A mob of angry settles pushed me down, holding every piece of my revealed flesh tightly like the rope I'll end up dangling from.
"Nasty little witch!" A man shouted, the words were like fire on his tongue.
I struggled and attempted to break free.
No use.
They pull my dark red hair into their palms, the knuckles they bare are raw from all the witches they caught.
"You can't get away," The man held onto the back of my neck,
His whole heart filled with anger and hate.
I awoke with a flurry of relentless emotions.
Should I explain?
Hi, my name is Cealia Ambergris.
A descent of those witches, my family, that were strung along with scratchy ropes.
My heart beat like I just ran a mile or more with no break. Even though I have no risk of dying in such a manner in the 20th century, I still fear it. But I'm not alone.
My mother Adriana peeked over the brim of my oak door. Her eyes were a dainty grey and she had glorious blonde hair. No one I have ever known is as beautiful as my mother.
"Are you alright?" My mother asked.
If her tone is formal, I don't blame her. She's been alive since the 1890's.
Because us witches have the ability to be young for not forever, but stay alive and young for over 3 centuries.
So yeah, you may already infer that love is near impossible unless its another witch or you only desire to bare children.
"I am fine," I rub my brown eyes.
My mother pondered different thoughts at the end of my bed.
"What is it?" I asked, pulling my legs out from the velvety covers.
"I'm worried Cealia," She whispered.
"About what?" I lean in closer next to my mother. She is worried about something. My mother rarely worries.
Since cursed by my late father, to have very little access to her emotions.
It has to be an intense feeling of one emotion to even feel anything.
She hugged me close, "I am worried to leave you alone."
"What are you talking about?" I knew what she was talking about. After a witches 18th birthday, their parents have to leave. Then we are forced to battle life alone.
"I love you," My mother cooed and quietly kissed my fore head. Which forced me to sleep.
. . . . .
When I awoke, my room was cold and empty. My entire house for that matter. Small tears fell from my eyes. She was gone, she had to leave, but why?
Why must witches do this?
Before I knew it my body was standing in the living room. There was 2,000 dollars on the table.
All I did was grab the money and bolt upstairs. I needed to leave. I switched into a pair of dark blue jeans, a floral short sleeve tee with a circular slit, leaving a space to expose part of my breasts.
Then I ambled into my mothers bedroom where her long necklace with a small teardrop shaped gem hung from the bottom. My hands cupped themselves around it.
But I didn't have time for this.
I clipped it onto my neck and grabbed a black knapsack full of spell books and alter supplies.
Then I ran out of there.
Because I can't stay.
Not because I can't live there,
But the memories of my parents are to much to bare.
