More so than any of my other children, Peter and I enjoy each other. We laugh and cook and clean and I even teach him some of my potions, though to truly work they need a bit of my magic. He helps me through grieving when Lionel, Abigail, and Theodosia leave. He becomes close with Abram, who is only a few months older than him, and helps me with the two girls I save a few months apart a year after he came home with me. Peter and I explore The Wood and meet all the creatures that loan me their gifts and strengths. He listens to my teachings and even comes with me once when I go to save a child. That one ended up refusing me, though. That doesn’t happen often, but enough to make me question everything I do. Continue reading →
I can’t take it anymore. I need it to end. Please.
I sit up in bed, the cry from two towns over echoing in my dreams. It’s a young boy, about nine years old, sitting on the floor of his tiny bedroom. He’s crying and bleeding, listening to screaming in the next room. Usually, I would wait a week and assess the situation and get my current children prepared before leaving, but today is different. If I don’t save this child, he will take matters into his own hands. I can feel it. Continue reading →
My house has already tripled in size since Nissa saved me that day ten years ago. She returned to her own woods the following day, after teaching me how to build my new home, but I saw her a few more times before she passed. Her home now houses hundreds of Woodland creatures and floral life. The magic that still resides there keeps them safe, happy, and healthy. It also acts as a home for roaming witches. For those who have not found their place, their Wood or their clearing, Nissa’s gives them safety for as long as they need it. Continue reading →
I tried all I could to get rid of it when I was a child. But even human devices did not work. They use their own forms of potions, such as pastes and oils, to cure their injuries. However, all they create must be applied immediately, which I was not able to do.
So I tried all the potions and spells I knew. I even sent a message to a fellow witch a few towns over. Her reply was kind and caused me to hide in my bathtub, shaking with sobs, but did not help with getting rid of the scar.
My throat burns and my cheeks are wet. With blood? With sweat? With tears? I close my eyes and push my hands against my face, shaking my head quickly so the strands of dirty hair fly wildly. I want to scream again but I can’t take a breath and without air, there’s not much you can do. I want to run but without space, there’s not very many places you can go.
I want it all to end but with so much love, you can’t justify ending anything at all.
With nowhere else to go, I drove to the base of a mountain and started climbing. My shoes weren’t made for the steep rocks and I slipped more times than I’d like to admit. There were no other people around; after all it’s the middle of a Tuesday on a hot summer’s day. No one in their right mind would be hiking right now.
I give it up to poetic justice when I reach up to grab hold of the rock and feel a sting in the tip of my fingers. I yank my hand back to see blood trickling down the palm and onto the hot stone below. Continue reading →