NOTE: This story is heavily based on the Avalon saga, by Marion Zimmer Bradley and Diana Paxson. If you don't know their style, you may find it a little strange.
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Chapter 01-
The year of 1875
Joseph's stepmother made his life a living hell. He acknowledged the burden he was for his family, but it wasn't as if he wouldn't change if he could. He barely remembered his mother, but attached himself to a figment of a woman who had been kind and loved him.
He was on his second job now. It was a wonder he could find jobs. Now he had acquired a hawker's license and as if it wasn't bad enough, people shut the door on his deformed face.
He would ring another house. A fancy one, a mansion. Maybe he would be lucky and earn lots of money.
When he came to, he was shamelessly staring at the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. She was no staff, for the stylish dress she was wearing. It was emerald, like her eyes. Her hair was copper, lush and loose and even though she had freckles, her skin was a shade of pearl.
She seemed his age and looked at him as if she had stepped on something nasty.
"Granny!" she suddenly shouted in a musical voice, "There's the strangest boy outside and I don't know what to make of him."
"If it is a seller, send him away!" shouted another singular, potent voice.
"Are you a seller, Your Ugliness?" she said, curtsying.
Joseph was disconcerted.
"Yes..." he managed to mumble.
"What do you sell?" she asked, interested, finally noticing his case.
"Saoirse! Stop interacting with strangers! And sellers! Get back inside, it's time for your piano lessons!"
The girl, whose name seemed to be 'Saoirse', gritted her teeth in rage.
"I hate piano!" she muttered.
Then, Joseph was caught by surprise, again. The woman who seemed to be shouting from inside appeared. It was a lady, no more than sixty, and Joseph concluded she must be Saoirse's Grandmother. They had the same hair and the same eyes. Only that Saoirse's hair reminded him of fire.
"Oh my God!" cried Saoirse's Granny at seeing Joseph.
"Haven't I told you, Granny? Isn't he absurd?"
Joseph didn't know what to make of Saoirse's choice of word. Was it laughable? Was he laughable? Could he be a comedian with his appearance?
And he also noticed that as beautiful as she was, she was also arrogant. She looked at him from above, with her head sky high. She even seemed conceited.
"That's what you earn by ringing rich people's door houses..." thought Joseph.
"Aw, you poor thing, so you are a seller! I'm Kate. How is it with you?" spilled Saoirse's Granny, startling Joseph.
"I think he is a mute, Gran. Or retarded." Saoirse snickered.
Joseph was used to being called names, but he was feeling humiliated by that girl.
"Saoirse!" the woman scolded the girl, and continued talking to Joseph "Come on boy, have courage! Sell your merchandise! What have you to offer?" asked Saoirse's Granny, full of maternal interest. He already liked her.
That's when the rain started. Joseph remained there, standing by the door, waiting for it to be shut on his face. Again.
"Get in, it's pouring! We can buy from you inside." invited Granny Kate.
Joseph shed some tears. He wasn't accustomed to such free tenderness.
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"I sell gloves, but I have a few candies to share with you..." said Joseph, eager, opening his case.
"You speak in a strange way. One can barely understand it." mocked Saoirse.
Joseph blushed. Why did she seem to hate him so?
He offered her a chocolate he had been saving not to starve.
"Those are fattening." complained Saoirse. "How am I supposed to fit my couture dresses if I keep eating these things?" moaned Saoirse, tediously. "Oh, I have such a headache! Boy, you're no longer a hawker, now you are my servant! Fetch me a glass of water and a soft pillow!" she threw herself on the golden red sofa.
Was she... joking? The house, Joseph could see, had its own staff!
"Fräulein Saoirse!" a blonde woman walked into the room and when she saw Joseph, she emitted a stifled cry.
"Was ist das, Ethel? Do your feet hurt?" inquired Saoirse, nonchalantly.
"I just-I just---" Ethel stared from Saoirse to Joseph. "It's time for your piano lesson. Your Granny ordered you to buy your friend's whole stock and let him remain here as long as he pleases."
Joseph couldn't believe his ears.
Saoirse waited for Ethel to leave and asked:
"Does Granny not know here is no orphanage?" she said, taunting Joseph. "But just between us, Joseph, why ever did you ring our doorbell?"
Joseph had flushed tomato red. Not only was Saoirse talking to him directly, but also, using his name.
"Because it was the most beautiful house in the neighborhood," he said, full of shame.
"And so it is!" said Saoirse. "Granny and I are, what you usual people call, witches. It's practical using that to our advantage. The Power always skips one generation and comes back stronger. I even know the day I'll die!"
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, regretfully.
"Why? I know the day you'll die as well. Would you like to know?"
"NO!"
"Why, you will die either way. Makes no difference to me. Granny and I know you suffer abuse at home."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"You'll die peacefully." Saoirse stretched on the sofa.
"I do not want to know. It's scaring me."
"I'm scaring you, aren't I?" she said, suddenly closer to him. He was intent on her face. "If you look into my eyes, you'll know everything-"
He was mesmerized by those vivid sorcerer's eyes. He was falling... Entrapped...
"Mademoiselle Saoirse! Piano, maintenant!"
Saoirse rose and ran away. But Joseph saw flashes of things he couldn't understand. He thanked God the conection was broken.
And also remembered he had not told her his name.
YOU ARE READING
The Witch
Novela JuvenilWhen he was young, he met a very singular person. More singular than him. A story about an adolescent Joseph. The Elephant Man (Joseph Merrick)/OC cover by: me