Chapter 1

202 41 246

My eyes fluttered open, as light entered my eyes. I had woken up from a slumber that felt like an eternity. My chapped lips opened as I took deep breath, wincing as a thousand sharp needles pierced my dry throat.

It wasn't the most pleasant of feelings, but I'd felt worse.

I sighed, gathered my thoughts. I used my hands to slowly sit up, my eyes scanning the unfamiliar empty room, with bright white walls and a large open window. The breeze caressed my waist long black hair.

I failed to die yet again.

"Ah, you're awake." A deep calming voice echoed in the room. My eyes traveled to a man. A man who seemed to be in his forties. With dark auburn hair and emerald eyes, the man walked towards me, a glass of water in hand.

"How long has it been," I said, after finishing the glass. My voice almost unfamiliar as it delicately bounced off the walls.

"100 years." The man stated as I hummed, deep in thought.

"No wonder your attire looks so odd." I said, staring the peculiar dress shirt he wore underneath his coat. It had neither collar nor a necktie.

"That's-" he started as I lifted my hand, waiting for him to help me out the bed. "It's called a t-shirt. Popularized back in the 1950s, thirty years after your recent slumber." The man said as he supported me while I slid off the bed.

"I believe it's proper etiquette to bow and name yourself first before starting a conversation or have the rules of etiquette changed yet again?" I said, my hand in his as I steadied myself. My legs and bare feet felt odd on the cold wooden floor, as if they were not mine to begin with.

It has been a hundred years since I have walked.

"I'm Warren. Warren Arshawl." He stated and I turned to look at him, pausing to stare at his face.

This Warren Arshawl looked familiar.

I studied each corner of his face, trying to remember exactly why he was so familiar. It was a face aged with time, wrinkles forming at the edges of his eyes. His auburn hair had whites, yet his green eyes still had life.

I have seen those unique eyes before.

"Ah, you look exactly like William." I said, remembering the cutest little boy I had found before my first slumber. I had saved the 10 year old child from being taken by those brutish slave traders. Seeing that he had uncommon green eyes, it was not a surprise for him to be wanted by such fiends.

He would have been worth a lot because of his cute childlike features and clear emerald eyes.

Oddly enough, after I rescued him, he stuck to me like a child glued to his mother, even though I was nothing like one. A small smile graced my lips as I remembered the day he vowed to look after me during my slumber.

A pity I missed his funeral.

"William Arshawl. The first caretaker?" Warren asked, a hint of surprise in his eyes. I nodded as I noticed the mirror in the corner.

I stared at the girl in the mirror, her bright purple eyes were a large contrast to her dark long hair. Her skin so pale, one could almost see her veins.

Exactly the same. Not a single thing had changed. One would think that a hundred year nap would age a witch. A human - if I still am one.

Oh my, it seems that I had been conversing in my nightgown.

My brows furrowed in disapproval, as I stared at the white lace gown that girl in the mirror wore. It was delicate yet unfamiliar. I traced the sleeve of the dress, surprised to see its intricate designs.

Rest In Peace: 300 Year Old WitchWhere stories live. Discover now