Curse of Tolken | ONC 2022 | co-writer @sassy-weirdo

(1.2) El

Part II

I snuck my way to the laundry room across the hall, making sure I didn't run into Hilda. My new and relatively improved hair was a surprise meant for the two hour ride to London.

My parents were finally letting me know about my powers, but their contact was in the city. They had said that people without magic weren't allowed into the home of the confidant; so, instead of a family road trip, it was to be an Auntie Hilda and El appointment. Their plan told me two things. The confidant could do magic—if you could even call it that—just like me. And so could Hilda. Which was weird because I'd only known of two magic people in that house before then. Me, of course, and Kathlin, the Attic Witch. How did Hilda keep it secret for the twelve long years she was with us? Who knows? Hilda's her own person.

I dropped my clothes into the washer just under the staircase right next to the restroom and made my way to the "tiroir de drame" to place the hair supplies back in the drawer.

I walked down the hall, past the ruddy playing room I had played in when I was younger. Though it brought back beautiful childhood memories, I also hated looking at it due to the row of symbols that looked exactly like the one on the necklace my parents had left with me, etched onto the open door frame. I didn't remember carving them myself. Dad had told me that it had been the first sign of my powers in that house. It may have been fascinating to others, but to me, it was a reminder that my family had left me when I was just two years old. It haunted me in my childhood. Not the best feeling for a little girl to have.

Pushing those thoughts away, I walked away from the playing room and to Hilda's bedroom. I carefully walked in and went to her dresser. Just as I was laying the supplies down, I heard a loud, familiar voice yelling in her French accent, even though she most definitely was not French.

Auntie Hilda screamed so loud that the whole house could hear it. And maybe even the neighbours three miles away. 'I know you took them, boy! You're the only one who'd have the balls!'

And then Fabien's small, but defiant voice followed, 'I'd check again, old lady!'

'Young man, you do not speak to me that way!' By this time, I was heading out the room and towards the voices. 'You respect your elders, you hear me?'

I found them just doors away in Fabien's room. Surrounded by the pale colours adorning the wall, the two looked like tomatoes in a sea of chopped onions. They both always dressed with a colourful style, she with patterns and he with brightness. Right then, Hilda wore a leopard print dress, that was maybe a bit too showy, over red polka dotted leggings, which fit amazingly with her red-dyed hair. While Fabien sported a neon-orange athletic tank top with black baggy shorts.

Even though their age difference was a vast expanse— Hilda being six times his age, their similarities were closer than any other person I had ever met. Which was not that much, but, it counts for something, right?

Fabien was the first to notice me. 'Well, now, look who the real culprit is.'

Hilda froze and turned her head towards me with raised eyebrows. I countered her stare with a wink. 'I'd check again, Auntie.'

I left, but slow enough to hear her quiet herumph as she sighed and followed me outside. I walked faster, trying to get away from the woman, knowing she'd attempt to kill me with whatever magic she had when she got the chance. But, instead, when her hand reached for my shoulder, I heard an usher. 'Bens wants to see you now that he's back, and we're leaving soon so you should go talk to him.'

I nodded. 'In the attic?'

She concurred and pushed me back towards the stairs. I complied and made my way to the attic where Uncle Bens always went first when he arrived home from an "adventurous expedition" as he called them. Up the stairs I went. Five flights to be exact. Hence the nickname I gave to our house: the Tower. The stairs were thin, wooden and dusty as a result of no cleaning in years. That was how it was all around the house. But, I personally liked the uncleanliness of it. It gave character to the Tower that matched perfectly with its inhabitants—messy, chaotic and charming. My father, of course, thought differently. He always tried his best to clean, but inevitably gave up midway and left it for a month at a time, sometimes more. The Tower was a bitch to clean.

I was awakened from my rambling thoughts when I heard a clang. I had reached the metal stairs leading one flight up to the attic.

It was glowing.

I walked tentatively towards the door, knowing the worst must have been happening. Kathlin must be acting out again.

But, when I ventured closer, I heard more than two voices. The third did not belong to either of her parents and both Hilda and Fabien were downstairs and couldn't have passed me up without me noticing. Who was the owner of that mystery voice, then?

I didn't think about eavesdropping on their conversation, but there I was, sliding open the door hoping against hope that no one would notice. But they did and both Bens and Kathlin looked at me. A slim girl, maybe two or three years younger than me, with dusky skin and brown hair was standing behind them, before the giant mirror that had been in the Tower's attic for ages. Her dark eyes went wide when she saw me. Then they immediately grew with rage. In an angered, unfamiliar accent, she asked, 'Who is this?'

Her question was directed toward Bens. He eyed me and then Kathlin, who was shaking uncontrollably, with his concerned, sagging eyes. Honest to God, that man looked eighty-five instead of sixty-five, with his pale skin and droopy eyes.

'El, you need to leave,' Bens said, concern threading his gruff voice.

At that, the young girl started. She shifted in her weird, hooded leather... toga? Who the hell wears togas anymore? She straightened herself to her full height—not an impressive sight—and asked me directly, 'Who are you?'

Bens grabbed my arm, saying, 'El, now.'

He tried to drag me out, but I stood my ground, and turned to the girl. 'I think I should be the one asking that.'

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it not a second later, stumbling away, whispering to herself. It was odd, but I thought I saw something coming from her. It was like a breath slowly turning solid. It was like water vapour turning to ice, but never meeting its destination.

Before I could respond or even mentally digest what was going on, Kathlin attacked me. She jumped onto me, screaming bloody murder and trying to scratch my face.

'Get out, witch! Get out! I don't want you here! Tolken isn't safe!'

A bright blue light emitted from her skin and the water from the sink in the attic's bathroom spurted from its spout, heading straight for me. Until she lost control. Again. And it sank to the floor, turning to ice.

'Go away, witch!' she screamed while sinking off of me to the floor, completely miserable.

Bens wrapped one of his hulking arms around my shoulders and lightly pushed me towards the direction of the door.

'Time to go to London, El. Hilda's waiting.'

He slid the door closed, but before it was all the way shut, I caught a glimpse of Kathlin, who was having one of her bad days, which always consisted of the same six events: blaming me for something I didn't do, using her powers to try to kill me, losing control of her powers, talking incoherently, kneeling on the floor and crying.

A small pale hand patted her shoulder and Kathlin's cries grew louder. I didn't understand why until the hand flinched away, leaving behind a trail of bluish aura that connected it to Kathlin. Kathlin's coat was slowly covered with ice that was making its way to her pale white hands.

The aura-emitting hand belonged to the strange, new girl. I was powerless to stop her from freezing Kathlin as Uncle Bens carried me away.

***

• written by chaotic_naturx
• word count: 1432
• comment and constructively criticise!
• Well- that was an interesting ending, huh? Who is this mysterious girl? What's wrong with Kathlin?