WITCH - ARA

Twenty seven

After Aiden left around six in the evening, I sank into the quiet of my home, feeling the weight of everything crash down on me. Tomorrow, I had to get back to work. I couldn't afford to lose my job; if I did, I wouldn’t have a penny left to feed myself. The thought alone made my chest tighten as I moved around, cleaning up the mess.

But then, out of nowhere, a sharp pain shot through my head. It was so intense I dropped to the floor, clutching my head in my hands. “No, no, no, please!” I screamed, shaking my head desperately. The sound of a high-pitched “Beeeeeeeeeee” filled my ears, piercing through everything else. My vision blurred, and then I felt something warm trickle from my nose.

Blood.

“Go, go, you know where your answers are. Go.”

The voice echoed inside my skull, sending shivers down my spine. I pulled at my hair, trying to make it stop, trying to make sense of it. My head pounded, and then a sharp, searing pain flared on the side of my wrist. I looked down, tears blurring my eyes, and watched as a small inverted cross  slowly appeared, burning into my skin. It felt like fire, but then, as quickly as it started, the noise in my ears faded, and the burning sensation dulled.

“You know where to go. Go.”

The voice was calmer now, almost guiding. I wiped the blood from my nose, feeling a mix of fear and determination. I didn’t know where I was headed, but the pull was undeniable. I ran out into the cold, not caring about the breeze biting at my skin. I didn’t know where I was going, but something inside me told me I’d find the answers.

And I had to keep moving.

I kept running, my feet hitting the pavement, the cold air biting at my skin. I didn’t know where I was going, but I followed the pull inside me. It was like a magnetic force, dragging me forward, and I couldn’t resist it even if I wanted to. Eventually, I stopped, panting, in front of an old wooden house. It looked like it had been built in the 80s, with its weathered wood and creaking porch. The place seemed like it was untouched by time, almost eerie in the fading light.

I hesitated for a moment but then pushed the door open. The hinges groaned as I stepped inside, guided by instincts I didn’t understand. The air smelled of herbs and something faintly sweet, like old books and incense. In the dim light, an old woman sat in the corner. She had to be in her 60s, with long, graying hair pulled back into a loose braid. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled warmly, as if she had known me for years.

"How are you, Blaze? Been what, 22 years since I saw you?" she said, her voice soft and oddly familiar.

My skin prickled. “How do you know my name? And... who are you?”

She gestured for me to follow her into a small room at the back of the house. The moment I stepped in, my breath caught. The room was filled with objects I recognized instantly: candles, jars of herbs, charms, crystals—all things used by a witch. The air felt electric, as if the space was alive with hidden energy.

She turned to face me again, her eyes sweeping over my face. “Sorry I did that,” she said, nodding toward the blood still smeared on my nose.

“What do you mean?” I asked, confusion mixing with the fear churning inside me. “Did what?”

“You needed a push,” she replied, her eyes twinkling as if this was some kind of game. “And a reminder of who you are.”

My pulse quickened. I had so many questions, but the answers felt just out of reach. “Who are you?” I asked again, feeling my grip on reality slipping.

She only smiled, the warmth of it not quite reaching her eyes.

The old woman’s gaze softened as she said, “My name is Elara. I was the best friend of your... real mother.”