Phrontistery Of Monster Kind - Six Feet Deep

Chapter 32

As a young girl, magic had always fascinated me. I lived in the land of fairy tales, where dragons roamed and spoke of ancient times with beings who would cast spells and perform rituals that would give my father a heart attack if his children could do it.

We used to pretend we were the ancient ones, spent hours practising make-believe spells and trying to unlock the secrets of the world around us.

Even as non-magical folk, we were told there was magic in the land that anyone could use. We brewed potions, tainted with poisonous sap, and spoke a tongue only the elders did.

When Royse passed and I grew older, my love of magic only deepened and began to study it in earnest with the guidance of a particular faceless figure from my past.

Now what I did was child's play to the witches of modern times but to someone with no magic background besides the miracle of speaking in tongues (minus any religious implications).

Muriel Rigg was my taste into the new world. That was when I realised the true power of magic.

Muriel was unlike anyone I had ever met before. Her name wasn't Muriel Rigg. It's changed over the years from the stories I've told to students and the adaptations I scrawled down to remember.

She first joined when the school opened, teaching under the name we gave her, as it was untransferable from her tongue to ours.

She was quiet and reserved, and seemed to blend seamlessly into her surroundings. I used to watch her with fascination as she moved through crowds unnoticed, slipping in and out of shadows with ease.

She was bright, a pastel green, but her hair blended with the shadows at night. Clothed in ivy and vines that dug into her skin, squeezing to the point she should have bled.

She longed to be seen and recognised for who she truly was, a common trait we shared. Her teaching the students and me in her free time became her escape. In turn, she was mine.

I saw through her power and into his heart and loved her more for it. And though she tried to hide from me, I always found her in the shadows. Joining her there, we hid from our lives. I would have hidden in hers if I could have run away from mine.

That photo that was in my file was my greatest moment. We were both at maximum strength even if we were still hiding in the furthest depths of ourselves.

I was never a witch, and I was never a monster, but sometimes I wish I could go back to when I was a kid and play pretend for one more second.

At times like these, when I think back, I would open up one of my old 'journals' which were more of twisted recounts, similar to a game of Broken Telephone than an autobiography. Maybe I should relearn natural magic and see what has changed since I stopped caring about what plants could poison me, or what herbs can be used in a hex. Starla had been silent since the Coco rumours, and since we didn't have anyone else to teach the class, I'd best avoid that until they hire a monster who doesn't cover five different subjects.

I flipped through my journals in my office absorbed by my book. Sitting before the fire, or if I had a drink, at my desk and tried to relive the events in my head.

Under the mask of night, the faerie was beside me, but by morning, I had to face the fact that she now lived in my head.

I found myself caught in one of these times, reading from the poem book Harro gifted me. I know I should read the story Eliza brought me, but at this hour, words were simply pretty scribbles on a page than a key to another world.

My office was cold despite the fire, and I had wrapped myself up in a blanket, though my knitted cardigan already acted as one. The blanket Starla gifted me was a thin, metallic piece of craftsmanship. The silver yarn was strangely soft, for its appearance alone was sharp enough to cut flesh and it seemed to be infused with vanilla. What wasn't silver was speckled green and held a similar shine.