Chapter 1: Witch.
Chapter 1: Witch.
If my lungs had not been burning, I would have screeched right back, but running through the thick forest in the middle of a rather cold night does take it out of you. They may have been chasing me, with their weapons raised ready to get a hold of me, but I was not a witch. I was barely spiritual at all.
I yelped when my skirt caught in the thrones of a random bush, tearing apart and exposing my now, very cold, legs.
Yes, I was being chased for reasons that are seriously unreasonable, not only so, but flat out idiotic. But why, you ask, and I would say, They have never heard of spices. Apparently liking food that burns your tongue slightly makes one capable of the dark arts.
I was not, but I definitely wish I was. Who wouldn’t want to blast these sorry excuses of men into oblivion using dark and sexy powers of darkness?
I could have cursed my parents for being the way they were, wondering how my mother had survived for so long. She was very intelligent, unlike the rest of us. My father had seriously damaged whatever intelligence she could have passed down. We weren’t allowed to appear smarter than these pathetic men, or they would burst, as they are now.
My mother always praised smarts and wit, but that also equals being a witch to these people, and my features did not help, though I did not honestly believe features did anything but go against you. Are you unconventionally beautiful? Witch, are you conventionally beautiful? Witch. It did not matter.
What a time to be alive.
I gasped in pain and surprise when someone grabbed my snowy blonde hair, by its end, tangling their grubby dirty pudgy fingers in my locks. I looked back at the disgusting balding man, his small beady eyes went down my disastrous form, and a sick smile made its way onto his face. “Caught ’er.”
Kicking him in his bejewels, that are surely worth nothing, he howled in pain, his grip loosening on my waves. I took my chance and tried to run, but his grip tightened again growing frustrated and terrified, I pulled out my dagger from its hiding place and swiftly swiped at the place connecting us. He pulled away screaming in pain, his fingers falling to the floor.
I bit my lip to stop myself from screaming in horror, not giving myself a second to realize what I had done, I sprinted away from the man, straight through the trees his screams growing farther and farther away. I was tired, my lungs were on fire, I was thirsty and very much losing pace, which wasn’t so fast in the first place.
Slowing down to stop in a thick part of vegetation, the wall of a mountain almost fully covered with moss and vines; I sat down on the soft grass, my breathing coming in short pants. I was alright with physical activity, but this was insane. I looked around, observing if they were ready to catch up or not.
My heart felt like it would explode.
Truth be told, I sat there for quite a long while. How do I know this? The stars told me that.
That’s because It was morning when I sat down.
The moon’s silver rays barely shone through the branches of the tall trees, the thick greenery hiding most light keeping the forest dark.
The silver was brilliant.
I had always enjoyed the night, the darkest hour was my favourite, the eclipse a very close second. I love seeing the stars etched into the dark sky like that game I used to play with some of my siblings, making dots connecting lines between each one to make squares, but this time you invent new constellations so you could easily draw and read your own map to your own land. Create everything you like, painting and writing your own stories of every tiny little star.
It always made me wonder how it would feel to go closer to one, take one’s first steps on one, and where they would disappear in the mourning.
I stretched and I felt a cold material under my fingertips, the feeling of moss. As much as I loved the company of the moon, the night brought on it’s own challenges. For one, I was freezing, and the moss looked quite soft and inviting, I stood up and pulled at the moss, trying to tear it.
I succeeded at landing on my ass, the moss as stubborn as I. Standing up again I pulled at the moss again, moving side to side, trying to pull it off.
“Oh my...” I ran my hand through my hair. “The stupid is truly infectious.” I mumbled to myself as soon as I realized, I did indeed have a dagger and did not need this pain.
My hand went down into my skirt, looking for my blade, hoping I had not dropped it while running.
After twenty minutes of not finding anything I collapsed onto the floor exhausted. The morning came soon, and I looked for food and water, but failed in my search.
It’s been two days since the chase and I was dying.
No food, no water.
I could not find anything and I was crumbling. My throat burned and my stomach ached, as if my stomach was eating my kidney.
I stumbled and fell to the floor, my vision blurred, darkness fought to consume the rest of it. The image of what I could only hope was shoes entered my line of vision.
I felt someone’s hands grab my waist, and pull me up before I welcomed the darkness as it overwhelmed me and rendered me unconscious.