Beautiful Death

            “Get out witch.” said my grandfather.

            “Just because I’m a death witch doesn’t mean you have to reject me from the family!” said my sister.

            “It’s not because you’re a death witch it’s because you’re a women, you know what happens if you get close to a male!” said my father.

            “Then what about my brother, he is more powerful and stronger than all of us and he is a death witch!” said my sister.

They continued to fight through the night; they even threw a few spells at each other. This is my family its pretty average…. Well if you don’t count that were all witches, if you paid attention to the yelling you would have over heard that she was a death witch and well so was I. When we each turn the age of 10 we choose who we want to be and what we are like usually helps decide for us.

            I was the kid, the one in the family that everyone wanted to succeed. My grandfather was a light witch; he often was the only person I could talk to about my abilities since they say I was the incarnation of his own father. Knowing this I was the most powerful witch in the family, I mean how many one year old witch’s you know that can change the weather on their mood.

2

            I woke up to a normal day the rain quietly hitting my roof, it was calming it made me wanted to go back to sleep and let the day pass.

            “Hey, you death bastard get up!” said my uncle

            “Says the one who uses the dead to tie his shoes!” I yelled back through my door.

That’s my uncle; he is more of a friend than anything. We were both death witches so we often joked with each other. I slowly rolled out of bed, got up and looked in the mirror. What I say were two brown eyes staring back at me, accompanying my normal look of dread. My long hair pulled down over my left eye, the brown hair was matted and greasy. I looked on my floor for a shirt and found a black one with some skulls painted around the front. I then found a pair of jeans and put them on, and also grabbed a black hat from the table. It covered my hair well only a little showed through coving my left eye.

            I yawned and opened my door and walled down stairs. The marble white stairs leading me down to the first floor of my house, I sat on the banister and slid down. They continuously curved and moved for what seemed like an eternity. They finally led me to the bottom floor. I walked along the black tiled floor to the dining room, it looked beautiful as always, since it was spring my grandmother had decorated it with trees and leaves. Since we are witches we can grow anything anywhere, the room seemed to continue to a forest the strong hint of sweet sap filled the air. A small man sat at the far end of the dining room table reading the New York Times.

            “So, you going to kill anyone today?” said my grandfather

            “Why would I do that?” I said

            “Have you forgot? Its been a few months if you don’t you will lose your power.” He said