The Witch's Ghost

What a Friend Is

Well guys, it's Chapter 5, so it's time to venture the 5th and final floor. This floor had my favorite music; really emotional, I think.

Chapter 5: What a Friend Is

6 years ago; after Ellen's birthday

"You know, Ellen, I just thought of something." Viola said as she and Ellen walked up the house's stairways without shoes. "We've known each other for three years, and we never told each other our last names."

"Really? Hm... I never noticed."

"Yeah. Maybe we should. I mean, we'd know each other much better, right? Why shouldn't we?"

"My last name is kind of... weird." Ellen blushed.

"Okay, then I'll give mine first. My last name is... Somershire."

"Kmm." Ellen chuckled. "That is a weird name."

"So tell me yours!"

Ellen looked away, smiling softly. "...It's Wickens."

"Wow, really? Is your whole family magic?"

"No, it's just a name. My parents abandoned me because I was magic, anyway. I used to have old photos of cousins and relatives. We're more noticeable for our purple hair."

"Purple hair is a hard thing to come by." Viola lightly brushed Ellen's hair. "I don't think I see many people with golden eyes, either."

"I have a book about Eye Studies." Ellen looked at Viola, her catlike eyes narrowed as she wore a humorous smile. "Maybe you should do some research."

"Maybe I will." Viola grinned. "So where are we going, again?"

"Outside." Ellen faced forward.

"Ellen, outside is downstairs!"

"Not in my house." Ellen said as they crossed a hallway of stained glass windows. "Wait until you see it." She opened a door, passed a small room with four colored dolls, and they were there.

The noontime sun hit Viola's face, made her golden hair sparkle. They were on the mansion's roof, she assumed. A garden flourished here, lush green grass growing from soil. They walked down a narrow path with archways of blood-red roses to enter the main garden. An elder tree stood in the center and appeared very ripe, all of its leaves in place, its bark solid and sturdy. A patch of white flowers grew before it, rose bushes filled the corners, dark-green moss on the walls. To her left was a table of coffee and cakes, to her right, red grasses breezed beside a door. Viola felt a shadow pass over her, and looking at the ground, she saw the winged shadow of a bird flying over the tree in circles. But when she looked at the sky, there was no bird, only clouds and sun.

"Ellen... this is beautiful. How did you make all of this?"

"This is nothing, really. It's child's play with the extent magic can do."

The fresh scents of many flowers and flora filled Viola's nose. She wiggled her toes between the soggy grass, embracing the nature of this garden. There was something odd about the feel, though. "This grass... it doesn't feel like any I know. ..." She looked at the roses. She approached a bush and gently felt its petals. "These roses, too. They're..."

"Of course they're not real plants. Everything is magically made." Ellen said. "All the plants are tied to my emotional state. The garden only flourishes when I'm calm or happy. When I'm sad, things wilt... when I'm sick, they die. ...They've been flourishing a lot, lately."