God has heaven.
The Devil has hell.
And in the middle, walking the earth is Witches.
Magical beings, they strive to protect their coven and guard over their sisters, they hide their powers so they may be able to blend quietly within society; but th...
Weeks rolled into months, with each day that rolled by my strength became stronger, my ties to my old life slowly letting go of its tight grasp that had once had a chokehold on my soul. Lola Love flourished, she grew and became what she was always destined to be.
I was now living in a crappy bedsit that had mould on every wall, a tap that continually dripped and neighbours that fought like cat and dog all night long, whilst working night shifts in a bar that had seen better days. But I was the happiest, most complete person I'd ever been because I was finally able to be me.
The odd flicker of regret would seep in for leaving my father behind, but then my mother's repulsed face would appear and stop any moment of doubt, instantly pushing it to the back of my mind where it stayed locked away with any memories that try to haunt me.
Just as my father had wished, I had found my tribe, a tight community within the bar that I worked with, who welcomed me with open arms and no questions asked, just unconditional love.
Once the bar shut, all the doors were locked and alarms set, I'd chuck the remaining bins into the dumpster that was behind the bar on the way out. The cold night air tonight hit me like an icy wall on my way out, instantly waking me up after a long shift. Not a bad thing, as I need to be awake for the commute home.
The overflowing bins stunk rotten as I try to shove one more black sack in, I know if I leave it by the side it'll be either ripped up by the foxes or kicked up the street by drunk twats - both outcomes result in me cleaning up crap tomorrow morning.
I grimace at the dumpster once the deed is done and dig into my handbag for my travel hand sanitiser to remove the million germs I've just touched curtesy of the skanky dumpster.
My attention is drawn away from the disgusting bins, by sniggering from the shadows.
Sat on some crates, hidden away in the shadows, is a group of local wannabe teenager gangsters, well known as small time weed dealers who dabble in petty theft and generally irritating anyone who crosses their tags.In their minds they are all big time, the next Scarface just without the money or the brains.
I know better than to acknowledge them, so I do what I do best and ignore their ignorance and get my arse safely out of there.
"Oi, oi im talking to you".
I mentally pep talk myself- just ignore, don't engage.
"Oi I'm talking to you, I want to ask you a question".
Keep ignoring, start walking.
"Hey, my friends want to know are you a boy or a girl?", Hyena laughter erupte from these mindless goons.
"It's rude to ignore someone, I'm fucking talking to you".
Michael is prepared to ignore and walk away, not to succumb to their level, but Lola Love has had a gutful of bullies to last a lifetime- her rage is biting and thrashing away inside of me. The words tumble out of my mouth before my brain can stop them.
"What am I? I'm a fucking human, that's all you need to know and that's probably too much for a backwards bunch of twats like you lot to comprehend".
Shit, what have I done? I scold myself, as like a pack of wild animals they surround me, circling around waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I know as soon as one goes for me, the rest will follow suit and plough in for their pound of flesh and glory. Mentally I kick myself for deciding to stick up for myself when it's four against one.
The voice-piece of the group slides in front of me, so close his rank breath wafts up and violates my nose while his minions eagerly watch on.
"Human? Don't make me laugh, you're a fucking freak, but the question is, are you a boy freak or a girl freak?"
He turns to his mindless adoring minions, acting out confusion, whilst they snigger and whistle. I know where this is going. Why is it the most homophonic of individuals are always the most curious?
"You're going to have to show us," his vile smirk is dripping with poison .
He grabs my arm to stop me running away, a strange electric current travels up my arm over my skin with his touch, like the sensation of pins and needles, but it burns. I wince in pain, which shocks even him as he has barely touched me.
Suddenly, a loudness erupts from him, yet he's not said a word, it hits me like a bag of bricks around the head. "Show me, need to see, want to touch".
My piercing scream rips out as the loudness echos and pierces at my brain like a thousand knifes, I fall to the ground clutching at my ears trying to muffle the noise, praying for it to stop, but the words get louder and more aggressive.
My attackers, including their leader, have all stepped back unprepared for this outcome- any pleasure they took from my fear has now been replaced with unexplainable confusion.
I squirm on the floor in agony, hands latched to my ears desperately trying to stop his loud words echoing loudly through out my brain, the words getting higher and higher each time they are repeated.
Then it stops......
In the silence all I can hear is a tapping, like a strong heartbeat drowning out the madness. I lift my head to see the wannabe gangsters wide-eyed and open-mouthed staring down the alley, and I turn to see what has them transfixed.
What was once a dead end of alley, where dumpsters and rubbish laid unceremoniously piled up, was now the opening to something else, almost like the mouth to a deep woods. As if time had been sped up, I watched as vines grew and entwined their way up; hard concrete was now cracking and sprouting dark, lush green grass, and strong trees forming like mighty guardians protecting the woods. The tapping is becoming louder and louder, it's owner slips out from behind the tree to reveal herself - a petite lady, with white soft curls emerges. She must be in her late 60s with a fluffy lavender cardigan that had little roses embroidered all over. In her hand she's holding a solid wooden stick that she's tapping with every slow step she takes.
She steps out from the woods walking directly towards us, we are all frozen - myself and my attackers unsure what we are witnessing.
She stops in front of us and the tapping of the stick seizes. She starts to chuckle as if our confused expressions are greatly amusing her.
"Well now, if I were you lot, I'd fuck off if you know what's good for you", she purrs, as she directs her comments to my attackers.
Then she lifts her stick and taps it twice on the ground, and with that a howl cracks through the night air and whizzes around us. From the opening of the mouth of the newly formed woods, four large black wolves bound out, eyes shining in the moonlight, their heads down and low, ready to stalk their prey with fur standing on end as they snarl and growl.
Bravery evaporated as they scramble and fight to get away first , as they disappear into the night in scattered directions. Within seconds, all trace of the hooligans were gone as if they'd never been.
The old lady slowly bends down to my level, her hand outstretched to help me up. "I'm Miss Toulouse. I'm so glad I've finally found you".
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