Shades of Secrets

Chapter 1

"You can't tame the spirit of someone who has magic in their veins." Those are the words so carefully scribed on a painting which hangs on my wall. My mother made that for me, when I was first born.

And it's that's quote which I see everyday when I wake up. It's very hard to miss, it's done in beautiful slanted handwriting, and is a massive painting.

It's also the quote I'm staring at right now. I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed, trying to finish my French homework. Of course my French homework is rather difficult, I'm in advanced placement French. However I stop letting my mind wander and I drift my eyes back to the beautiful quote.

I know the quote is a tad too hopeful on my mothers part. She hopes so desperately that I'll be a witch, but so far it seems I won't be. I can picture her in my mind, recounting the same tale about our family. I can imagine her now, standing in front of me with her large green eyes and straight blonde hair. She'd be looking down at me, since she's quite a bit taller. I can even picture exactly the way she delivers the same message. She always stands with a know-it-all attitude when she tells me I'm going to be a witch, like she knows.

I know she wants what's best for me. It's probably because she isn't a witch. It frustrates my mother, that no one in the family has been a witch since her grandmother. She always holds out hope though that I'll be a witch. I don't have the heart to tell her I don't think it's going to happen. She always talks with exaggerated bliss about witchcraft, about how most witches will get their powers between the ages of 8 and 12. Well, I'm 15, and going to turn 16 next month, so I don't see that happening. I know in my mother's heart she knows it's not going to happen too.

I feel badly for her though, she desperately wants a child with the magical abilities that she's only heard off. She's always wanted it. I remember when I was 8, and she let me skip a week of school because she though I'd have my reckoning.

The reckoning is apparently where a witch glows a certain colour and floats in the air for a few seconds. Apparently their eyes change colour to the glow for the first week, and then they have their full powers. My mother told me after that week, that maybe I was late. She told me that the most powerful witches had their reckonings later. I don't think she really believes that.

A loud crash suddenly interrupts my brooding. It sounds like it's coming from the living space. My mother probably forgot we moved the couch again.

I stand up, and my red French notebook accidentally falls to the hardwood floor. I bend over to quickly snatch it up, but end up hitting my head on the top bunk which lies above my bed. The French book falls once again to the floor as I mumble a colourful curse word under my breath. I walk out of my ghastly green bedroom quickly, rubbing my head where I hit it. My room hasn't been painted since I was seven. It's a hideous shade of light green that looks yellowing with age.

As I walk out of my small bedroom, I notice that the flower vase across from my room, on the shelf looks different. "Oh hell she must have broken it again," I mutter as I walk away.

I don't have very far to walk since I live in a small apartment with two bedrooms, a kitchen and a living space. That's pretty much the only kind of appartement most people can afford in Vancouver, British Colombia. The house market is really high.

When I get to the living space, which is around the corner from my room, I see my mother. She is standing with her blonde hair in a messy half bun on her head. Her long face is looking down at something that the couch is blocking. Her green eyes move quickly to me when she notices my presence.

"Hey Roseline, sorry but I just dropped my bracelet.... and my water glass," my mother laughs lightly, glancing to her feet. Her eyes sparkle with humour.