Spellbound

01 | appetence

I M P O R T A N T :

For the new version, be aware of these new changes:

• Heather Sterling is now a nineteen-year-old girl, and not twenty.

• If you haven't noticed, this story is now written in first person and not in third person. Reason is because I wasn't really comfortable in writing in third person. I know some of you may not like this new version, but that won't stop me from doing things my way, right?

• Additional scenes (mainly between Heather and her aunts)

» I am terribly sorry for not updating for what, months now? This story means a lot to me and I want this to be in its best shape.

» As always, I don't proofread. So if you spot any errors, kindly inform me. :)

» With that said, I hope I won't get anymore questions regarding the changes since I just explained myself. I hope you understand my decision in rewriting this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading!

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01:

a p p e t e n c e

• an eager desire, an instinctive inclination; an attraction or a natural bond.

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Aunt Flora's scream was enough reason for anyone to panic. For starters, Aunt Flora was a walking disaster; It was as if everything that she touches, dies. So this time, I was not surprised that she almost caught the house on fire. Again.

I immediately stood up, rushing towards the kitchen and leaving all the newspapers that I just used, scattered on the living room floor. "What the hell happened?"

Right before me, stood a frightened Aunt Flora with a spatula gripped tightly in her hand. "It wasn't me this time!" She raised both of her hands in active surrender.

A few seconds later, Aunt Nora appeared; then the moment her eyes saw Aunt Flora's doings, she screamed, "Oh Jesus," she rushed to take the spatula away from Aunt Nora. "How many times do we have to tell you not to go near the kitchen?"

Aunt Flora sighed, looking guiltier than ever. "I was just trying to be useful," she said. "Besides, what harm could a scrambled egg get you?"

"YOU ALMOST SET THE HOUSE ON FIRE JUST BECAUSE OF A SCRAMBLED EGG?" Obviously, Aunt Nora was getting depressed with the situation.

"Well, is there anyone in this house besides Maryweather who knows how to cook?" She deadpanned.

"Where is Aunt Maryweather?"

"Groceries." Aunt Nora gritted her teeth, shooting daggers at Aunt Flora. "Heather, darling, would you be a dear and make dinner?" she asked, her voice trying to sound calm. "I'll go clean up, while–" she stole a glance at Aunt Flora, "–Flora closes the shop."

"But," I started to say, my eyes landing on the empty cupboards. "We don't have anything to cook. Aunt Flora used the last egg."