Last night I had the same dream about Harold and the witch. Harold. Why did he have to come into my life? Is it too late to get him out of it?
I don’t want to be ‘the guardian,’ I don’t even want to be associated with any supernatural beings. My mother left me for her life of being a witch; she left her only daughter.
I have a good life as it is. I love photography, and traveling, and being normal. I just want to be normal for the rest of my life so why can’t Harold just let me be?
*knock knock knock*
I got up and walked to the door wondering who the hell could be here. I don’t think I was expecting anyone— Harold.
“No!” I shouted slamming the door.
I locked the door, grabbed a knife from the kitchen, and ran up to my bedroom getting under the covers. I couldn’t hear any knocking so I assumed he was gone. I slowly pulled the covers down to check if he was gone. I crept over to the window and looked out to see he had gone. I let out a breath of relief.
“Hello love.”
I let out a shriek in surprise and panic, jumping backwards and throwing my knife at him. He let out a groan before hunching over a bit. I hit him right in the stomach; the handle sticking out.
He grabbed the handle and pulled it out, dropping it to the ground and smirking at me.
“Is that any way to treat a guest?” he asked.
“You’re not a guest, you’re an intruder,” I argued, keeping my distance.
He shrugged off my comment, bent down and grabbed the knife off the ground. This is it. He’s going to kill me. I’ve made him angry. I closed my eyes and curled away from him as he approached me.
A few moments passed before I realized nothing was happening. I opened my eyes to see him in the bathroom, washing the blood from the blade.
I stood in place as he finished up in the bathroom, returning back to the bedroom with the knife.
“Now,” he sped away for a moment. What the fuck? Where’d he go? “Back to business.”
I jumped back again at his sudden return.
“W-what?” I stuttered, trying to put my thoughts together.
“You know my name,” he stated.
“Harold?” I asked, calming myself down even though I was absolutely freaking out on the inside.
He chuckled at the mention of his name, “It’s been a while since anyone’s called me that. I go by Harry now.” I nodded in understanding. We both stood there in silence for another moment until he spoke up.
“You can talk, you know. Conversations are usually carried on between two people—“
“You’re not a person,” I stated bluntly.
“I am,” he responded, “I happen to be a dead person, but a person none the less.”
I rolled my eyes at his technicality. He seems cocky and rude. Who am I kidding? He’s amazing. Wait no! Don’t fall for it Jess. He’s a monster and you want no part of this life.
“You’re a creep,” I retorted.
He let out a throaty laugh before nodding and agreeing, “perhaps. But you wouldn’t speak to me if I didn’t let myself in so…”
“What do you want?”
“I want to know how you know my name.”
“I, it was a lucky guess,” I attempted to cover up the truth.
