The Witch
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Voices echoed all around her. Ancient voices. The ones you’d hear in a crypt, a tunnel, or the underground. The trees danced in the forest that surrounded her, shading her from the outside world. The rest of the world grew silent, as if waiting for her next move. Nine moons swirled over her. Did the world see those moons? Or did they see just one moon? She didn’t care, for she had work to do. She went on with the ritual as planned, and let everything around her fade. Horns started growing on top of her head, her teeth grew longer and thinner, her hair which only reached her shoulders now reached the ground that she was kneeling on, pooling all around her, growing darker each passing second. She kept on chanting up until the pain began. She felt as if her insides were being torn apart, so she screamed, but then she remembered how important the ritual was, and continued chanting while screaming. The pain grew too much. She almost fainted, but didn’t. Moments of her life started flashing before her eyes. This is it, then. She must have done something wrong for the ritual to fail this badly and kill her. She didn’t care anymore. He wronged her, and she needed revenge more than she needed her life. She pushed forward, her chants becoming fainter and fainter, until she fainted between the trees, underneath the sky. Fever dreams plagued her. Was this hell? In her dreams, he was smiling. He was happy. She fumed at that sight. He doesn’t deserve happiness after what he did. But now there’s no one to stop him. She was dying in the middle of nowhere, and he would continue his life after everything he had done. No. She won’t allow it. Amidst all the pain, she opened her eyes, and they had turned red.
