𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐌𝐀𝐍..
Not all heroes get remembered and surely not all heroes have it all; this story is about the hero who was never where she was supposed to be. Wrong place, wrong time, life gets confusing until a...
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Home.
What an odd word, considering "house", "building", "cottage", "nest" and so many other words have already been invented to describe and name the places where beings reside alone, paired or in a family.
But to name a place a home gives to it what fear gives to a demon: power. Rather than associating the word by default to a house or an apartment, home is more of a state of existence which Wendy Weber was sure she had never experienced before the swarming waves of memories she woke up from settled like the sand underneath in a quieter sea.
Seas are never quiet for long.
From a mother's embrace, she was presented to the realness of her home and the clarity of the explanation Agatha started giving when the beginning of a question first begun rolling off of Wendy's lips. To do so, she was guided out of the small bedroom, opposite, on a narrow hallway, to an old door, which, locked with several heavy irons, looked out of reach and bizarrely out of place to the generous lights lit, to the tappets in faint flowers of lilac and all sorts of symbols too.
Agatha walked her out of the hallway and into the living room which was exactly how Wendy remembered it. Such a shocking discovery as that of seeing everything welcoming her drew weakness through Wendy's knees. She was starting to feel dizzy under the overwhelming feeling helping her heart beat faster and faster.
"... and you showed those Time Keepers who's in charge," Agatha's laugh went up a pitch in its start, then decreased to a mere chuckle, while she guided Wendy into the kitchen, brightly lighted and smelling of the cookies Wendy remembered she had a lot as a child. "As you should," Agatha turned around and leant against the middle island, hands grabbing the railing. Her violet nail polish shone in the sunlight and in her eyes glimmered a prune mischief.
It was there for only a second and there was nothing to think about it. "You're a witch like me, after all," she shrugged. To exemplify what exactly she meant by witch, Agatha waved her hands and from her fingertips, around her palms, glowed a light purple, whose magic twirled in circular motions and connected, almost transparently, her with a chair. She pulled the chair by a string of magic and directed it to swipe Wendy into it and put her at the table included in the island.
"Am I?" Wendy asked as soon as her palms planted on the table surface. She watched, curiously, how the magic thin lines returned to Agatha. "Is that how I opened the doors the Time Keepers locked? Or how I was able to stop time, absorb energy from the Multiverse or even open that ripple even without timing it on my watch-?" With each question and assumption, every single cloud of confusion was plucked out of her mind, destroyed entirely into morning dew falling over her thoughts and refreshing them under the new blue sky.
Agatha hid her little grimace by turning towards the fridge and playing her magic into opening its doors without her getting closer. A plate of ready sandwiches flew out and gently started placing itself on the table. The cupboards opened and glass joined a bottle of orange juice; once on the table before Wendy, it started pouring itself.
