Generation Witchcraft

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I wake up with a jolt.

An overwhelming torrent of light assaults my vision – I see nothing but white. I hear voices, reverberating, like echoes. My head feels like it’s been bludgeoned by a hammer repeatedly. My mouth is dry, and pain radiates throughout my body. I can’t even remember what happened before I lost consciousness, can’t remember where I am, who I am.

The whiteness gradually fades until I’m able to see again. I’m in a small room, on a bed. Cream-coloured walls decorated with numerous photos. There are three people by my side; two blonde girls and one brown-haired boy. They look familiar. The blonde with blue eyes lightly puts her hand over mine.

“Hey, Patrick,” she says calmly, smiling at me. “I’m Sally. How are you feeling?”

Her saying my name triggers flashes of memories. It’s all coming back to me, slowly.

I am Patrick Redding … I’m in Pennsylvania … I live in Boston … where I mostly smoke in my room and watch Doctor Who …

I … fire …

My eyes quickly dart to the boy, who waves hi.

“Hi,” he says.

Then, it was as if the floodgates were opened – memories and memories start coming back to me, quick yet vivid flashes. Images of me setting that asshole on fire … with my mind, the screams of agony he made echoing in my head. Another memory of a fire plays … a large campfire, these three people were there … the boy was burnt … burnt… I remember extinguishing the fire, and then feeling really tired, light-headed … my nose began to bleed, and I lost consciousness.

Georgy, the blonde girl with green eyes, pulling me towards her, even though I was a yard away …

Sally leans in closer, and I jump.

“Fuck off!” I say.

“Patrick, it’s oka-” Sally begins, but I hold out my hand.

“Back the fuck off, all of you. Before I set you on fire.”

It was a threat; I can’t really set people on fire by will. But judging from the nervous looks on their faces, they don’t know that.

“Patrick,” says the brown-haired boy. “Man, it’s fine. You’re safe. No need for any of that.”

I study him, his face and body are perfectly fine, not a scratch; there isn’t any indication that he’d been standing in the middle of a huge fire.

“You,” I manage to let out. “You were … you were fried. You were black and I couldn’t even recognise you … how the hell?”

“Patrick we can tell you,” Sally says. “If you just calm down.”

She slowly reaches out to me, gently taking my raised arm. My eyes and hers, an icy blue, are locked. I can’t look away.

“No need for that,” she says, and all of a sudden my muscles start to relax, become numb. My arm drops limply onto my lap. “Just take a moment, and breathe and you’ll feel better. It’ll all go away.”

Her voice is calming, hypnotic. She’s doing something to me – I’m doing what she’s telling me to do, and I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel angry that she’s controlling me, not angry that I can’t fight back. I don’t even feel like trying to struggle. My fear has suddenly dissipated. She steps back, and after a moment I feel myself having control over my body again.

“Okay, Patrick.” Sally gestures toward the brown-haired boy. “This is Paulie. She’s Georgy. I’m Sally.”

I simply nod for my response.