witchy woman | george harrison

4. | Supernatural Thing

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After stepping as quietly as possible upstairs, Sloane's darkened bedroom greeted her.

The sweat and humidity that still clung to her was unbearable. Moving slowly, she drew a bath, lighting a single candle so she wouldn't have to turn on any lights.

Her jealousy of the boys creeped back into her mind. I wish I could play guitar like that. She sighed and fully submerged herself in the warm, rose-scented water.

She dried off with a fluffy, pink towel, wrapped herself in her favorite red bathrobe, and blew out the flame.

As she worked the towel into her hair, the door creaked open.

"Jesus!" Sloane cried, clutching her chest. There stood her nan, light pouring in through the hallway.

"Have you any idea what time it is?" Maude whispered sternly.

"What are you doing up?" Sloane fired back in a hushed tone.

Maude crossed her arms over her chest, looking a tad embarrassed. "Well, I was... you know..."

Sloane struggled not to laugh. Her nan sighed.

"I started organizing the hallway closet and got a little ahead of myself. You know how I am sometimes."

"I'm sorry, I forgot to put my watch on," Sloane explained, feeling guilty. "I'll be earlier next time."

Maude shook her head. "That's my fault. I rushed you out the door. I'm just glad you're getting out and having some fun."

Sloane smiled warmly. "Thanks, nan."

"Oh, I found a little something, used to belong to your granddad. Left it by your vanity in case you might want it," she winked. "It's never too late to start."

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Sure enough, when they both headed back to their respective rooms, Sloane found a dusty, leather case by her makeup table. She clicked the metal clasps open to find a wooden electric guitar, albeit a bit scratched up.

No, Sloane thought, an iciness creeping into her heart.

She'd never heard a word of her granddad playing guitar, and instruments were expensive. How did they afford this?

After lifting it out of its case she sat on the edge of her bed and gave it a strum, expecting a terrible sound. But it was perfectly in tune.

Curiously, she listed to hear if Maude was still up, only to be met with silence.

She turned on her radio as quietly as possible; a Chuck Berry song she'd never heard before played out.

She felt an itch in her brain, a bolt of electricity through her fingers. She moved them into position and, somehow, played what she'd just heard, note for note.

She gasped, letting go. The instrument crashed to the floor with a hollow bang. She scrambled to shut off the radio, her heart pounding wildly.

She strapped it into its case, shoving it deep into the very back of her closet. She jumped under her covers and turned out the light.