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The Wickeder Witch

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My sister and I never got along.

She was the pretty one. The smart one. The nice one.

(Well, as nice as a Wicked Witch could be.)

Still, she was my flesh and blood.

All I had.

And now she is dead. Crushed by a little girl from another world.

I shall exact my revenge, as is expected, even though I know I sign my own death warrant.

Yes, even I was told the stories as a child.

You can’t escape fate. I can hear the little ones singing, “Ding Dong the witch is dead.”

I guess that’s my cue.