Gasping for air, Eliza coughed and frantically swept her hands across her face, as if expecting to find signs of her demise. Fingers clenching the crisp grass beneath her, she sought an anchor in the physical world.
Her heart pounded in her chest, her parched throat begged for relief, and a pounding headache reverberated through her skull. These unsettling dreams had plagued her ever since her father had abandoned her and her mother.
Gradually, her eyelids grew heavy, and Eliza succumbed to sleep's embrace.
In the swaying field, the delicate blades of grass danced, whispering in harmony with the gentle breeze. The melodious rustling of leaves caressed her ears, serenading her as the morning unfolded.
Eliza often sought solace in this field, lying down and surrendering herself to the embrace of the earth. From this vantage point, she gazed at the sky as it transformed from the deep blue of night to a radiant blend of orange and red.
Monstrous clouds crept across the heavens at a leisurely pace, inviting her to witness their majestic passage. Her nails dug into the soft, moist earth as she extended an index finger toward the sky, playfully cutting through the invisible air. Adjusting her glasses, she turned her gaze toward the forest that lay before her.
The beckoning branches seemed to whisper an invitation.
Whenever her eyes closed, whether from exhaustion or deep contemplation, the same recurring nightmare consumed Eliza's consciousness. In this dark vision, a creature dragged a woman through an ominous alley, enveloping her senses with a macabre spectacle.
The vividness of the nightmare granted her the ability to see, touch, hear, and smell every chilling detail, as if it were her present reality. It was an incomplete puzzle, a missing piece that tormented her mind.
Being a witch brought with it a perpetual sense of déjà vu, with nightmares as a scorching side dish. Rising to her feet, Eliza cast one last glance at the foreboding forest. Then, she set off along the path that led back home. The field was her sanctuary, where she confronted the weighty thoughts that plagued her young adult life.
It suddenly dawned on her that she had her first class at college today. With a burst of energy, she sprinted along the dirt trail, passing Miss Canary's house in a blur. Disregarding any notion of road safety, she darted across a street, narrowly avoiding a car that sped by. Leaping forward, she landed in front of her house, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Silently opening the door, she tiptoed upstairs, intent on gathering herself before facing the world. Upon entering her room and settling onto the bed, a sudden shrill screech pierced the air.
Jared, her cat, emerged from beneath the tangled sheets, effortlessly leaping onto the windowsill. He meticulously groomed his claws, fixing his gaze upon Eliza, then glanced at the alarm clock, which continued its hysterical beeping.
"That," he paused dramatically, "was quite rude." His ear twitched with irritation. "I expect a sincere apology, Eliza."
Rolling her eyes, Eliza adjusted her disheveled hair and hurried to her drawer. Clothing flew haphazardly in all directions, transforming her room into a chaotic sea of bras and shirts. With each furious rummage, socks rained down upon Jared's furry head.
The alarm clock momentarily ceased its cacophony, only to resume its whining a few moments later. Something was clearly wrong with that clock; surely it would cease its beeping soon.
Jared bumped his head against the windowpane, completely buried beneath a mountain of socks, causing him to topple from the shelf.
"Oh, the filth! You've murdered me," he wailed. "Do you ever tidy up your clothes, woman?" Sniffling, he added, "It's positively revolting." Jerking his head to the side, he dislodged a sock, then collided with the bed, cursing under his breath.
Lost in her search for something presentable to wear, Eliza paid little attention to Jared's misfortune. Her throbbing headache persisted from the nightmare in the field, the sensation of prickling weeds on her skin and the rapid pounding of her heart haunting her even now. Yet, upon the nightmare's conclusion, she remained emotionally numb, detached from the world around her.
Accepting the futility of her dreams, Eliza found herself unable to rescue the girl. The scent emanating from the monster overwhelmed her, rendering her powerless to save anyone. No matter how hard she resisted, the fragrance of fresh wood and grass commandeered her thoughts, leaving her feeling helpless and weak. The creature's pitch-black eyes lingered in her mind, an indelible memory akin to an unshakable tune.
Gradually, she feared she was descending into madness.
Initially, the thought of confessing her fears to her mother and seeking help from a mental institution crossed her mind. Perhaps a dose of reality would jolt her back to her senses, along with a lecture on proper witch etiquette, broomsticks, and her unruly hair. But deep down, Eliza knew she would never follow through with such a plan.
Glancing at her cell phone for the time, she realized she was already late for her first day of college. She rarely arrived late—well, sometimes on certain occasions. The alarm clock, true to its nature, resumed its relentless beeping, penetrating her frustration.
"Where is it?" she grumbled, searching for something suitable to wear.
"For heaven's sake, Liza, please silence that wretched clock of yours."
"Shut up, Jared," she muttered under her breath.
"Not even a 'Jared, you're so wonderful?'" he teased, a hint of mischief in his voice.
She shot him a disapproving look, her eyes narrowing. He responded with a hiss, a clear sign of annoyance.
Her feline companion, Jared, was a familiar—a creature that aided witches with their magical endeavors. Unfortunately, her familiar was more inclined towards laziness than assisting her. He spent his days complaining, whining, and sleeping.
She stumbled towards the bathroom, her mind preoccupied, forgetting to grab the clothes she had planned to wear. In a hasty decision, she settled for a yellow flowy cardigan, a plain brown cami, and some white shorts. Letting out a deep sigh, she collected the clothes and hurried back into the bathroom. She changed quickly, but before she could open the door, a loud crash echoed from inside.
"Jared," she growled through clenched teeth.
With a swift swing, she flung the door open, her eyes fixed on him. He finished kicking the beeping clock onto the floor, then gracefully leaped back onto the windowsill. Her snobbish cat began to rub his luscious white back against the glass.
"What? I did nothing wrong," he protested innocently, blinking his eyes.
"Really?" she said, her frustration evident in her voice, as she grabbed her purse.
"I mean, I did tell you to turn it off..." he said, nonchalantly grooming himself and flicking his slim tail over the edge.
"That's the third clock you've managed to destroy, Jare," she snapped, heading towards her bedroom door.
"Sure, that's what you always say, but you didn't see me break it. Where's the evidence, hmmm?" he yawned. "Gonna send me off to an animal shelter?"
"That wouldn't be such a bad idea," she muttered, glancing at the broken clock before folding her arms across her chest.
"It's okay, blame the cat," he muttered, staring down at her bare feet.
She realized she had forgotten to put on her shoes. How could she be so forgetful? After tripping over a sea of bras while attempting to reach the closet, she searched for a suitable pair of shoes. Grabbing a pair of cute white flats she had never worn, she quickly slipped them onto her feet.
"Those are purrfect, and your cardigan goes well with your light green eyes," he commented.
"Thanks," she murmured, looking at her reflection in the life-size mirror against the wall. She adjusted her outfit and pushed up her nonexistent cleavage, even though she doubted anyone would ever notice.
Hey, at least she had made an effort, right?
She blinked at her reflection and a crooked grin formed on her face. Exhaling, she attempted to smile, scratching the bridge of her nose where her glasses usually irritated her skin.
Her college she had planned to go to was the same college her mother her mother had earned her degree, wasn't far from Centreville, VA. her current residence.
She knew that if she didn't leave now, she might end up missing her first class. College was likely less strict than high school, though. Finally, on this bitter day, she would be leaving the nest. Excitement filled her, but there was a part of her that resisted.
She knew she had to leave for school, but she didn't really want to. She'd rather lounge on the couch for the rest of her life, binge-watching Netflix until she reached the ripe age of eighty. Jared gracefully jumped onto her bed. She began to walk out of her room but bumped into the door.
"Glasses," he said sarcastically. "Must I save you from everything?"
She turned around and pursed her lips at him. Then, she walked over to her shelf, where she always kept her glasses. She carefully put them on and immediately felt the familiar comfort as her vision sharpened. On Jared's collar, she could now clearly see the letter 'J' dangling as he leaped to the foot of her bed.
"You're a lifesaver," she thanked him and slung her purse over her shoulder.
"Yeah, you have no idea," he replied with a smug tone.
She grinned at him as she walked out of her room and hurried down the stairs, nearly tripping. A note awaited her in the kitchen, placed in the center of the table:
Went to work early. There's a bagel on the table. If it's not there, Jared ate it.
PS: Don't forget your broomstick.
Stay safe.
-Your fabulous mother
Of course, the arrow on the note pointed to nothing.
"Jared!" she called out.
"You weren't gonna eat it anyway!" his voice echoed from her room. It was evident that he knew about the missing bagel. She shook her head, annoyed at him.
Eliza was already familiar with the broomstick and its intended use as a weapon. It was the very tool she had witnessed at the age of fourteen, designed to eliminate the mystical creature. However, to her dismay, the broomstick refused to activate for her, emitting only a gentle glow and a warm sensation upon touch. Eliza knew that she would eventually figure out how to wield its power, but for now, her focus was on college.
In her determined pursuit of her broomstick, Eliza meticulously combed through the kitchen, her eyes darting around the room before she proceeded to search the rest of the house. Its conspicuous absence intensified her sense of urgency.
The broomstick possessed a distinct appearance, resembling a twirling baton adorned with a central button and silver lines encircling its cylindrical structure. By pressing the red button, Eliza could adjust its size, occasionally accompanied by an enigmatic glow. Remarkably, the broomstick could effortlessly fit inside her pocket due to its slim and compact design.
Despite its association with witches, Eliza remained uncertain about the broomstick's true purpose. It differed greatly from the fairy tale notion of a flying broom.
Jared adamantly insisted that witches were nothing like their fictional portrayals, but Eliza lacked the knowledge to confirm or refute his claim.
According to her mother, Eliza was a witch, although she believed witches were unable to cast spells. In her journey of self-discovery, Eliza had uncovered intriguing details about being a witch. For instance, she had learned that Jared served as her familiar, and both her mother and herself possessed broomsticks.
Her mother had stressed the utmost importance of keeping the broomstick close at all times, despite Eliza's growing conviction that it held no practical value and her mother might be losing touch with reality.
"It's a weapon," her mother had declared, but Eliza struggled to comprehend its functionality, unable to discern any practical purpose. "It will unveil its power when the time is right," Jared had added, yet a considerable amount of time had passed without the broomstick transforming into a fearsome, formidable weapon like a chainsaw-gun or a deadly slasher.
Eliza found herself increasingly skeptical of their claims.
Navigating through the living room, Eliza's encounter with the bookcase yielded an unexpected phenomenon—a waft of warm air tickling the tip of her nose.
Intrigued, she surveyed her surroundings, pinpointing the source of the air behind the imposing bookcase. Casting a scrutinizing gaze at the structure, Eliza couldn't shake the eerie sensation that it harbored a supernatural presence.
The books on the shelves often exhibited peculiar behavior in her presence. They would shift and make noises, but whenever Eliza attempted to catch them in the act, they eluded her, leaving her with a lingering belief that the bookcase was indeed possessed. It exuded an air of neglect, coated in a thin layer of dust, and it was clear that her mother needed to devote some attention to organizing the books.
Eliza blew on the wooden surface, attempting to dust it off, and gently ran her fingers over the bindings of the books. Suddenly, a loud thud resonated through the room.
To her astonishment, Eliza's broomstick lay on the floor beneath her feet. Her gaze instinctively flickered to the bookcase, witnessing ephemeral silver swirls radiating from one of the book's covers.
Blinking rapidly, the colors vanished, leaving behind a green book and a purple one that intermittently caught her peripheral vision with their elusive glow. However, whenever she attempted to focus directly on them, they remained resolutely ordinary.
She reached down, retrieved her broomstick, and held it in her hand. Looking down at the familiar object, Eliza uttered softly, "I'm sorry, broomstick." Her finger hovered over the button nestled in the center. As she pressed it, the silver lines on the broomstick illuminated, accompanied by the faint scrape of metal as it shrank to a size that snugly fit into her pocket.
"I accept your apology! Eliza, it means so much...seriously," Jared's voice bellowed from upstairs.
"Shut up, Jared."
"Your apology is so sincere. I really do appreciate it!" he retorted, bounding downstairs and halting at the doorway, waiting for her.
Rolling her eyes at Jared's sarcasm, Eliza brushed her auburn tangles away with her fingers and strode out the door. Her broomstick nestled comfortably in her pocket as she emerged from their townhouse, her gaze drawn to the street sign. They resided next to a bustling thoroughfare, flanked by a row of brick townhouses on the opposite side of the road.
Eliza had made the decision to move in with her best friend, Dawn, as they both deemed the dormitories on campus ill-suited to their needs. Renting a condo seemed like the optimal solution for now. Her mother had mentioned the possibility of visiting her new abode later that day.
Recently, her mother had been engrossed in a demanding endeavor, leading a rather chaotic life. Consequently, Eliza had chosen not to burden her with the responsibility of accompanying her to school. She felt confident in her ability to navigate her way to VCU, aided by the indispensable guidance of GPS, which had never failed her before.
Moreover, Eliza wished to spare herself from her mother's emotional outpourings. Such moments could be exasperating, as her mother's reactions often exceeded the bounds of reason.
She understood that her departure marked a significant milestone for her mother, who grappled with the realization that her little witch was growing up and venturing beyond the cocoon of safety she had painstakingly woven. Raising her head, Eliza exhaled audibly, turning her attention toward the front door.
Across the street resided Miss Canary, a peculiar character whose idiosyncrasies mirrored those of the haunted bookcase. Although Eliza possessed limited acquaintance with her, the encounter from her early childhood remained etched in her memory.
***
"Eliza! Dear, come meet Miss Canary," her mother had beckoned.
Engrossed in playing with the books on the shelf, Eliza accidentally burned her fingers on one of them. Tears welled up in her eyes as her mother swiftly picked her up and carried her toward the front door. Outside, a lady stood on the porch, clutching a flower with thorns still intact, seemingly unaffected by their prickly presence.
"What have I told you about touching those books, honey?" her mother admonished.
The aroma of fallen petals and fresh grass wafted into Eliza's nostrils as her mother gently set her down on the ground. The pale lady leaned forward to introduce herself.
"Hi there. My name is Terese," she greeted, her smooth pink lips parting to reveal a set of perfect white teeth. "And what's your name?"
Eliza cast a wary glance at her mother, clinging to her thigh. Her mother patted her head and encouraged her, saying, "Be polite, dear."
"Eliza," she muttered, meeting Terese's inquisitive gaze.
"And your last name?" Terese inquired, prompting a furrowed brow from Eliza. Glancing past Terese, she noticed a young boy peering at her from behind the partially open door, his sharp green eyes fixated upon her. Redirecting her attention to Terese, Eliza replied, "Rose."
Eliza was greeted with a warm smile from the lady, who seemed to have anticipated her arrival. "Ah, I thought so," she said, her eyes twinkling. "This is why I brought this just for you." With a delicate motion, she presented Eliza with a rose, her smile growing wider. "It's a special rose because the thorns aren't going to pinch you."
Eliza glanced at the rose, perplexed. "But... thorns always hurt," she voiced her doubt.
Undeterred, the lady explained, "This is a rare flower from the forest behind my house." Eliza noticed a little boy playing nearby, holding a stem of a flower. Suddenly, a single red petal detached itself and floated gracefully to the ground. The boy swiftly hid the flower behind his back, casting a mischievous grin at Eliza. The lady's gaze shifted between the two, a knowing look in her eyes.
"Thank you," Eliza finally managed to utter, her confusion mingling with gratitude.
As Eliza hurried back inside the house, clutching the rose in her hand, her mother exchanged pleasantries with Miss Canary before closing the door. Outside, murmuring voices grew louder and more agitated. Then, a resounding slam against the door reverberated through the house, causing Eliza's heart to pound in her chest.
She placed the rose carefully on the bookshelf, only to witness it inexplicably burst into flames, transforming into a pile of red ashes. Anger and sadness welled up within her, and she sank down, covering her face as tears streamed down her cheeks.
In that moment of despair, Jared, the family cat, sensed her distress and leaped onto her lap. Unaccustomed to having a cat, Eliza found solace in Jared's icy blue eyes and comforting purrs, which gradually eased her pain.
Gradually, the intensity of her emotions faded, and Eliza began to forget about the rose and the cacophony outside.
***
Years had passed, yet the memory of Miss Canary's gift lingered in Eliza's mind. Each time she ventured outside, she couldn't help but notice the familiar figure of Miss Canary, seemingly unchanged by time. The blonde bun atop her head accentuated her elegant presence, while her gaze followed Eliza, always accompanied by a polite wave.
But it was the forest behind Miss Canary's house that truly captivated Eliza's imagination. Unlike any other woodland in the area, this particular one exuded a comforting ambiance, with leaves that whispered secrets and a scenery that delighted her senses. Eliza often fantasized about the day she would succumb to the forest's allure, discovering another elusive and extraordinary rose.
On a pleasant day, the wind gently toyed with the black sundress Miss Canary wore, adorned with yellow canary flowers. The sunlight bathed her pale skin, illuminating the tiny freckles that danced across her arms. Her pointed ears added a subtle touch of otherworldliness, while her graceful movements mirrored the elegance of her attire.
Eliza rummaged through her purse, searching for her car keys. Once located, she aimed them towards her vehicle, clicking the button until the familiar beep signaled that the car was unlocked.
This car, a gift from her mother on her sixteenth birthday, carried memories and the reminder of the passage of time. With a sigh, she acknowledged her progression from a teenager to a young adult. In the backseat, Jared nestled amidst the clutter, his rhythmic breathing indicating his sound slumber.
Slipping into the driver's seat, Eliza inserted the keys into the ignition and started the car. The familiar voice of Taylor Swift filled the air, singing "I Knew You Were Trouble." As if possessed by the music, Eliza's hand emerged through the sunroof, mimicking guitar chords. Her voice soared as she passionately sang along, embracing the moment as if the song were her own creation.
Trapped in traffic, Eliza absentmindedly twirled the ends of her hair, the open window allowing the breeze to play with her locks. The music blared, creating a private concert within her car. A black sports motorcycle pulled up beside her, capturing her attention.
Oblivious to the curious eyes of the motorcyclist, she continued her uninhibited dance routine, gesturing in all directions. Unwittingly, her pointed finger pointed directly at the motorcyclist.
Startled, Eliza's cheeks flushed crimson as she realized that the stranger had witnessed her embarrassing display. Feeling a mix of awkwardness and self-consciousness, she locked eyes with him. To her surprise, he winked, revved his engine, and smoothly maneuvered through the stagnant traffic, leaving her momentarily breathless.
As she exhaled, a car horn behind her snapped her back to reality, and she refocused her attention on the road ahead, determined to drive with greater awareness.
Eliza Rose adjusted her glasses as she maneuvered her car through the crowded VCU parking lot, scanning for an available spot. Amidst the commotion, her attention was immediately drawn to a couple engaged in a passionate embrace inside a car.
The girl possessed striking platinum blonde hair, which the guy had wound around his hand. Sporting an edgy black hairstyle, he planted kisses on her above her breasts, eliciting a pleasurable response as her head gradually sank against the seat. Eliza couldn't help but find the whole scene rather unconventional, even by today's societal standards.
With a disgusted expression, Eliza averted her gaze, fixating on the campus building ahead. Exiting her car, she caught a smirk from the girl, who playfully clutched the guy's neck, before the fleeting yellow tint in her eyes dissipated.
Interrupted by Eliza's presence, the couple momentarily ceased their activities, their eyes trained on her. Determinedly, she made her way towards the campus entrance.
Public displays of affection were acceptable to Eliza, within certain limits—holding hands and a casual peck on the lips were endearing gestures.
However, the explicit exhibition she had just witnessed was nothing short of public indecency. The thought of it made her shudder with discomfort.
Eliza had an appointment with her counselor, knowing she had already missed her first class of the day and the next one wasn't due for another hour.
As she locked her car, Jared, her faithful companion, leaped out and scurried towards a nearby tree, deftly climbing it to find repose on a sturdy branch. He absentmindedly scratched his head and soon drifted off to sleep.
On her path, Eliza encountered a group of perspiring young men engrossed in a basketball game. Their attention momentarily shifted to her as she walked by.
A snicker escaped one of the guys, followed by a suggestive remark, "Could really use a math tutor around here."
"How about we all get some private lessons, honey?" another chimed in.
An attempt to catch Eliza's attention was made as someone lobbed the basketball at the fence. Unfazed, Eliza was well-versed in handling such encounters and chose to professionally ignore their taunts. The guys huddled together, whispering amongst themselves, with a few stealing glances her way while others simply chuckled.
Eliza didn't consider herself a social butterfly, but it seemed that quite a few guys felt comfortable engaging in conversation with her. However, she couldn't help but notice that most of them were rather ordinary in appearance.
They were all climbing the same metaphorical ladder, striving to elevate their status, and she knew that sooner or later, she would encounter them on her own ascent. They were desperate to climb the food chain as well. Occasionally, a good-looking guy might flirt with her, but she could usually discern whether it was genuine or just a jest.
Determined not to attract any further negative attention, Eliza quickened her pace and focused her gaze straight ahead. Unfortunately, her shoes skidded on the concrete path, nearly causing her to stumble face-first.
Swiftly recovering her balance, she took a deep breath and continued her stride, clenching the strap of her purse. An attempt to casually flip her hair ended in failure as her hand became entangled in the thick strands.
Such was the typical life of Eliza Rose.