It’s ridiculous how clueless one can be, how do you not know your wife is someone who practices the arts of white magic. Healing people, knowing all the plants in the woods the outdated creepy books and old melted white candles, she never wears black says it’s a evil color. People look at your wife whispering to each other and looking at her with side eyes and stiff shoulders. Fear, they feared her some didn’t but there where always those people that look like she was gonna explode, ticking time bomb, your beloveds health was a ticking time bomb that finally went off her heart was unstable something she couldn’t heal with herbs, oils or words. She gave you a beautiful daughter with the green eyes and freckles that matched your wife but her hair was identical to your own a milk chocolate color that was thick even at birth and shone in the light. Your wife passed away when your daughter was only 4 years old not old enough to remember much about her mother, you hide all her stuff in the attic away from the curious eyes of your daughter. You knew that the day would come, that she would find out what her mother was, she was, what was in her blood that flowed through her entire body pumping from her heart that you and your love made, her last gift to you. Nothing could prepare you for your future nothing could prepare you for anything in your life single parenthood, your gorgeous daughter practicing witchcraft in your attic like her mother and any of the events yet to happen. Right now you sit smiling to yourself watching your daughter cook after picking fresh basil from the garden writing in the notebook that you have full of your memories so you don’t forget any of them with your slipping mind.
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