just-gonna-write

[just-gonna-write]

this story is a multi-narrator piece between two lovers whose relationship is going south. i didn’t have the time to write enough introduction to their relationship or the slow descent i planned, so i intend to rewrite it eventually

Ivy

Today was awful. First, I spilled my iced coffee all over myself when I was already

running late for work, and had to shower and change all over again. Then, my hair got all messed up from the wind on my walk to work, which made me look horrifically unprofessional at a big meeting where I was meant to represent my boss. Needless to say, she was very unhappy. And so was I.

The tension knotting my shoulders together was uncomfortable, aching and creaking every time I moved. I just wanted to plop down on the couch with Lonnie and forget this entire day happened. I opened the front door, the rusted knob feeling cool in my palm. The door was old, with little chunks of wood having been stripped away over the years. It complemented the patchy, fading paint of the hallway.

When the door opened I was expecting to be met with the warm, yellow light of the kitchen, and maybe the smell of dinner beginning to be cooked. Most nights dinner was my responsibility, but I’d told Lonnie I was running late and asked her to start without me.

Instead, I was met with a silent, dark apartment that decidedly lacked the smell of dinner being cooked.

“Lonnie?” I called out as I closed the door behind me. My own voice surprised me. Weak, quiet, a little scratchy. Now that I thought about it, my throat had been feeling a little sore today. Maybe I was coming down with something. “Avalon?”

Silence.

I sighed, putting my head in my hands. Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and salty and unstoppable. I couldn’t prevent them from slipping through my pale fingers, making my hands feel all gross and wet.

I didn’t know why I was crying honestly, nothing was making me want to cry. Maybe it was the fact that I was clearly alone. Maybe it was from relief that I could get my stress out in private. Maybe it was because I missed my girlfriend. She was still asleep when I left this morning, and she was gone when I came home.

I plopped down on the soft, plush couch that we’d had since the beginning of our relationship. Lonnie took me on a dumpster diving date, it was the first adventure I’d ever been on in my life. It was so thrilling, and eventually afterward, while we were covered in smelly garbage, we stumbled across this couch on the street.

It was perfect. Not broken at all, which shocked me, only a little dirty. It was a nice warm orange color, the kind that reminded you of rust and sunshine and a cozy campfire. The kind that reminded me of Lonnie. We took it home that day and I’d been in love with it ever since.

When I remembered the present and looked around the apartment my heart dropped. Clothes strewn everywhere, piles and piles of dishes in the sink, trash from Lonnie’s Taco Bell lunch still on the counter, everything that could be messy was messy. Before I could do anything to stop them, even more tears leaked from my eyes. She didn’t even bother to clean up after herself.

The mess made my heart race and pound and shake. I couldn’t just leave it there, that would be disgusting. It was a tripping hazard and would definitely attract bugs, and we did not need roaches in this already awful apartment. If I can’t get hot water every day, I at least need a lack of bugs.

I dragged myself up, ignoring the ache in my thighs and shoulders. My heels were boring into my skin and everything felt wrong. Everything hurt. Everything was awful. The sound of the AC whirring made me want to rip my ears off. I threw off my black high heels and got to work.

If my body hadn’t ached so much maybe it would’ve been relaxing. However, I was in the worst mood imaginable and hunger was making my body hurt. While I did the dishes I mulled over the idea of cooking dinner, like I did every night.

But no.

If I had to clean up this whole apartment after the excruciating day I had, I deserved a treat. I was going to Doordash something for once in my life and not regret it. I didn’t care how greasy and expensive it was, I deserved this.

That’s what I told myself when I shut off the lights in my bedroom, finally preparing to plop on the bed and pass out after the day I’d had. I was full of McDonald’s fries and chicken nuggets and this was the first moment of contentment I’d had all day.

I didn’t even pay any mind to the fact that it was now 10:15pm and Lonnie was nowhere to be found. I just stretched out and enjoyed the extra space in the bed.

Avalon

The sun was so bright it burned my eyes. When I blinked I could see odd splotches of

purple in the darkness of my closed eyes, and I let a big, toothy grin stretch across my face. This day was perfect.

The girl across from me, an old friend I’d known since we were little, smiled too. It was radiant, vibrant as the sun that gleamed on our faces. I knew my girlfriend never had liked her all that much, she was weird about old friends. Especially weird about old friends who happened to be pretty girls I’d dated in high school.

But for right now Ivy didn’t matter, only the beautiful blondie in front of me. She held a martini glass and gave me a sly smile as she wrapped her ruby red lips around the edge.

“Does your girlfriend know you’re here?” She asked with a lilted, playful tone. There was a smile in her voice and a laugh on her face. That must’ve always been the most attractive thing about her when we were together, she always had this sense of joy in life, no matter what. She was never bogged down by worries, insecurities or jealousy.

She and Ivy were very, very different. Which is exactly why I asked her to help me unwind on my day off. We chose a fun lunch spot with outdoor seating, the kind of restaurant that had colorful umbrellas on the tables despite being nowhere near the beach. A light breeze ran through my hair and over my skin, giving me relief from the hot sun. The taste of overly sweet fruit lingered on my tongue even when I wasn’t sipping my colorful drink, something with a pun for a name that I’d already forgotten. Today was bliss.

“Don’t be silly Liv, you know Ivy would never let me leave the house if she knew I was with you.” I laughed, a deep belly laugh that rumbled throughout my entire body.

“I suppose that makes sense. Why is she so jealous, anyway?” Liv asked. An image of Ivy freaking out over nothing flashed in my brain and involuntarily I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t know, but it’s so annoying. She’s just so insecure and I guess I get it because she was bullied and stuff as a kid but like, why does that matter now? We’re adults, it’s time to move on, you know? It’s not my fault some girls were kinda mean to her when she was like seven, so I don’t know why she takes it out on me.” I said in a huff. Liv rolled her big blue eyes and a small smile quirked my lip upward.

As much as I loved Ivy, she could never be as pretty as Liv. It was like comparing a weird little crusty white dog with a beautiful dove.

Don’t get me wrong, Ivy was really pretty in her own right. She had ginger hair that was cropped in a precise bob, trimmed perfectly every week so it wouldn’t grow out. She was just as meticulous with her straight-across bangs, they never grew long enough to hide her dark green eyes. She really was pretty, but she didn’t know how to dress to accentuate her features and make her stunning. Her baggy hoodies swallowed her form and the leggings she wore everyday did nothing for her either.

Liv, on the other hand, was absolutely gorgeous. I’d never seen anyone so beautiful in my life. Her long hair was bleached blonde, evidenced by the half-inch of brown roots sprouting from the top of her head. Somehow, that added to her charm. She almost always painted her plump lips cherry red, tempting as a siren’s song. She always wore colors that fit in a cohesive palette of pinks, lavender, teal, and red. Those were her best colors, which she’d learned from a color analyst. She was perfectly put together in every way imaginable. Every time I saw her my heart swelled and skipped a beat.

I hadn’t experienced that with Ivy in months.

But I liked Ivy. She was sweet, she always cheered me up when I needed someone and surprised me with new flowers whenever the old ones died. She made me dinner, she cleaned, she looked after me when my head pounded from my own poor decisions that I always seemed to make. She was a nice girl. It wouldn’t have killed her to dress up for me every once in a while, but she was nice.

“Why are you still with her?” Liv’s blunt voice grabbed my attention and snapped me out of my daydreams.

“What?” I asked.

“Why are you with Ivy? She seems like such a drag and honestly you could do a lot better. I mean-” Her voice was cut off by the sound of my ringtone. I glanced at my cracked old phone screen and saw a picture of Ivy staring back at me. It was from our first date. She had chocolate ice cream smeared on her lips and her grin was the biggest I’d ever seen.

“Who is it?” Liv asked, inquisitive blue eyes trying to peer down at my phone.

“It’s Ivy. I should take this.” I said quietly, huffing out a sigh. What could she possibly want? Liv sighed too, rolling her eyes.

“Hello? Lonnie-?”

“Avalon.”

“Oh hey baby! I’m sorry to interrupt but where are you? I thought we were going out

today.” Ivy’s voice crackled through the phone.

“I’m out with a friend.” I said quietly, decisively. I wanted nothing more than to get out

of this stupid call and just enjoy my lunch with Liv.

“What? But we were planning on going out to that new restaurant that just opened,

Yolonda’s? You never have days off, I was really excited to do this with you Lonnie.”

“Don’t call me Lonnie, you know I hate that nickname. And I’m actually at Yolanda's right now with Liv.” I rolled my eyes yet again as I spoke. I did that a lot with Ivy.

“You are?” She sounded like a kicked puppy. Some part of me felt bad, but another part, deep inside of me, smiled to itself. Some part of me wanted to hurt her more. Maybe it was resentment. Maybe it was bitterness. I wasn’t a bad person, but that part of me wanted to be one in that moment.

“Yeah, so I’ll see you at home okay?” I asked, pulling my phone away from my ear before I heard her frenzied voice.

“Wait! I’m confused, you knew we had a date planned and you went to that same place with your ex instead?” She asked. I heard a sniffle. Months ago, my heart would’ve hurt for her, I would’ve felt that ache in my chest that told me I did something wrong and needed to fix it.

I didn’t feel that ache. Instead, I turned on speaker phone.

“It’s not a big deal. Liv is a friend, it’s not like I’m cheating on you.” I scoffed.

“Yeah, Ivy, I promise we’re not doing anything weird. Just having lunch! It’s really good,

you really should try this place out!” Liv giggled into the phone. Her features, beautiful as they were the day I first saw her, were twisted into a playful smirk. Before Ivy could get another word in I hung up the phone.

“Girlfriends, am I right?” I laughed. After that we continued on with the conversation, flowing like the ocean’s gentle waves at the beach. In this moment, I didn’t like Ivy much. And in this moment, I didn’t care.

Ivy

Salt stung my eyes, like they were an open wound, bleeding and festering with an ugly

infection, as I stared at my phone screen. Now blurred by the tears, I couldn’t see the faces staring back at me, but I could feel them. Burning into my skin, slicing my heart open and leaving it for dead.

Why wasn’t I pretty? Or cool? Or successful or rich or-

I needed help, I needed something, anything. My hands were shaking so hard I dropped my phone. In my dizzy haze I couldn’t even register where it had gone.

Why, why, why?

Everyone I knew in high school had gotten engaged or married. Everyone I knew. And all they did was brag and brag on social media about how good they looked (and God did they look good), how successful they were, or how happy they were. Everything in their lives was perfect. Why? Why not me? Why did I deserve to be stuck in this dead end, in a relationship with someone who couldn’t even pick up their own dishes, let alone take me on a date? It had to be because I wasn’t pretty. I wasn’t worth attention, I wasn’t worth energy, I wasn’t worth love.

This wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair.

My chest hurt. My body hurt. I was stuck in a spiral, a whirlpool of hellish misery. This wasn’t fair. All I did was give and give, all for nothing. Where was my happy ending? Where was my prize?

All I could do was quiver pathetically, shake like a puppy abandoned in a rain-soaked box.

In my flurry of anxiety, I missed the sound of a key jangling, so I was only alerted to Avalon’s presence when I heard a voice ring out behind me.

“Ivy?”

My heart stopped. No, no, no, no, no. She couldn’t see me like this. She couldn’t see me being so pathetic or she’d leave me. I needed her. I wanted her. I loved her.

“Ivy? What’s wrong?” She asked. It was softer than normal.

“Go away.” I sobbed, burying my face in my knees, hugging my legs tight to my chest. “Seriously? I’m only trying to help.” Ivy scoffed. My heart sank.

“Wait no, I’m sorry I just-” I scrambled to get up and face her. I knew I looked a mess.

Disheveled. Tear-stained. Red-faced. Ugly.

“No, you know what? I’m not gonna help if you’re gonna be a baby about this. I’m really

busy today so come find me when you wanna be an adult. I’ll be on the computer in our room.” Ivy said. The tinge of coldness in her tone made me shiver.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. She couldn’t hear me.

I looked around. What was my life? Why was I here? In this dingy apartment, sitting on an old couch the color of rust that I had taken from a dumpster. A black hole of dreams and goals. Why did I stay?

Why did I want this?

All I wanted was for Avalon to hold me tight against her chest, safe and warm, feeling the muscles of her arms flex against my back. Her skin had always been so soft. I wrapped my own arms around myself, shielding my bare arms from the bite of cold. The AC was loud, blaring, and I could faintly hear typing in the other room.

Click-click-click.

I bent down, picking up my discarded phone in the depths of the couch. The screen was cool against my hand. When it lit up, I noticed a crack in the screen, one I hadn’t noticed before. It was thin, hairlike, splitting the image of me and Avalon apart.

Even my phone screen was falling apart.

Avalon

Three unread texts lit up my phone. All from Ivy, all hopelessly annoying. I couldn’t do

this anymore. I couldn’t handle the “where are you”s and “I thought we had plans” for another minute. That woman got on my nerves in the worst way possible. Finally, I snapped. I was done. I was going to a bar to clear my head.

It was a janky old dive bar, not the kind of place I would’ve gotten to go to if I had Ivy following me like the lost puppy she was. She never could handle any fun.

I was surprised she’d let me take her dumpster diving on the first date. It was out of character, looking back, for someone so prissy. Ever since she made a face every time I suggested what I wanted to do together.

Dive bar? Grimace. Getting a tattoo? Grimace. Punk concert at the bowling alley? Grimace. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Why did I choose to spend two years of my life with someone who wanted nothing more than to “fix” me?

What I needed was a good beer to take my mind off of everything. Well, what I needed was a woman who actually cared about me, but the beer was the closest thing I could get, so I would have to settle for that.

But strangely, the more I drank, the more that other desire grew. To be in the arms of a loving, kind woman. A woman full of light, not dull like my own girlfriend. A woman who made the heavens open with her laugh, who looked on at me with adoration instead of disgust. A woman who wasn’t so ridiculously needy.

Perhaps a blonde woman, with long hair and big doe eyes. Light colored, but I wasn’t close enough to see the exact color. Perhaps a woman whose makeup made her look sharp, angular, and alluring, with dark eyeliner framing those light eyes and red lips quirked up in a smirk. Perhaps a woman who preferred a black crop-top and tight leather pants, rather than a chunky sweater that was so big it only stayed on one shoulder. No ginger locks cropped into an uneven bob, cut with kitchen scissors at any little inconvenience. Not dark green eyes that looked brown if you were far away. Not a freckle to be seen, instead replaced with skin the color of honey, warm and inviting.

I found myself being carried across the bar. By my own feet, I realized. I practically floated to the blonde woman. When she fixed her gaze on me, my body felt as if it was on fire.

I hadn’t felt that in a long time.

“Avalon.” I introduced.

“Lily.” The name rolled off her tongue, smooth as her skin looked.

Soon enough, it was rolling off of mine too, and I discovered her skin was as soft as it

looked. Her hair was soft too, as were her lips. Everything about her was warm.

I knew she was gone when I woke up the next morning and the motel bed was cold.

My head was pounding, burning with the familiar sensation of alcohol’s revenge. When I

looked around, I saw nothing but messy white sheets and my own phone, wallet and ID on the desk. No trace of the woman anywhere. When she left, my dignity left with her. Now I was left in a motel bed with nothing but regret and a hangover.

And 14 missed calls, I learned when I picked up my phone from the desk

When I stumbled my way home, my thighs still sore and aching with memory of the night before, I wondered what I would tell Ivy. Perhaps I would say I ran into an old friend and

stayed the night. Perhaps I would say I ended up so drunk I passed out right outside of the bar. Perhaps I’d say I was visiting my parents.

The last one would probably get me in the least trouble.

However, when I told Ivy my selected excuse, the only thing in her eyes was rage. Burning, festering, ugly rage. When I began to ask why she looked so mad, she interrupted me.

“What is that on your neck?” She asked quietly. Despite how badly she seemed to want to scream, her voice was calm. Too calm. Dangerously calm.

“What do you mean?” I asked. I couldn’t let her see the fear in my eyes. She looked like a wolf hunting down a squirrel. I did not want to be her squirrel.

“That bruise. On your neck. How did you get that?”

My heart stopped.

“I...” I was lost for words, fumbling for something, anything to say.

“You what, Avalon? What exactly did you do? Don’t lie to me. You’ve always been so

honest, I’d really hate for you to break that streak now.” She spat. I shrunk backward.

I was, indeed, her squirrel. And soon my blood would paint these white walls red.

“I don’t know how-”

“Bull.” She spat. Her arsenic eyes lit up with menace. “What. Did. You. Do.”

“Look, Ivy, it was just a one night thing, I promise.” I whispered. One arm, gone. Ripped

off by the wolf. As my heart pumped and pumped, it felt like it was going to explode. It felt like there was a bomb beneath my skin, itching for its moment to trigger and tear the world apart piece by piece.

“Just a one night thing?! You cheat on me, and then you go and try to act like it’s okay because it was only one night?! Get out of my apartment! Get out!” She screamed. She took another step toward me. Fight or flight.

Before I knew it she was on the ground.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but not normal tears. These were tears of fire, blue fire, hot and ready to burn anyone who touched it.

“You don’t own the place Ivy, you can’t just kick me out!” I yelped.

“Need I remind you that it’s my name on the lease? That I bought basically everything in this stupid place? I can kick you out, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. I don’t care if your stupid feelings are hurt because you know what? That’s all you’ve done to me for the past two years! And I was so blind, just sitting around and hoping that you’d change, saying I’m better off sad than alone, but that’s not true at all! You’re never going to change, all you’ll ever be is cruel. Get your stuff and go. I never wanna see you again.”

“Where am I supposed to go, huh?!” I demanded. She took a slow step towards me. “Go to visit your parents.” She spat.

“Ivy.”

“Go.”

When I was done collecting my belongings, tail between my legs. I glanced around. White walls with paint chipping. A kitchen light flickering, casting a warm hue on the walls. That old couch, the color of the rising sun. It looked dimmer now than ever.

And Ivy, arms crossed, glaring at me. I’d never seen her so upset. I caused that. I did this. I ruined my own life.

“Sorry.” I whispered as I opened the door to leave. No response.

What had I done?

#writing #author #creative writing #short story #original writing #multi-narrator writing #multi narrator writing

[just-gonna-write]

this poem is written about mourning ophelia from hamlet! i wrote it both from the perspective of laertes and hamlet, so i’d love if people would comment who they see more :)

The Wind is Gone Now

The flowers she once picked

Wilted beneath the ground

A grave the river digs

I hope her peace is found

When she gave her last breath

The wind sighed with her

The moon cried for her death

The sun made her voice heard

Like a vice, she grips me

Holds my soul prisoner

Gone are flowers and trees

They’re busy mourning her

Forgive me dear, I plead

For now I see her woe

I would fulfill her needs

But instead, there she goes

No more wooshing of wind

The world is silent now

My prospects now are dim

I must move on, but how?

#writing #author #poetry #poem #hamlet #ophelia poetry #laertes #ophelia #ophelia hamley #laertes hamlet #fresh prince of denmark #poetry about hamlet #poetry about ophelia

[just-gonna-write]

Spirit of the Flowers

Wilted flowers in the gloom

A garden I once knew by heart

Daisies, daffodils, dahlias, daphnes

All gone and rotted beneath the ground.

The picket fence’s paint has chipped

And the roof lost shingles in a storm

I tied my hair up tight

And began to walk away.

But then I caught a glimpse of her

A wisp, translucent

Buzzing like the static on an old TV screen

Like a daisy in the wind

She has a toothy smile, as pale as her ghostly skin

Her hair is long and flowing

Her floral-printed tights are ripped at the knees.

With a giggle, I am beckoned

Far into the wood

She leads me to a field that the sun still knows

Full of long grass stretching toward the heavens

And I free my hair again.

#writing #author #poetry #poem #teenage poet #teen poet

[just-gonna-write]

This story is a mystery piece I did for creative writing :) trigger warning for violence

Ellie Stoll was a normal girl. Long brown hair, big brown eyes, almost exclusively seen in old hoodies and comfortable sweatpants. Normal. She spent her time going to school, doing her homework, hanging out with her best (and only) friend Ezra, and scrolling on her phone. Nothing was particularly exceptional about her.

So why she’d just received an anonymous love letter on her doorstep, she didn’t know. She opened her front door, heavy trash bag in hand, ready to simply bring it out to the dumpster and go back to her game of Mario Kart, but a stark white envelope caught her eye. It had little hearts drawn on it, with no return address to be seen. It beautifully contrasted the stormy gray pavement it laid on. Ellie looked around, curious who the mystery person was, but when she saw no one she shrugged and bent over to pick it up. The wooden door swung closed behind her as she absent-mindedly made her way to the kitchen table, placing the trash bag on the floor next to her.

This was far more important than some garbage.

Upon closer examination, the white envelope’s hearts had been drawn in pencil, but then colored over with a deep blue pen. It was pretty, but a little strange to Ellie. With steady hands, she ripped the top of the envelope open to retrieve the letter inside.

Written on lined paper, the same kind she normally doodled on while pretending to take notes in class, the handwriting was messy and hard to read, written in fountain pen. Ellie squinted, focusing hard on decoding the message that had been left to her.

“Dearest Ellie,

I’ve admired you for quite some time now, but I never had the confidence to write to you until now, so please forgive me. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. You are like the sun, bright and vibrant. I hope to always bask in that light.

Thanks for being you,

Anonymous”

How strange, who could’ve possibly written that? Ellie smiled a bit to herself, the kind with just one side of her mouth quirked upward, incredibly subtle. If you looked into her eyes, however, you’d see the way they shone from the flattery. Her cheeks felt warm, her chest was soaring, but she wasn’t sure if she could bring herself to believe what she was reading. She’d never considered herself any of the things this person was describing, especially not vibrant.

Ellie wondered who was behind this, but it was more of a passing curiosity than a burning question. She mostly just wanted to thank the person for their kindness.

“Well, looks like the trash won’t take itself out.” She sighed, pushing her hands onto her lap while she stood, groaning and stretching like an elderly dog. She picked up the bag and made her way back outside. It was a bit brisk outside today, just little wind present to push the brown leaves on the pavement around, almost like they were doing a choreographed dance. Ellie shook her head, smiling. She could focus on anything but the mundane task at hand.

It didn’t surprise her, her family had always teased her for having her head in the clouds. Her dad would wag his finger and shake his head, her mom would roll her eyes but smile playfully, but her brother’s reaction was always her favorite. Every single time she got off track, he would punch her arm and tell her, “You’re so silly, Eloise.”

Sometimes she missed that voice, teasing and playful and lively. It had the perfect balance of annoyance and affection that all siblings knew perfectly. He had always tiptoed on that line, the ideal mix of both conflicting emotions. Sometimes she just repeated that sentence in her head so it would feel like he was still there. You’re so silly, Eloise. You’re so silly, Eloise. You’re so silly, Eloise.

“What am I doing, getting distracted thinking about Nick while taking out the trash? Get it together, weirdo.” She muttered to herself, finally dropping the bag, so heavy the white plastic was visibility straining, into the dumpster. The chill nipped at her exposed skin. Her current outfit, a cropped tee and old gym shorts, wasn’t doing much to keep her warm.

She headed inside and started boiling water to dump some pasta in. As the bubbles began to form, she looked around the room. It was messy, clearly lived in, but pasta sauce was nowhere to be found.

“I guess I’m just eating buttered noodles tonight.” She sighed. It was hard looking over an empty house, there were always things to be done and Ellie hated being alone. The windows got to be creepy at night when she was alone, she always felt like someone was peering in, watching her through the glass.

But that was a silly thought.

Ellie heard a loud, sudden meow behind her, making her heart leap from her chest. She turned around and there stood Chestnut in all her glory. A long haired cat, dappled with brown and ginger and black. Her yellow eyes burned into Ellie’s.

“Thank god it’s just you Chestnut, you scared me!” She gasped, gripping onto the counter behind her for dear life. A sigh escaped her mouth as she settled a calmer gaze on the little animal. It hadn’t moved, looking up at Ellie with unspoken expectations written on its furry face.

“Okay fine, don’t look at me like that.” She grumbled, “Jeez, what has my life become? Being bullied into submission by my own cat.” She grabbed the cat’s bowl from the ground and filled it, listening to the cat wailing for the food inside.

“Yeah yeah I know, you need your dinner first.”

Despite herself, the corner of Ellie’s mouth did quirk upward. She had to admit, the cat was good company when no one else was around.

However the best company was not a cat demanding its dinner, but Ezra Schepker waiting on her doorstep on a sunny morning.

“Well bonjour m’lady, and how art thou on this fine morning?” He asked with a wide grin. Ellie laughed while she locked the front door, backpack full of textbooks weighing heavily on her shoulders already.

“I cannot even describe how stupid that was.” She spoke dryly.

“You hurt me, Eloise, you really do.” He pouted, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “You’re lucky I love you enough to still graciously walk you to school.”

“If you don’t stop calling me that dumb name, you’re walking alone.”

“Ouch.”

“Not my fault you walked right into that.”

“And not my fault you cannot stand the thought of someone loving you.” He tightened his grip on her shoulder for a moment. The hug was casual, comfortable.

“You’re right. I wholeheartedly believe that I’m better than everyone else and the idea of lowering myself to the level of some normal person disgusts me.” Ellie said in a snippety, high pitched tone. Ezra laughed, a loud laugh that sounded like birdsong and sunshine. The kind of laugh that would send butterflies flitting throughout anyone’s body. He’d always had a magnetism to him, he attracted the rest of the world effortlessly. Ellie was almost jealous for the ease he had making friends.

“Oh by the way, did you do that dumb mini-essay for English?” Ezra asked out of the blue. Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Yes, and no you can’t copy it.”

“You know me so well.” He said dramatically, placing a dainty hand on his forehead to swoon.

“Too well.” Ellie grumbled, turning her head away from him so he wouldn’t see the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

“There’s no such thing as knowing me too well, I’m a mystery. I’ve got layers, like an onion.” Ezra declared.

“...Was that a Shrek reference?”

“You know it was.”

The pair continued to loudly chatter and giggle on their way to Jackson High School. It was a smaller school, old and made entirely of rust-colored brick. No graduating class had had over one hundred and fifty students in years, decades even. The student body was as normal and unenthusiastic for their town and school as they came. The only person with any sense of school spirit was the mascot for all the games, a boy who was always smiling.

He was one of Ezra’s close friends, in fact. One of the few who he felt genuine closeness with, not like the rest of his hoard who he mostly just chatted with in class or lunch, maybe the occasional party after school.

“We’re here, want me to walk you to your class?” Ezra’s gentle voice interrupted Ellie’s thoughts. She looked up from the dusty gray pavement to see that he was right, there stood the prison she spent her days at.

“No thanks Z, I know you need to go talk to Mr. Rybkowski before class.” She spoke quietly, hardly sparing him a tired glance. She knew he was just staring forward too.

“Right, I forgot! Thanks for the reminder, I gotta go. See you in calc?” He asked with a grin, finally turning to her. She smiled back, and with a nod the two had begun walking their separate ways.

First period, journalism. Ellie nearly groaned, rolling her eyes despite the sheer number of her peers surrounding her. For how tiny the school was, the hallways got suffocating.

Elie hated journalism from the bottom of her heart. She’d only taken it for a required graduation credit, and it was taught by the worst teacher in the school. Mrs. Browning. She always sat the worst kids next to Ellie, plus she didn’t let her and Ezra sit together in English (which she also taught).

Sometimes Ellie wished she could just pass out in that class and sleep the whole way through. Maybe with some teachers that could be a viable option, but not Mrs. Browning. She’d always wake her kids up with a slap on the desk, a loud one that made everyone’s ears hurt.

In journalism class, the person she’d sat Ellie next to was some boy named Silas. He was tall, with eyebags of deep purple and a voice that no one had ever heard. Ellie had sat next to him in classes for years and still had no idea what his voice sounded like. It was honestly a little creepy to Ellie.

The desire for sleep tugged at Ellie’s eyelids when she sat down, making her eyes burn. She was the first person in the room, even having beat Mrs. Browning herself. She decided to indulge in a little nap.

When she woke up, it was to a ruler banging on her desk. Over and over and over.

“I’m up, I’m up.” She groaned, sitting up and stretching her shoulders with wide eyes.

“Good, I would hate to see you sleeping in my class, Miss Stoll.” The woman growled. Ellie knew she was expecting a response, an “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again ma’am!” Or something, but Ellie just stared at her in silence.

The rest of class dragged on, but Ellie noticed every so often that Silas, the strange boy next to her, kept glancing at her. His eyes never lingered, and the look on his face was unreadable. Probably judging her for sleeping in class. He looked really tired and yet she’d never seen him asleep.

The class dragged on and Ellie didn’t catch a thing Mrs. Browning said, her eyelids drooping the entire time, blinking to keep herself awake. After an hour that dragged on for far too long, the bell rang to free Ellie.

The rest of the school day was just as boring as that class. Calc with Ezra, he kept passing her notes and almost got both of them in trouble. Psychology, Ellie almost fell asleep again. AP biology, Ellie had to dissect a crawdad. Lunch, Ellie didn’t want to eat after the whole crawdad thing. United States history, another day of talking about some war Ellie didn’t care about. P.E. Ellie had to run the mile. She hated running. Sewing. She worked on a pair of pants. Finally, English.

Despite the awful teacher and sitting next to Silas (again), Ellie liked English. Ezra was in that class, and Ellie liked to read. She had a 99% in the class without even trying. She felt a sense of calm wash over her, like a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day. A little smile curled her lips up, just in the left corner.

Ellie felt a tap on her shoulder and heard a “boo!” behind her. Without so much as a flinch, she turned to look behind her. There Ezra stood, ginger hair seeming to shine in the ugly fluorescent lights, his hands making claws in front of him. He was smiling victoriously until he noticed her bored expression, and dropped the grin with a pout.

“Ughhh, Ellieeee, you’re supposed to be scared!” He whined. Ellie let the laugh that bubbled her chest slide from her lips, low and quiet. Anybody but Ezra would’ve mistaken it for a trick of the ear, but he knew better. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I can’t help it, you’re so silly.” She whispered slyly.

“You’re the worst.” The sound of the bell brought them back to reality. “I gotta go back to my seat, see ya.”

“See ya later dork.” Ellie muttered with a smile. She knew he could hear her. It was like he had super-senses when it came to her.

When Mrs. Browning stood up from her desk and took her place at the front of the classroom, Ellie yawned. She had the urge to roll her eyes too, but that she thought better of. Instead, she focused more on her teacher’s outfit and classroom than words.

The room was colorless, with few decorations lining the walls. All she had were black and white posters of obscure Shakespeare plays that weren’t covered in the curriculum. Cymbeline. Measure for Measure. Love's Labour's Lost. As You Like It. She was always raving about his more obscure works. Ellie didn’t care.

Today Mrs. Browning wore a frumpy, mustard yellow pencil skirt and a deep violet button up with a sky blue little necktie. No wonder her room was all shades of gray, she had no idea how to match colors.

“Earth to Eloise.” Speak of the devil, her teacher’s shrill voice broke Ellie from her daydreams.

“Yes?”

“Oh, now you pay attention. I have half the mind to give you detention.” Ellie sat silently, watching the teacher with a blank face. “You’re very lucky I’m feeling nice today. Now,” Mrs. Browning began asking her question, and Ellie answered correctly. Same as always.

When the bell rang, she breathed a sigh of relief. It took her no time to scoop up her backpack and face Ezra, who was already standing right by her desk.

“Dude, did you teleport or something?”

“You’ll never know.” He winked playfully, extending his arm. Ellie took his elbow in her hand with a roll of her eyes and a laugh from her lips.

“I don’t need to. You’re weird and I’ll keep it at that.” she laughed. She reached down to grab the black backpack leaning against her desk, but before she could a pale arm swooped in and grabbed it.

“I’ll be taking this for you, madam.” Ezra gave her a smooth, goofy smile. It rolled across his lips like melted butter, spreading warmth all over his face until his eyes seemed to shine with mirth.

“I can’t stop you, can I?” Ellie asked.

“No you cannot, Eloise.”

“Ellie.”

“Eloise.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too, Eloise.”

It was cold at night in the Stoll household. Ellie’s dad never really liked to spend money on heat, so she was left shivering, layering fuzzy socks over normal socks so the chill wouldn’t make her toes numb.

Ding-dong. The doorbell ringing took her out of her thoughts. She padded toward the door and saw a dark figure running away before she opened it. A letter laid neatly on her doorstep, fountain pen hearts drawn all over the stark white envelope. Ellie looked around. Nothing. She picked it up, only to notice a second envelope, this one a pale blue in color, this time with “My love” written on the top right corner. Still in fountain pen.

A little creeped out, Ellie glanced around again. Nothing. She quickly swung the door closed so she could examine the letters without any intrusive eyes following her.

At the wooden kitchen table, a deep mahogany that Ellie’s parents loved, Ellie sat and examined her new notes. The handwriting on the envelope, swoopy and neat, matched the writing on the older note from the day before. No doubt from the same person. A shiver ran down Ellie’s spine.

“Dearest Ellie,

You looked exceptionally beautiful today in that hoodie. But you definitely would look a lot cuter without it ;) In fact, you should skip wearing it tomorrow. I bet you’d look gorgeous in that sweater your mom bought you in Chicago.

Sincerely,

Your secret admirer”

The next letter was more sinister than the last two. Ellie felt as if eyes were drilling into her from every angle, every dark corner was infinitely more suspicious than it was before.

“My dearest Eloise,

I hope you’ve been receiving my correspondence. It would be a shame if you ignored me. A goddess like you would never ignore anyone, could she? After all, her people would suffer if I don’t receive the attention I want. Do as I instructed in the previous note please, and no one gets hurt.

With love,

Your future over”

To wear the sweater, or not wear the sweater? Ellie pondered both options as she stared at the neat writing scrawled in front of her. Questions lingered in her mind, like bubbles floating toward the surface.

How did this person know so much about Ellie? Her real name, that stupid sweater? The only person she’d ever told those things to were Ezra, and this couldn’t be him, not a chance. He would never be interested in someone like her. He had tons of friends, tons of beautiful and smart girls around him every day. Ellie wouldn’t blame him for liking any of them, honestly.

There was only one way to find out who this person was and if they were bluffing. First, Ellie would disobey the person giving her this mysterious command. She would wear a hoodie, perhaps a different hoodie just to show that she’d read it.

Next, Ellie would stop by the store after school tomorrow to set them up on her porch. Surely this person would give her some reaction mail, and when they did she’d catch them red handed. The plan was foolproof.

That next morning, Ellie stepped outside to see Ezra, chipper as usual, extending his arm to her. She rolled her eyes playfully and walked right past him, and he jogged for a moment to catch up.

“You’re even less chipper than normal, Eloise, what’s the matter?” He asked. Genuine concern laced his voice.

“Nothing really, just a little stressed about school.” She replied quietly. She hated lying.

“Really, what about? If you’re having trouble with any of your classes you know I could help you.” Ezra offered. Ellie glanced over. His eyes were almost shining in the morning sun.

“I guess I could use a little help with math. Meet me in the library after school?” She asked.

Perfect opportunity to examine him and check if he gave off any signs of being the weird stalker.

That day, all of Ellie’s classes were extraordinarily boring. Her body itched to know, to find out who it could be. She couldn’t concentrate on anything her teachers said if she tried. She was on a faraway island, watching them all through a telescope.

Ezra was acting very normal. No one else was looking at her besides that boy sitting next to her. He looked at her a lot. He always had. She assumed he looked next to him when he zoned out.

Finally the bell rang, freeing Ellie to go to the library to study. She needed to take a good look at her number one suspect.

Speak of the devil, Ellie felt a tap on her shoulder and saw Ezra beaming at her over her shoulder.

“You ready to go?” He asked with a sweet grin. That smile made one spread on Ellie’s face too, making it feel warm and achy.

“You can meet me down there, I need to refill my water really quickly.” She didn’t really need to, she just wanted to see what he would do when he thought he was alone. If he wrote something in fountain pen, it was him. It had to be.

Ellie peered into the library. The halls were mostly empty, so she decided to flatten her back against the wall. Luckily, Ezra was sitting somewhere where she could easily see him. He sat alone, scrolling through his phone, adorned in a glaringly blue case.

Suddenly, a boy walked up to Ezra. Ellie couldn’t recall his name, but she knew she’d seen them two talking before. They had to be friends.

“Hey man, how are you?” Ellie could hear their muffled conversation.

“Good, nervous.”

“Are you finally gonna man up and do it?” Do what, Ellie wondered.

“Yeah, I’m gonna tell her how I feel.” She perked up at that. A confession? That was suspicious.

“Awesome! Face to face right?”

“Well….”

“C'mon man, you promised you’d tell Ellie you like her face to face.” Oh no.

“I’m just so nervous! I’m gonna write her a note instead.” Oh no.

Ellie didn’t want to believe it. Her breathing was quick, shallow. She had to get out. Her best friend was her stalker. Her best friend threatened to hurt her loved ones. How could he do this to her? Knowing everything she’d been through?

She ran. She didn’t care if he saw her, she just ran.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Silas watching.

When she got home, she deadbolted the door, collapsing against it. Her chest heaved. Everything hurt. Everything was awful. Ezra was her creepy secret admirer.

Hours passed by. Ellie sat there, thinking. Thinking about the cold tile under her thighs, about the sound of Chestnut knocking things down upstairs, probably in Nick’s room. Ellie couldn’t bring herself to care. It was a long time before she had the strength to get up.

Since when was this house so creepy?

Ellie crept toward her room, her safe haven, every step felt like it took years. Every creak startled her, every whoosh of the wind made her heart race. But Ellie knew she was safer if she could see the windows to the front of the house.

She had to confront him.

And she had an opportunity.

She saw a figure approaching her door once the sun had set and it was dark. Tall, dressed in all black, a hoodie covering his face and hair. He carried a medium sized box, atop it laid a letter, hearts drawn on it. Bingo.

Ellie, with shaky hands, resolved to run downstairs and catch him in the act of setting down that box.

She grabbed the door and slammed it open, startling the figure.

The figure who wasn’t Ezra.

The figure who was Silas.

“Ellie?!” The boy screeched. She’d never heard his voice.

“Silas?! You’re my stalker?!” An indescribable look crossed his face. Shock, maybe.

“I’m not a stalker. I’m a secret admirer.”

“A secret admirer who follows me and tells me what to do. How do you even know where I live?” Ellie demanded. Red hot anger, burning guilt, flashes of fear, everything was coursing through her body and pumping through her veins.

“Guess.”

“You… followed me home?” Ellie felt cold.

“Good job, Eloise.”

“How do you know my real name?”

“Your little friend calls you that name all the time, don’t you remember? I’m not an idiot.” Silas scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Well I don’t know who you are, I don’t know you. Why are you so hung up on me, creep?”

“You don’t remember?” He asked. He looked hurt. Like a kicked puppy. Ellie felt disgust roll through her like an angry tide.

“Remember what?”

“You’re the only person at this school who’s ever talked to me, Eloise. You offered me a pencil when I was having a bad day. My mom had recently died, and no one bothered to look at me but you. I kept it ever since. That day I swore that you were the kindest person in this awful town and I had to have you. I’ve had a crush on you ever since. Don’t you see? We could be perfect together.”

“That doesn’t make any sense! A pencil isn’t a marriage proposal, we don’t know each other! Back off, leave me alone Silas.”

“Well then.” Silas paused. He reached toward his pocket, a strange gleam in his eyes. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

Before Ellie could comprehend what happened, she was doubled over in pain.

“What the?!” She shrieked. Blood poured from her shoulder. When she looked up she saw Silas holding a blade, a twisted smile on his face.

Ellie hardened her resolve. She knew what she had to do. She leapt at him, the pain making her movements weak and sloppy. She grabbed at the knife, and she succeeded, somewhat.

But she’d grabbed the blade.

Scarlet poured from her fingers. She couldn’t tell where she’d been cut. She just knew it felt awful.

She lunged, he lunged. He stabbed, she dodged. Everything was a blur until she met his hand on the handle. Instantly, the second went to support the first, yanking it toward her. She managed to take it, stabbing his stomach.

Silas released a primal, ugly howl. Ellie grimaced as she stabbed again. He fell.

She didn’t know if he was dead or unconscious.

Ellie’s wounds seared in pain. She needed to treat them. But first, some morbid curiosity drove her to the box on her doorstep. She crawled toward it. A bloody knife sliced through tape.

Her hands quivered as she opened it, slowly. Lifting the lid of the box, she searched in the dark for the contents. She grabbed it. Heavy. Lifted it. Heavy. Looked at it in the light of a distant streetlamp.

She dropped it.

A familiar head rolled down her driveway.

A scream echoed through the night.

[just-gonna-write]

Branwen (a short story)

this is the short story i wrote in class that inspired the play Branwen! the assignment was to write a tragedy, so i wanted to write a main character who was right, but her stubbornness and pride lead to her downfall. a lot of aspects get changed in the play version, but this is the original story :)

The full moon was shining in the sky, putting a harsh, cold light on the earth. Owls hooted from within the dark branches of trees that had just begun to shed their leaves. It was a perfect night for a witch to be lurking in the woods.

While the townspeople of Sanwilken were fast asleep, Branwen Bobbit had important things to do while the moon was still high in the sky. She walked the unpaved trail with practiced ease, dodging sharp tree branches, dangling spanish moss and glistening spiderwebs that blocked her path. Finally she arrived at the picturesque clearing, trees framing it in a perfect, almost unnatural, circle. It gave her a perfect view of the silver moon, casting its light on her and the basket she brought of all the materials she would need.

She sighed, extending her arms into the sky and closing her eyes. Her face was serene, like a cat sunbathing in an open window. An involuntary smile tugged at her lips.

“I’m back,” she whispered to the air around her. “Did you miss me?” A silent yes was spoken by the wind in the way it caressed her cheek. I missed you deeply, my dearest child.

“I know, but I am back now for the full moon. I must get to work, stay calm in this area for a little while. I have candles I would like to keep aflame and upright.”

She set to work, first laying out a green lace tablecloth on the bare dirt, a patch that hadn’t had grass growing in years. She lit candles of white, green, and brown atop ornate little candle dishes painted with pentacles. She drew runes in the dirt with her athame, a dainty red little dagger that was used for rituals.

Are you sure about this, my child?

“Why wouldn’t I be sure, friend?” She spoke a bit louder than before, her clear voice venturing above a whisper. She had laid everything perfectly in place and the air was charged with magical energy, it was time to utilize it.

The kind of spell you’re planning to do is loud, it will bring attention to you.

“Why do you think I came to the woods to do it? I know it’ll be loud, but I promise it will be fine. Nothing bad will happen,”

That is dangerous, young one. People will hear you and know there is a witch among them.

“Let them find out, it’s ridiculous I have to hide anyway! I’ve never done anything wrong or cruel, I didn’t make a deal with the devil, all I’ve ever done is use the gift I was born with to help other people! If they don’t want my help they can kill me!”

Those are bold words, Branwen. It would be a shame to see you buried so young. If you were to use some tact, you could perhaps usher in peace between humanity and witches such as yourself, but to frighten them is a horrible way of going about it.

“I don’t care what you think, wind. I will do this my own way. I will bring peace and understanding to Sanwilken and I will do it as loudly and abrasively as I so desire! There is nothing wrong with witchery, and I’m tired of people saying there is! My existence is not a sin, it is not a curse, and it is nothing to be ashamed of,” Despite the wind’s protests, she lit the candles. They burned hot and bright with her anger, their flames as tall as the candles themselves.

In the center of the circle Branwen stood, arms extended toward the moon, drawing its power to use as her own. She let her head fall back completely, silky black and purple hair tickling her back. She furrowed her brows, her thoughts racing with all she wanted to manifest this month. Good harvest, peace, financial prosperity, it all raced until she couldn’t catch a single thought in her head. Her arms began to tremble, her knees knocked each other, but nothing could break her focus.

BOOM!

The sound exploded through the air, sending Branwen stumbling backward. Her head felt like it was full of lead, but in her foggy daze she could see that all her flames had been extinguished and had left behind thin lines of deep gray smoke, billowing up into the air.

She did it. Before she could celebrate her victory, she heard panicked voices far away.

“What on Earth was that?”

“We have to find out, what if it’s dangerous?!”

She jolted, going into a tizzy trying to collect everything she could. All she was able to grab in time was her basket and athame, everything else laid discarded at the scene as she fled back to the safety of her home.

“Branwen? Bran? Brannie? C’mon, wake up Bran,” She felt her body being shaken by two strong hands. She blinked away the exhaustion from her crystalline blue eyes, fixing them on a dark face in front of her. After a moment of confusion, she identified the face of her dear friend and roommate, Veronica Wiggs.

“Five more minutes,” Branwen grumbled pathetically, only to begin a coughing fit the moment the words left her mouth. Her throat felt as if she’d swallowed thorny cotton.

Her friend rushed to the other side of the bed, using one hand to feel her forehead for a fever, the second to grab a white mug with a little cartoon sun on it.

“I made you some tea, how are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” Branwen growled, sitting up to take the tea.

“You look like it. Was it maybe because you got caught performing a spell last night?” Veronica’s warm face shifted to a hard one, anger laced in every crevice.

“I did not get caught, no one knew it was me.”

“Yeah, well while you were getting your beauty sleep the entire town has been talking about it. People are scared, Branwen, that was really irresponsible to do.”

“It was not irresponsible of me! You don’t have any faith in me, do you?” Instead of a verbal answer, Branwen received a pointed look from her roommate. “It’s not my fault things exploded! I put a little too much energy into it, that’s all. It’ll all blow over in a week.”

“No. No it won’t. Search parties are assembling to find out who the witch is, I heard people are even going door to door.” The urgency in Veronica’s voice almost alarmed Branwen, but she shrugged it off. No one would suspect her of all people to be a witch.

“I’m not taking this right now, get out, I need to get dressed. Thanks for the tea.” She said dismissively, turning away to head towards her walk-in closet.

“We’re talking about this later. You go out and hear it for yourself, people are practically rioting. And I want to hear a very sincere apology when you realize how grave the danger you’re in is.” Veronica spoke slowly, from the deepest parts of her chest. If you listened closely you could hear the way her voice trembled and her lip wobbled as her eyes became glassy with anxious tears.

“Whatever you say Ronnie.”

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and to the outside eye it would seem like a lovely day. All sorts of people roamed the streets, from well-dressed businesspeople to sleepy teens in sweatpants. When you zoomed in on the idealistic picture however, you would hear the whispers of those people buzzing in the air. The same topic was on everyone’s lips.

There was a witch in town.

“Good morning Branwen, how are you this morning?” A teenaged girl dressed in her grocery store uniform chirped as she began scanning her items.

“Good. How are you?” Branwen responded. Her black hair, streaked with different shades of purple, from lavender to plum, was neatly curled into loose waves by her shoulders. She wore a long purple skirt that flowed when she walked, covered white and black lines that created dainty floral patterns. Her top was lacy and black, cropped at her stomach with lovely bell-sleeves, paired with velvet black heeled boots. She looked perfectly put together, and perfectly fashionable. Nobody could see the storm brewing underneath the pretty exterior, like a fizzing soda ready to explode all over your hands.

“I’m good, have you heard there’s a witch on the loose?” The younger girl asked with a smile.

“What kind of silly gossip is that?” Branwen asked, her breath catching in her throat. Was it possible that Veronica was right?

“No, it’s true! They found her whole setup for this weird ritual clearing in the woods. My friend sent me photos, it’s really creepy. Candles everywhere, tons of pentagrams, symbols drawn in the dirt. Cash or card?”

“Card. But I’m sure it’s not that bad. I don’t think witches are inherently evil,” Branwen said calmly, training her eyes intently on the card reader.

“They’re the devil’s spawn!” The cashier blurted, looking aghast, her hand pressed on her heart as if it would leap out from her ribcage.

“They’re just people,” Branwen scoffed, grabbing her bags.

“Miss Bobbit, you’re gonna ruin your good reputation if you keep talking like that. Witches are awful creatures. They only exist because the devil got his evil hands on easily corrupted people. I respect you a lot, don’t go interfering with witches,” The girl’s anger blazed in her eyes, but she shook her head and calmed herself. “Have a nice day ma’am, God be with you!”

Branwen looked down at the ground, her heart pounding in her ears. Could it be true? Could the town be ready to turn against her if she said so much as said a word defending her own kind? What kind of world was she living in?

“Death to all witches! Death to all witches!” A voice rang out. Branwen looked up, eyes wider than the moon. The beautiful town square, decorated with lush greenery surrounded by old fashioned brick buildings, was currently occupying a large crowd of people holding poster-board signs reading all sorts of heinous phrases. Death to all witches! Burn in hell! The Devil is in Georgia! Protect children, banish the witch! Burn her!

Bubbles of anger and fear rose in Branwen’s chest, threatening to burst through her throat and suffocate her. Her entire body felt hot and weak, like she would melt at any moment. Tears flooded her eyes, and in that moment she knew what she had to do. Straightening, she walked to the crowd as any human citizen would. She tapped someone on the shoulder, some middle aged woman she saw in the store with her children sometimes. The woman’s pale, unruly hair framed her face, which was twisted into an angry frown.

“Excuse me ma’am, what’s going on here?” She asked politely as she forced deep, even breaths. The woman looked startled for a moment, but her aging face settled into one of polite sympathy.

“Haven’t you heard, there’s a witch in town! We want to have her removed for the safety of our children,” She explained before turning back to the main speaker. A younger man, maybe around his mid-twenties. He held a megaphone and chanted into it, rallying the crowd that had gathered before him.

“Death to all witches! Death to all witches! This woman, whoever she is, is a threat to our children and our lives! Who knows what she could do, or has already done? Have any of our coincidental misfortunes ever been coincidences, or were they all planned by her? Wake up and take action. The police need to search every house in this town, they cannot rest until they find the witch! Nobody is safe in Sanwilken until every last witch is dead! Who’s with me?!” The crowd screamed and cheered, like drums battering Branwen’s ears.

All she wanted to do was protest, cry out that they were all wrong. The words were on the tip of her tongue, begging to be let out. Why would she be evil? What would she gain by hurting her beloved town? Why would any witch want to harm them? All she wanted was for Sanwilken to prosper. Month after month, year after year, she spent her full moons bringing about good fortune.

She stood, statuesque, for a moment. Deep down, it was a horrible idea. She’d die on the spot, no one would allow her to live until suppertime if they knew who she was, what she was.

Branwen, in the end, made the decision to turn heel and leave without a word, briskly pacing her way back home.

Breathe, my child. Breathe.

The familiar voice of the wind whispered to Branwen. She looked around wildly, her breath accelerating.

Shhh, my dearest, it is just me. Go home, you need to go home now. Stay safe now, I beg of you.

She looked at the sky for a moment, as if for reassurance. She nodded. Branwen needed to go home, she could feel it. Something bad was going to happen.

When she got home, Branwen saw an exemplary scene of serenity. Monarch butterflies resting on the flowers, the sun shining warmly on the house. It gave her a moment of peace, before she glanced toward the kitchen window and noticed Veronica pacing the floor.

Feeling her stomach drop, Branwen put on a phony smile and opened the door. When she reached the kitchen, setting the grocery bags on the counter, Veronica’s head snapped toward her.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

“Out getting groceries, why?” She asked carefully, grabbing some of the cold food to put in the fridge. Behind Branwen’s back, she could hear Veronica’s loud sigh.

“Is your safety never a concern for you? Do you not have a will to live?” Veronica demanded.

“I told you, it’s all going to blow over.”

“No it’s not! You can’t stay in denial any longer! You’re going to die if you don’t get your act together, Bobbit! Do you think I want to watch you die?”

“No need to be so dramatic, Ronnie,” Branwen chastised. She turned back, only to see Veronica hovering over her with more rage than she’d ever seen in her life.

“Dramatic? Dramatic!? Am I the only person with a brain in this house?!”

“Quit being so condescending. Nobody would ever suspect me of all people to be a witch. Besides, it’s so ridiculous having to hide so much anyway! Do you think I’m happy about having hidden who I am since I was four?!” Branwen retorted, raising her voice.

“I agree, it is ridiculous! But if you wanna survive, you can’t just play by your own stupid rules! People have been searching every house in this neighborhood, and this house is full of things that will pin one of us as a witch. And they’ll figure out it’s you pretty quickly once they find the stash of old potion bottles in your room. Go hide your things if you want any chance of living until tomorrow,”

“No! I will never, ever hide who I am in my own HOME! This isn't fair, I can’t do it! I am a witch and I am proud!”

“I DON’T CARE THAT YOU’RE PROUD, I CARE THAT YOU’RE ALIVE!” Veronica screamed, tears welling up in her deep brown eyes.

“I WOULD RATHER BE DEAD THAN HIDE A MINUTE LONGER!” Branwen hollered back. Tears started to cloud her vision, blurring everything to simple blobs of color.

Knock. Knock.

“That’s them. Go. Hide. Be a witch any other day of the week, but today I need you to be alive. That’s all I want, okay?” Veronica pleaded.

“I’m going for a walk,” Branwen declared with a glare, stalking out the backdoor. There was silence for a moment, then footsteps.

“Hi everyone, yes, you may come in. I’m sorry it’s so messy.”

The sun dappled the forest floor with warmth, streaming in through the trees overhead. Branwen was perched on a boulder she’d found, surrounded by moss and bushes. The air was clear and quiet, and she felt her shoulders slumping forward.

“What have I done?” She whispered, holding her head in her hands. “This is terrible. I’m going to die, the deed is done.”

I’m sorry, Branwen.

“Wind? Is that you?”

Yes, my child, it is just me. I wish I could have done more to protect you.

“No, it’s not your fault at all. I messed up, I messed up really bad. God, why am I so stubborn? Why couldn’t I just accept that I have to hide, that’s just the way things are.”

But you were right, it shouldn’t be. Humans fear what they do not understand, and they never tried to understand you.

“I can’t blame them, someone with magic powers does sound kinda scary.”

May I give you some advice, my child?

“Of course, I’ll do my best to listen, I promise.”

Hold your head high. Do not let them see that you’re frightened, or that they’ve hurt you. You are a very strong soul, and I believe you can do it. Go out with courage. If there’s anything I know you can do, it’s that.

“I will, for you. I’ll embrace death. At least then, I don’t have to hide anymore.”

Good. Thank you, dear friend, for keeping me company.

“Of course wind, thank you.” Branwen nodded, steeling her nerves. Her head knew what she had to do, if only someone could teach this bravery to her poor heart.

“Branwen Bobbit?” She whipped her head up. Her executioners, they were here. “Please come with us.”

It was a somber scene in Sanwilken, Georgia, that night. The sun had begun to set, and in front of the brilliant golden sky, stood the silhouette of a woman, and the noose that would kill her. Without so much as a trial, Branwen Bobbit had been sentenced to execution by hanging. She held her head high, her stony face unreadable to the large crowd before her. People were sprawled around the lush green ground on picnic blankets. After all, it was dinnertime.

The woman, the witch, the dead girl walking, looked around at the crowd. Toward the very back, she caught the gaze of a teary, horrified woman all on her own. Veronica. She was dressed head to toe in black, layers and layers of it despite the hot sun still beating on everyone. Her inky parasol cast shadows on her face, leaving only her mouth and chin visible, but anyone could see the tear-tracks that glistened in the golden sun. She mouthed “I’m sorry,”.

Too late.

“People of Georgia, today we witness the execution of Branwen Bobbit, for charges of witchcraft and consorting with the devil. Any last words, Bobbit?”

Branwen took a deep, shaky breath. She closed her cloudy blue eyes, feeling the pit grow in her stomach. Her voice came out faint, barely a whisper.

“I love you all.”

With that, she stepped onto the platform, where an executioner situated a scratchy rope around her throat. She fixed her eyes on the crying Veronica, willing her to keep it together, to carry on without her.

I’m so sorry, child.

The wind blew the hanging woman’s hair in front of her face, as if to shield her from the watchful eyes of the people below. The hill that was silent only moments before, anticipation hanging like a thick fog in the air, erupted in raucous cheers and laughter. Few stayed silent to mourn their all dear friend, wallowing in what, to most, was a joyous scene.

“YOU MONSTERS!” A rough voice rang out from the back. “YOU MONSTERS! YOU MONSTERS! YOU HORRIBLE MONSTERS!” The shrieking shocked the crowd to silence, as people turned to the grieving woman. Veronica Wiggs. She stormed up to the stand where the body of her dearest friend hung in the air.

Veronica choked on her sobs, feeling her throat closing in on itself. Her chest felt like it was a black hole, the horrible emptiness growing by the moment until it drowned her.

“YOU DISGUSTING CREATURES. SHE LOVED YOU. SHE LOVED YOU ALL. SHE DID NOTHING BUT WORK FOR THE GOOD OF THIS HORRID TOWN. EVERY SPELL, EVERY RITUAL, EVERYTHING SHE DID WAS TO BRING US PROSPERITY, AND WHAT DID YOU DO? PUT HER IN AN EARLY GRAVE.

BRANWEN WAS THE KINDEST PERSON I KNEW. SURE, SHE WAS A WITCH, BUT TO BE A WITCH IS NO CRIME OR SIN, IT HAS NO MARK ON YOUR CHARACTER. LOOK THROUGH HER STUFF, LOOK AT HER BOOKS. THERE IS NOTHING ON HOW TO BRING HARM. ALL SHE WANTED WAS FOR THE PEOPLE AROUND HER TO BE HAPPY. BUT SHE WAS SO TIRED OF HIDING, THAT SHE WAS WILLING TO DIE SO SHE COULD HAVE ONE MOMENT OF LIVING AUTHENTICALLY. I WISH YOU ALL NOTHING BUT THE WORST!” Veronica wailed. Her voice echoed through the hills, as if the grass and the wind itself were crying alongside her. Her entire body visibly shook, and with every new sentence her voice cracked. She looked like a scared little girl.

Something about her agony and the words she screamed struck a chord within the people of the town. Perhaps she was right, perhaps witches were nothing but people with a beautiful gift.

But if that were the case, they had committed a horrible atrocity, hadn’t they? Watching an innocent girl executed, ignoring her plight in favor of watching, eating picnics at the death place of a kind person? If that was the case, they watched an innocent life be taken and looked on with glee.

And nothing could be worse than watching a horrible thing happen whilst doing nothing to stop it, could it?

Branwen’s books were buried with her in the clearing she had used on the night that brought on her fate. And soon, Veronica would be buried right next to her. No one may be righteous and loud without paying the price.

After all, who would tell the tale of the kind witch who was wrongfully murdered, if no one was alive to do it?

#writing #short story #author #witch #witchcraft #story about witches #dark #hanging #public execution #death

[just-gonna-write]

this is a short story i wrote for class :) the assignment was to write a historical fiction piece, so this takes place in a fictional cult in the late 60’s :)

“Hello gorgeous, I am digging your outfit today! Come inside, I insist!” My smile is bright, dancing on my pink glossy lips as I practically shriek out my greeting.

“Hey! Thank you so much, I have been dying for that homemade lemonade you make.” Janice Hartt laughed, side-stepping me into my house. It’s warm and soft, with orange and rust colors everywhere you look. She beelines to my conversation pit, plopping on my pristine white couch.

“I’ll grab you something to drink then, could I interest you in any snacks too? I’ve got olives and cheese!” I giggled while fluffing my ginger hair. It was long and shiny, perfectly coiffed every day, and just the right amount of volume to frame my face. I knew I was just about the prettiest girl in town, and I knew everyone else did too.

“That would be fabulous. And after that, I have something I wanna talk to you about.” She said shyly. Her smile was bright, but the way she twirled her short, dark hair around her finger gave away nerves. Bingo.

“Ooh, I’m intrigued. I’ll be right back with those refreshments, you just hang out here until I’m back.” I told her playfully. I turned my back on her and let out the tiny, genuine smile that was making its way to my lips. I was surely in, I had the perfect opportunity to get in her mind. All I needed to do was have a little girl talk and I would be golden. Father Robert would be so pleased.

I rushed into the kitchen, heels clicking and clacking under me. The floors were hardwood, golden brown, the kind that accentuated any little sound that was made in the house. The rhythmic noise filled my ears, and for a moment I was more focused on that than the matter at hand. Get it together Virginia, focus is necessary in a game like this. Even Janice of all people could catch onto your scheme if you aren’t careful. I replayed the thought over and over as I arranged the cheese and olives onto little skewers, and poured the pungent lemonade that filled the room with the sour scent of freshly squeezed lemons.

When I lifted my head I caught my reflection in the mirror. Long ginger hair, big blue eyes, yellow eyeshadow underneath the black line on the lid, making my eyes look even bigger and more innocent. A perfectly practiced smile played on my lips, showing off my pearly white teeth. It was no wonder I was chosen by Father Robert to bring people into our organization, who wouldn’t listen to a face like this? All I had to do was twirl my hair around my finger, wink and smile and anyone who laid eyes on me would turn to mush. And nobody thought rationally when they were mush.

I shook my head and straightened up, grabbing my tray. Four skewers, two glasses of lemonade. Perfect. Hurriedly I grabbed my tray and used my back to open the kitchen door that led to the living room.

“Sorry I took so long, these things were a real pest to get on these sticks.” I giggled. I was always giggling.

“Don’t worry about it! First off, how are you? Met any boys yet?” Janice asked playfully, grabbing a skewer to grab off a piece of cheese and pop it in her mouth. Her lipstick was dark, a hair too dark for her skin tone. It didn’t suit her.

“Things are good, and no I haven’t met anyone. You know me, I just cannot stand the thought of settling down with some mediocre man. But anyway, there has to be a reason why you dropped by, tell me!”

“Oh it's nothing, I just have some things on my mind. It’s all good, I just needed a distraction before I did anything drastic.” She laughed.

Janice was older than I was, probably in her early thirties. Her hair was cropped short, not unlike Twiggy’s, though certainly a little longer than hers. She wore a white button up under a powder blue suit jacket and matching pencil skirt. It looked frumpy. Her makeup was light and simple, and it didn’t do much for her features. I got the feeling she would be pretty if she tried, if her clothes fit and her makeup was nice. But as she was, all I could describe her as was plain. She had a husband who was just as plain as she was (I never knew how a boring person like her managed to get married), and two little boys. As one might guess, they were just as interesting as their parents.

“What do you mean, drastic?” I asked lightly. I could tell this was my moment, my opening to convince her to abandon the life she knew and tell her the way life should really be.

“It’s just… Well Bobby’s been a little distant lately, and you know the kids are always stressing me out, things are just kinda crazy.” She said slowly, looking down at her hands. There was a light pink polish on her nails, the prettiest thing about her.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“I want to run away.” She blurted out. Her eyes widened and she slapped her hand over her mouth, her entire body jolting as she realized what she said. She glanced at me, then at the ground, then back at me. “I want to run away. I want to get out and leave everything and everyone behind. I wanna be free.” Tears welled up in her eyes, the red color from her tears accentuating her green eyes. I’d never noticed she had green eyes.

“Woah.” I said, matching her posture. Stiff, anxious, knee bouncing like a basketball. “As much of a shock this is, I don’t think I really blame you.”

Janice’s entire body went rigid. “Really?” She asked. She looked pitiful.

“Really. Honestly I think Bobby is holding you back. Think of the great life you could lead if you just left him! You could have more time with friends, some time to really explore yourself and who you want to be. You don’t need a bummer of a husband or two kids that hold you in place! You’re meant to soar, Janice, and yet your feet have never gotten to leave the ground.” I told her, grabbing her hands to get her attention. Her teary eyes looked into mine and after a moment she smiled.

“Thank you, Virginia, I’m so glad you don’t think I’m crazy.” A sigh of relief blew through her body like a gust of wind, and I let my smile shine through.

“I could never think you’re crazy. In fact, I think I have a way for you to get out.”

I described Father Robert and the work he does for people like her, who feel alone. She could have a community of amazing people who she lives with, allow her love to be free and unrestrained by the confines of marriage, and finally find peace.

Within moments, she was hooked. I got one.

“Good job with our newest member, Virginia Bonnie Jones.” Myself and Father Robert were in his office. It was warm, a little too warm, and decorated very cozily, with vinyls lined on the walls and pictures covering his desk. I didn’t know who most of those faces belonged to, they were foreign. Like a language you can’t speak, glimpses of the familiar amongst a sea of the intimidatingly unknown.

“You can just call me Virginia, Father.” I spoke smoothly. I knew my charms hardly worked on him, but I was always hoping I could get him to slip up. I could hear the sound of my teeth grinding against each other, a faint but ugly sound. I felt like every muscle in my body was frozen, every movement meticulously planned. Father shot me an icy look that sent shivers down my spine.

“As I was saying, Bonnie, congratulations on the new recruit. You have become our top recruiter, guiding people to the light, and for that I appreciate you. However,” I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes at the graying man’s grumbly criticism that was surely coming. “I see you are still not quite on the path to the Light yourself.”

“What do you mean by that? I’m only here because I believe in the cause, how am I not on the path to the Light?” I protested coolly. My hand twitched to mess with my long hair, but I thought better of it.

“The Light only accepts people who have let go of their mortal possession and pride, Bonnie. In order to be able to graduate to the Great Beyond with the rest of us, you must give up your vanity. Being a mirror warmer won’t get you far, Virginia. Stylish clothes and nice hair will only get you left behind. I’m saying this because I like you, and neither of us want the Light to reject you do we? Next time I see you I want it to be burning those silly clothes. You look like a crayon.” The man scolded. His deep, dark eyes, like a black hole, and entrancing abyss, pulled me in. I almost couldn’t hear a word he said. It felt like my mind was full of clouds and smoke, and no matter how much I wanted a breath of fresh air, all I got was the hot sting of smoke in my throat. I closed my eyes and shook my head, shook out the thin tendrils of smoky gray that threatened to pull me under.

“With all due respect, Father, the way I dress is important to my recruiting, and to me. How am I supposed to get people’s respect and earn their trust if I can’t even wear matching clothes? People trust who they find appealing, so me looking this way is spreading the message that we’re trying to spread. Isn’t our goal to get more people to follow the Light so they can be saved? Isn’t me dressing like this better for the greater good in the long run?” My voice remained strong and sturdy, not a single waver as I spoke. I knew I was right, I wholly believed I was right.

There was a long moment of silence. It was thick. Palpable.

“Bonnie, we’re friends. I’m saying this for your own good. Change how you dress. No more mini skirts, no more heels, no more bright colors or patterns, no more fashion. Do I make myself clear?”

“But why-”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“...Yes Father.”

Before I knew it I was outside the wooden door, my back to it, so close I was almost brushing against it. My mind reeled, my body felt heavy, my breathing was quick and heavy. Talking to Father always had that effect. I didn’t know what it was about him that was so unsettling. Was it those deep, dark eyes that were almost soulless? Was it the way he smelled heavily of tobacco and musk? Was it maybe the way his deep voice always made him seem so sure of himself, almost condescending? I couldn’t tell. Maybe it was the conversation of all three.

“Virginia? Hey, I haven’t seen you in ages! How are you sweetheart?” I looked up from the grayish-green colored carpet, a color that reminded me of nausea, only to see a sight for sore eyes, clad in a long gray coat that looked like a dress, with large tortoiseshell buttons and a faint houndstooth pattern. Gloria Meyers, my dearest friend since we were small. The most beautiful and put-together woman I knew, who happened to be Father’s right-hand-woman and a full-time member of the community. She lived here full time, unlike me.

“Hi Gloria, I’m great. Just got out of a meeting with the boss.” I told her breathlessly. She shot me a sympathetic smile. She knew I never got along with that man.

“You can tell me all about it at evening meal-time. I’m almost late for a meeting with him, and you know I’d probably die if I were late for anything.” She laughed humorlessly. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Of course Glores, I’ll see you. I’ll stick around for evening meal-time just for you.” I told her softly, side-stepping to give her room.

Father had probably heard the conversation, but I was too drained to care. I needed to sit down.

Seats and couches in every shade of brown and beige known to man lined the long hallway that isolated Father’s office from the rest of the facility. A huge, homey mansion. I never knew how a man so opposed to frivolity and money as a construct had acquired such a big house, but I didn’t ever bother to question it. Father Robert was the kind of man who just made things happen. This communal mansion, my “recruiter house” that I got to live in and bring new members to, (after all, how else would I earn their trust?) All of it was part of the package.

I was sprawled on a cozy, worn in beige couch that some of our members had found on the side of a road. It used to be infested with mites and torn all apart, but it had been fixed years ago. It still carried the scars and age, thin little seams like wrinkles decorating a wizened human face.

“What are you doing, Virginia?” A feminine voice asked me. When I glanced over I realized I knew her, I had recruited her about a year ago. Pretty, only 16 years old. It was a shame since a pretty young girl had wasted her beauty to dress in gray potato sacks and horrifically sensible shoes.

I hated sensible shoes.

“I’m just resting my mind until dinner, you?” I asked politely. My mind raced and fumbled to find a name that matched the face. Clara? Cassidy maybe? Or was it Cierra?

“I wanted to ask the boss a question. It’s about the Great Ascension, I had some minor questions.” She answered with a smile, a warm one. A little bit of anxiety danced in her twitchy fingers and tapping toes. I stopped scanning her when her words hit my mind, and I had to look back up at her face.

“The Great Ascension?”

“Oh, were you gone when Father Robert came up with it? I should’ve known you’d be confused. He’s planning for all of us who are worthy to ascend to the Light tomorrow! I’m so excited, I can’t wait for my salvation. Just being free from this mortal coil and finally getting to feel the Light’s love, it will be so wonderful.” Her grin was wide, showing off her slightly crooked pearly whites.

I felt like my lungs had collapsed in my ribcage, leaving an empty, gaping hole. A black hole, sucking all the blood from my veins. For a moment, a very long moment, my heart stopped. I almost thought this was what dying was like. Pain ached and buzzed and tingled in every inch of skin, like ugly little bugs crawling throughout my being.

“What? So soon? But we’re not done spreading the good word of the Light, we’re not ready yet.” I gasped. I sounded like a croaking little toad. The girl’s smile almost faltered, the left corner of her lips twitched down for a moment. I almost missed it.

“Don’t worry! Father Robert is planning to stay behind and move on to educate more people! He said he just knows that we are ready for salvation, he believes in us. We’re ready for this!” She tried to cheer me up, placing a hand on my shoulder. The gesture felt empty, almost unkind. I shoved her hand off of me, and forgetting the lead that weighed my bones down, I got up and marched to the heavy wooden door in front of me.

No knock, no waiting, I just grabbed the cold metal handle and yanked it open. Two pairs of eyes turned to me. One dark and cruel, one kind and inquisitive.

“Virginia, what are you doing in here?”

“Why did I just hear we’re going to the Light tomorrow and I didn’t know about it?!” I demanded, almost screaming.

“Well we were going to tell you, we-”

“You aren’t going.”

“WHAT?!”

“I said you aren’t going.”

“I heard you, Robert, I want to know why. Why am I not coming?” It felt like the building was crumbling, dust that once bound the walls clogging my lungs, making me cough and retch and scream.

“You aren’t worthy. Bonnie, face it. You aren’t like us, you don’t fit in. You’re too vain and materialistic. I warned you many, many times that this would happen. You played with fire and you got burned. Simple.” The way a smirk tugged his chapped, grayish lips was sickening. The silence that followed was long and tense, me just staring at him. Why me? I did everything for this man, I did everything I ever could to ensure he could spread his message. I was one of the first people to join his Organization, I did all his dirty work, I even allowed him to look at me like a wolf looking at a slab of meat for years.

He had adored me until a year ago, when my dresses and skirts were tighter and shorter than he’d ever seen someone wear. He looked at me like unconquered territory. My legs were uncharted waters, my chest was a bountiful land of prosperity for him to conquer. But I never let him touch me. Even when he begged and pleaded and said it was only right I refused. So he created a rule against vanity, saying the Light had come to him and told him of my sinning. He’d despised me ever since.

“Father Robert.” Gloria’s stern voice brought me out of my panicked haze, and I glanced at her. Her eyes were fixed on the old man in front of her, a fire I’d never seen before burning in her eyes. “She has done nothing wrong. She is not vain and you know that, she’s simply smart. She’s the top recruiter we have in this Organization, so many people’s souls have been saved because of her. You have to allow her to Ascend with the rest of us.”

A small smile tugged at my lips. Gloria had never been one to stand up for herself. When we were on the playground as kids, she would be teased and bullied and I would be the one to fend the bullies off. In return, she would give me the extra snacks her mom always packed in her lunch. It was a good deal for both of us, and how our lifelong friendship bloomed. I was proud of her for how she’d grown up so much.

I turned my attention to Father Robert, the man in front of us. His face was unreadable, looking between the two of us slowly. Finally, his eyes settled on me.

“Fine, But I expect you to wear something more professional tomorrow for the ceremony.”

The ceremony was less grand than I had expected. My imagination had conjured up grand decorations everywhere, a banquet room looking like the epitome of class. Gold, sparkles, maybe a little confetti for fun.

I should’ve known that was nothing like what would actually happen.

In reality there were no decorations, just a normal banquet room with an array of blades lining tables at the front. Some were normal kitchen knives, plain and sturdy, others were more interesting, like delicate hand-carved daggers and heavy looking swords. I examined each one carefully until my eyes landed on a gorgeous dagger, maybe 5 inches long, with a shiny gold handle that had been carved to resemble the head of a bird. Instead of a beak, the bird had its blade. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.

“Everyone.” Father Robert’s voice boomed through the room before his gaze settled on me. “I would like to welcome you all to the first ever Ascension. It is my honor to guide you all to the light, as it was my honor to lead you in life. I hope that the afterlife will bring you all great joy.” The crowd erupted in cheers. I glanced around. No one looked even vaguely hesitant, all of them had thrown themselves into their joy.

“In order to Ascend, there is one final task you all must complete.” That got peoples’ attention, enough for a hush to fall over the crowd. “There are blades lined up here, these are going to be tools for your Ascension. Please, everybody pick one.” I immediately rushed for the beautiful golden dagger, and luckily I got it. It seemed to shine in the ugly fluorescent lights, the gold twinkling in my hands. I felt like I was hypnotized, just staring at it.

My concentration was broken when Father Robert began to speak again.

“Now, this process will be painful, but nothing without pain will bring reward.” He spoke slowly, carefully, his deep voice rattling through my bones. “I want you all to point your blades toward yourselves, pray for one last time, and stab yourselves. As many times as you must in order to die. The more blood you shed, the more beautiful your afterlife will be.” I should’ve been shocked, I should've shook and quivered in fear, screamed and begged to stay. I didn’t. Instead I followed instructions. Slowly, I pointed the shining blade at myself.

Light, please take me into your arms, guide me on my Ascension to the ranks of the Enlightened Ones. Please bring me the honor of peace in the Afterlife. Thank you.

Then, without a second thought, I plunged the blade into my flesh.

Pain. Pain was all I felt. Red hot. Burning my stomach. Everything felt wet. I heard a scream, but my throat was raw. Maybe it was mine. Maybe it wasn’t. Up was down and left was right. I looked down at my hands. I was alive.

I drew my knife again. Plunged it in again. I wasn’t dead. I needed to be dead to end this. Again. Again. Again.

As clouds filled my brain like bubble wrap in a box, muffling all my thoughts, all I could think was how striking a color combination gold and red was.

And then it was quiet.

Too quiet.

Where was the singing? The hugs, the warmth, the feeling of love bursting through you, almost ripping you to shreds? Where were the loved ones waiting on you, where were the Enlightened Ones ready to give you their wisdom, like a gift wrapped up with a neat little bow? Where was the joy?

All I felt was emptiness. Cold. If I still had my body, it would’ve shivered. That body was gone. And so was I.

Where was I?

There was nothing but darkness for as far as the soul could see.

I knew why there was nothingness, but I didn’t want to admit it.

Had we been lied to? Had Father Robert just made up all this beauty and warmth? Had he led us to believe that there was some wonderful afterlife, to bring us peace with death.

Had I, by association, been a liar too? Brought innocent people to their deaths when they had full lives to live? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t. I believed. I thought I was doing a good thing. I thought the methods were dodgy, sure, but the message was true.

It wasn’t.

I led hundreds of people to their deaths, like a shepherd herding his sheep to the slaughterhouse. This was all my fault. I did that to people, and it was my fault.

And now, that was all I had to think about for the rest of eternity.

[just-gonna-write]

if i posted the first draft of branwen, would people want to read it? i would post each scene one at a time so any given post wouldn’t be too long

keep in mind, it’s a first draft! it needs to be lengthened, and the characters are a little fuzzy as of right now bc i didn’t do tons of planning before i began writing

#writing #playwriting #teenage playwright #new play #new script #script writing #developing a play

[just-gonna-write]

i finished writing the first draft of my play!

as of right now it’s called branwen, and it’s about a witch named branwen bobbit living in a world that hates witches. one night, a ritual she’s doing goes wrong and everyone in town finds out there’s a witch, and sets out to kill her. it’s about branwen’s struggles to act for herself or for other people, and sticking to her morals vs self salvation.

i’m going to edit soon and begin the second draft, so please stay tuned! id love if people followed this process with me. if you’d like to watch this story evolve over time, feel free to follow me :)

#writing #playwriting #teenage playwright #teen writer #teen author

[just-gonna-write]

i’m currently writing a play. it’s based on a short story i wrote for class, but expanding on it and making it longer. if i were to post the original short story, or the play so far, would anyone be interested in reading?

#reading #writing #author #authors of tumblr #author of tumblr #teenage author #playwriting #playwright #playwrights of tumblr #teenage playwright #theatre #theater #witchcraft #play about witches #drama #dramatic writing #input wanted #critique wanted

[just-gonna-write]

Tis the dead of night

That silver plated-sky

Crowned in violet

It settles high,

High above

When the whole world sleeps

When the grass sings

In the gentle breeze

The loving whoosh

Of wind through leaves

Above the ground.

The world smells crisp

A cold autumn night

When the air nips and bites

Like puppies at play

The silver coin

With its gentle glow

Gives light to the world

Harsh, cold light

Illuminating that hole in your chest,

The pounding, pounding, pounding of your heart

If it is peaceful,

Why do you hear that rustle? Just the wind, dearest

There is peace,

The world is quiet

The silence feels like a hug Holding you tight to its chest

Like a mother comforting a frightened child

Like a lover coming home after a long day

An embrace

The shadows hold you

They watch you too

Their intent is unknown

Their eyes void, nothing to look into Curtains of black greet you

But if you pull the curtains

Will the light of day flood your senses, Or will you find only blankness?

Go on now, find out

The dark is nothing to fear

#poetry #beginner poetry #writing #beginning writer #new author #new writer #beginner poet #young poet #moon #aesthetic #pretty #poem