She was famous. A terrible witch. Wicked beyond all virtue, and darker than the purest of coal.
Stories of her were told in whisper and the very mention of her evil name gave people awful chills. She enjoyed sin for the sake of its malice and liked the looks of horror on people when they recognized her face.
She was the first death of autumn and the last ray of hope. The very ground she stepped on was forever cursed.
She was the stuff that nightmares were made of.
She was the sign that winter was coming.
She was so bad, there were places where the word Carabosse itself was used as a verb. Like Google.
I had a lot of fun with this one. I had to do a deep soul search and find the part of me that was the most... how to say... maleficent.
I went for the more traditional version and name, Carabosse, and as usual I had a lot of fun writing such a terrible villain.
A long time ago... in a faraway land, between the mountains of a magical kingdom,
there was the best party in the history of time!
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