Blood Curse

I don’t remember when it started exactly. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember. I’ve always been different; been able to do things. My parents always told me to keep it a secret. That others wouldn’t understand. So that’s what I did, or at least that’s what I tried to do. I would slip up here and there, lose control at certain times. Nothing too major, always something that could be explained away. It wasn’t until I was 13 that my parents finally gave me an explanation. That was when I found out; I was a witch.

At first, I didn’t believe them. There was no way that I, Wynter Morgan, was a witch. But the more they told me, the more it made sense. The Morgans have been witches for generations, dating back to the Salem witch trials. They had even dug up one of my ancestors’ journals from that time for me to read. I’ve always wondered why they kept it from me for so long, but to this day, they never give me a satisfying answer.

After that, my life consisted of going to school, working on my practice, and trying to find anything I could about my bloodline. Until today, that is; Today we’re moving. It’s been 4 years since my parents dropped that bomb of info on me, and here we are, packing up our lives to move to a small town 15 miles outside of Salem, Massachusetts. My grandfather recently passed away, and since my mom was an only child, everything he owned was left to her. Including the old family estate. I can’t say that I’ll miss Arizona. I’ve never been a fan of the desert heat. Nonetheless, moving all the way to the other side of the country wasn’t exactly what I would call ideal. Thankfully, both my parents’ jobs wouldn’t be affected by this move. My father was a firefighter and would just transfer stations, and my mother was an author, so she could write anywhere.

“Wynter, are you almost done with your room, dear?” My mother called up from the kitchen.

“Almost,” I called back.

I looked around at what was once my room. The walls were bare, and the floor was littered with boxes. All my little knick-knacks were either wrapped in bubble wrap or already packed. I had already packed the rest of my things, like my clothes and bedding, but I wanted to take my time packing all my breakables. It’s a long drive, and I didn’t want to risk breaking anything on the way. As I wrapped my last snow globe in bubble wrap and placed it in the box, I couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. This was the house I grew up in, and now I was leaving it behind, not knowing if or when I’d return to it.

I let out a small sigh and picked up my ancestors’ journal once more. Her name was Amelia, and she was only 19 when she was accused and tried as a witch. Her accuser was actually her boyfriend, Evan Mikhale. He didn’t have any tangible proof, just his word. But Salem and the surrounding villages were already in such an uproar that that was all he needed. The two young lovers were together for almost 2 years, so Amelia thought it would be safe to share her secret with him. She thought that their love was stronger than the hysteria that had taken hold of the town. When he left that night, however, Amelia could sense that she had in fact made a mistake.

She then decided to write down everything she could for the future generations of Morgans, before the townspeople came for her. She wrote as many spells, rituals, and life stories as she could before it was too late. She then gave the journal to her younger sister to keep safe. Amelia decided to stay behind and sacrifice herself to give her family a chance to escape. And that was the last thing that she wrote. I had done a bit of research on her and found out she was burned at the stake. I tried to track down more of her journals, but was unsuccessful. I could only hope that they were packed away somewhere at the estate. Snapping out of my thoughts, I put down the journal and taped the last box shut.

I stood up, stretching my legs and back before making my way downstairs where my mother was packing the kitchen and my father was packing the living room.

“Oh, Wynter, is your room all packed, sweetheart?” My dad asked, looking up from the box he was currently trying to shove more stuff than it could possibly hold into it.

“I think so. Did the moving company call back?” I asked, sitting on the couch.

“Yeah, they should be here in about two hours.”

I nodded and let comfortable silence fall over us, as I listened to the clanking sound of pots and pans from the kitchen and irritated mumbling from my father. Before I knew it, everything was packed up and making its way into the moving truck. And we were off to start our new life across the country in the town of Witchitan, Massachusetts.

Over 40 hours later, we pulled up to the house as the sun was rising, and I don’t think I’ve been so happy to get out of a car in my life. I took a deep breath and stretched as I tried to regain feeling in my legs from being stuck in the car for so long.

As my parents were directing the moving trucks to where they wanted them, I took the moment to look up at the house. It was big, bigger than our old house, and it was old. You could tell someone took care of it, though; there was no paint chipping or broken windows, and the front lawn was well kept. I half expected to see the stereotypical haunted house when we finally pulled up to it, but that wasn’t the case here.

“Wynter, come help grab boxes!” My father called out, breaking me from my train of thought.

“Coming!”

We spent the rest of the day unloading the moving trucks, and as the movers were leaving, we made sure to give them a good tip and thank them profusely. After that, we were left alone in our new home.

“Okay, Wynter, how about you head upstairs and start unpacking at least the essentials before we go out to dinner.” Mom said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I simply nodded in response as the fatigue started to set in, along with the nausea from not having a chance to eat yet today.

As I made my way up the stairs, I could feel a certain energy about the house; it felt warm and comforting. Which was strange since I have never stepped foot on the property in my life. Nonetheless, I relished in the familiarity of it because who knew how long it would last, and I definitely needed it. Being in a new and unknown environment was unsettling to me. I knew I needed to guard myself against any unwanted or negative energy. But since I don’t know what energy I need to protect myself from here, I essentially have to guard against everything and hope it works.

So I made my way down the hall to the last room on the second floor, where my stuff was. My mom grew up here, so she knows the house like the back of her hand, and she thought this room would be best suited to be mine. It’s bigger than my room back in Arizona, and it has a few windows, but one in particular caught my eye. It was big, faced the sunset, and had a huge window seat. I automatically knew I would spend a lot of my time there. The wallpaper was old, as it was the original wallpaper from when the estate was built. I can imagine how this room looked back in 1673, when Amelia was born here. I can imagine the floral wallpaper faded by time, being pure white with splashes of color littering the walls. A small smile adorned my face as I started to unpack.

I was able to get a good portion of my essentials unpacked, such as bedding, electronics, and my magical tools. The sooner I can set up my altar, the sooner I can cleanse the room and set up some wards. Although doing those rituals would have to wait till after dinner, since I definitely don’t have enough energy at this moment. Just as I was putting the finishing touches on my altar, I heard my mother call me downstairs so we could leave. I smiled as I practically ran downstairs, excited to finally be able to eat.

“Where are we going to go eat?” I asked my parents as I met them at the front door.

“Well, your mother was telling me about this little cafe in town her family used to go to, so we were thinking about seeing if it was still open.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan.”

I could tell that my mom was happy to be back in her hometown, with all the nostalgia that came with it. But at the same time, I could tell that she was nervous; something about being back was unsettling for her. Nonetheless, when we pulled up to an old-looking cafe with a big neon open sign still hanging in the window, I saw her smile grow so much it looked painful. I didn’t think it could get any bigger until we walked inside.

“Oh gosh! Nothing has changed, even after all these years!” She exclaimed.

Just as she was about to go on to tell us about every little detail she could remember, a blonde girl who couldn’t be much older than me walked up to us.

“Hi, welcome to Charlie’s Cafe. Are you here to dine in or carry out?” She said in an upbeat and cheery voice.

“Dine in for three, please.” My father responded with a polite smile.

“Okay then, please follow me.”

She sat us down in a booth in the back corner and handed us our menus before leaving us in the care of whoever our waiter was. And as we decided what we all wanted to order, I could feel eyes watching me. I glanced up and looked around, only to find that the hostess and a few of the wait staff were watching me from around a corner that I could only assume led into the kitchen. I assume they thought they were being subtle, and maybe to normal people they were, but I am not normal. I looked at them for a moment to let them all know I saw them before turning my attention back to my menu.

“Wynter, have you decided what you want, dear?” My mother asked

“I think I’ll go with a burger and fries with a root beer, if that’s alright?” I asked, placing my menu on the table.

“Of course, dear.”

Just as they were about to try and track down who our waiter was, a different young girl walked up to our table with a smile that was obviously very forced.

“Hi everyone, sorry for the wait. My name is Emily and I’ll be your waitress. What can I get for you?”

We quickly placed our orders and made some small conversation while we waited. Well, it was mostly mom and dad complaining how we should have had our drink orders taken when we sat down, but nonetheless, they seemed happy. It wasn’t long before we got both our food and drinks and enjoyed a nice family dinner together. Or at least it would have been if not for the entire waitstaff watching us like we had 2 heads.

“Thank you for eating at Charlie’s Cafe. We hope you come again.” One of the hostesses said as we were leaving.

We left, giving them a polite smile, and tried to ignore the looks we were receiving. Although I’m not sure my parents even noticed. They decided to head home straight away, and we could explore the town some other time. The entire way home, my mother wouldn’t stop gushing about how happy she was to show us her hometown. Although I could sense her happiness, I couldn’t shake this feeling of negativity. We made it back and went to our respective rooms for the night.

As I sat in the window seat watching the sky fill with the colors of the sunset, listening to the whispering of the house. The creaks the groans that filled my ears urged me to listen to the past. Walking over to my altar, I got out a bandanna, needle, and thread.

“Around me, my circles cast.

Nothing evil can get past.

Surrounding me in protective light.

Here, my magic shall take flight.”I chanted, lighting my candles.

Taking my thread, I dipped it in my moon water and began sewing protective sigils into the bandanna while chanting:

“With this thread, these sigils I bind.

Here to protect me from harm I’d find.”

As soon as the last sigil was done, I closed my circle, placed the bandanna on my window seat, and got ready for bed. I was asleep before my head even touched the pillow. I wish I could say my first night here was filled with pleasant dreams; however, that was not the case. I found myself in old Wichitan being dragged to a stake surrounded by angry villagers with torches.

“BURN THE WITCH!” Screamed the crowd as I was being tied to the stake.

“Amelia Morgan, you stand here accused of witchcraft.” Stated the priest standing before me. “How do you plead?”

Amelia? What do they mean, Amelia?

“Shouldn’t my accuser face me as I stand trial?” I asked in a voice that did not sound like my own.

A moment later, a young man made his way from the crowd to stand next to the priest. At the sight of him, I felt my heart break all over again. Nonetheless, I kept my face stoic as I chanted:

“My love stands here before me.

Once he kneeled on bended knee.

His betrayal of Morgan blood.

Shall curse his family for years to come.”

The realization of what I was doing came to everyone paying attention, and they all rushed to try and stop me. Quickly, I found a nail in the post I was tied to and cut my hand just enough to bleed.

“Each generation if a mikhale loves a Morgan

when the moon leaves the sky,

Until the curse is broken, a mikhale boy will die.”

As soon as I muttered the last line of the spell, I jolted awake in a cold sweat. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, and my breath came in short, fast spurts. I closed my eyes and tried to ground myself until I could calm down. I used this time to think about my dream; it all felt so real, but I also didn’t feel like myself. The villagers called me Amelia, which leads me to believe that this was either Amelia’s way of sending me a message or some really strange dream. After I calmed down, I looked over at my window to see that the sun was starting to rise.

Quickly, before I forgot it, I grabbed my Grimoire and wrote down everything about my dream that I could remember, which I admit wasn’t much. I don’t know how long I sat there afterwards, just staring out the window listening to the birds chirping, but eventually I heard my parents downstairs. I made the decision not to tell them about my dream. Even though my mom was a witch, I didn’t want to bother her about it if it turned out to be nothing. Eventually, I made my way downstairs to see my parents cooking breakfast with what little was unpacked.

“Good morning, dear.” My father said as I sat at the table.

“How did you sleep?” Mom asked, cracking an egg into the frying pan.

“Fine, how about you?”

She nodded in response, probably sensing that I wasn’t telling her everything, but decided not to push it. After that, we ate breakfast in comfortable silence before going back to unpacking.

“Wynter, your first day at school is in three days, to give us time to settle in okay? So no lolly-gagging about and make sure to get everything unpacked.” My dad said as I made my way back to my room.

“Okay,” I called back.

I spent the next few hours unpacking everything and making my room look the way I wanted it to. I asked my parents if they wanted me to unpack anything else, but they said no because my mom has a specific vision in mind for the rest of the house. Instead, they told me I could go and explore the grounds and find anything that we would need to get stuff to fix. I agreed, wanting to find a place to do spell work and rituals anyway.

The grounds were beautiful, and for the most part, everything was intact; it was just mostly overgrown. I didn’t realize just how big the property actually was; it felt so nice to be outside. I could connect to nature, and this garden had all sorts of herbs and plants, and I could feel all the years of magic that had been done here. I found a cute little bench to sit on and was enjoying the breeze until I felt a disturbance coming. My instincts were proven right when I heard something rustling to my right.

“Surround me in shifting light,

So I hide in plain sight.”I muttered.

Sun rays enveloped me, allowing me to disappear for a short time. The last part of me that was visible disappeared just as a boy around my age appeared from the bushes. I held my breath as he got closer so that I wouldn’t be discovered. He had light brown hair and dark brown eyes, and from what I could tell, he was quite a bit taller than I am. He was almost at the bench I was sitting at when we heard my mother call out to me. He stopped in his tracks, clearly startled, before taking off out of the garden. Once he was out of sight, I let out the breath I was holding, released the spell, and all but collapsed on the ground. Holding the spell for so long took more out of me than I thought it would. I had to take a moment or two before I could make my way back to the house. I made a mental note of the strange boy and to come back out later and see if he had messed with anything on the property.

“There you are, sweetie.” She said as I came up to the back door. “How was it?”

“Really nice, actually. It needs a good mow and some other lawn and garden care, but I honestly expected it to be worse.” I answered with a small smile.

We made our way inside as she asked why I seemed so tired all of a sudden. I just told her I practiced a tough spell and that I would tell her more later.