The Craft

1. Dream Meeting

Hey guys, so this is another old story that I wrote for a few years. But it’s newer than Prince of Darkness. The girl in the book's cover photo is Melissa.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it :)

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1. Dream Meeting

I opened my eyes and looked around. I was standing still, and everything around me was white. I was standing on white, surrounded by it, yet it looked like the white stretched into infinity. My ginger hair was more striking against this background than it normally was, the waves cascading down my back. My rather pale skin seemed slightly darker against the bright light around me.

But neither the fact that I seemed to be levitating on nothing but thin air, nor the fact that I was wearing a white dress that flowed past my feet bothered me.

I was too busy gawping at the godly form in front of me; just a few metres separated us. He had blond hair that was so light it was almost white, and sapphire blue eyes that glittered, glistened and glimmered. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the depths of those eyes.

“Have I died and gone to Heaven?” I whispered too entranced to make my voice louder.

The beautiful man seemed highly bemused by this, “No,” he replied.

It is happening, mother was right. I heard a voice in my mind say; I was confused; that wasn’t my voice.

This didn’t feel like any dream I’d had before, it felt more real, as if I was actually standing there - or hovering there…whatever.

Are you an angel? I was dying to ask but was too embarrassed to let the words pass from my lips.

“Not quite,” My eyes widened like saucers, had he just heard my thoughts? A smile played at his lips as he closed the space between us.

So, she is a youngling.

“Excuse me? I’m a what?” Despite my deep fascination with this angel, I still managed to be slightly indignant at the insult he had just paid me.

“It was not an insult.” He murmured; now standing directly in front of me.

I was just stating the fact that you do not know anything about The Craft.

“What’s The Craft?” I muttered as I continued to stare into his eyes.

“When I find you, I will teach you all about it.”

“But this is a dream; you can’t find me in reality.” I practically whimpered this from wanting me to be wrong.

The same amused expression spread across his face, and I could feel my cheeks burning.

I must have sounded so stupid.

“No, it is not your fault you have not been taught…I was like you once…”

I found that so hard to believe considering his radiant and handsome form.

I was lucky if I was ever called pretty.

“Now that is an understatement.”

The heat beneath my cheeks became even warmer.

And before I could stop myself the image of Jasmine Houghton appeared in my mind, the accepted It Girl of the school, now she was beautiful. With her blonde hair flowing past her shoulders, and her diamond grey eyes, her flawless face...