Jenny Greenteeth

There, on the calm of the pond, a ripple, movement just beneath the quiet surface of green. In the distance a large splash, the rustle of reeds and the scrapping of sharp hard rock on the boulder shoreline. Two young boys wading in the shallows soon become one, a moment later, none.

A most loathsome hag is Jenny Greenteeth. Her skin, shriveled and warted and verrucose, the same green color as the mossy vegetation that carpets the water’s surface. Teeth jagged and sharp, broken decaying still capable of tearing flesh from bone. Her fingers narrow and long with a grip as strong as a sailors knot, her fingernails black, broken and hard and sharp as shards of obsidian. Her hair is long and dark yet still green in color, her victims are often disoriented as it envelops them and some have claimed it’s more like thick pond grass than the hair of a human. Living on meals of frogs and salamanders, raw fish and snails she craves the soft meats, bones and marrow of the young, her taste for human life is so great that she’s been known to lure young children and the elderly close to the waters edge so she can reach out and drag them in.