The Ivy Witch

daffodil

(new beginnings)

When Rosa was younger, she used to sneak out of her bed late at night, dodging creaky floor boards and toys splayed out in her living room until she reached the window. She would gaze up at the night sky, practically feeling the stars' sparkle reflected in her own eyes. They were beautiful, blazing white, and so far out of reach.

Her mother used to tell her stories about how fate latched itself onto stars and showed her how to track their movements in hope to find her future. At the time, she had been mesmerized, but now she knew how fake it all was.

Now at age seventeen, she understood that the stars weren't mystical, just balls of burning gas light years away. Yet, for some reason, they still brought comfort.
Which was why she was now strolling along on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky, at precisely 1:38 am.

The night was eerily quiet and still, and the dull yellow beams of the street lights offered little comfort as she scuffed her slippers on concrete. Her grandmother had always told her she had a restless spirit, and tonight her wandering mind lead her tired feet over the porch steps and down the street, only to stop at the Ivy House.

The Ivy House had always been a mystery to her. It didn't seem that old, it was just run down and clearly vacant (and covered with a curtain of ivy, hence the name). Its windows were boarded up, its garage door rusting, yard overgrown, and the only living thing that she'd ever seen hanging around it was a skinny black cat. Rosa stood frozen in front of it until her brain caught up an began yelping yet again, "Your science paper! Why aren't you doing your essay? You have to do your essay, because if you don't you'll fail and drop out of high school and never get a job or get married and you'll end up owning one threadbare blanket and a dime you nicked off another street rat!!"

She sighed tiredly and jammed her fists into her too-small pockets. Sleep called her, but she knew she couldn't accede to it just yet. She tapped her worn slipper against the pavement, and finally began to turn.

Then everything went wrong at once.
Her toe caught on the deep crack of the Ivy House's driveway, the wind howled, shrieking in her ear, causing her hair to block her sight, and her exhausted body let her fall. She felt too tired to get up. It was okay down here anyway. She could live with her face in the dirt. A frizzy night-black clump of hair fell into her eyes, disturbing her mantras of self-pity, and so, huffing, she began to stand when her eyes focused on something absurdly out of place.

The Ivy House's door was open.

And the lights were on.

Scrambling to attention, Rosa stood straight up and gazed upon the open door. The small sliver of light shining through entranced her, and she rubbed her weary eyes. This was real. It was probably some bum that broke into the house, she reasoned. Nothing to worry about.

Yawning, Rosa took the time to study the sand brown of the bricks when something soft rubbed against her calf and purred. The midnight-hued tail of the black cat curled gently around the bend in her knee, effectively rooting her to the spot. One of its bright green eyes winked up at her before it propelled itself onto the porch, gently nosing the door open before slipping inside

The door creaked open to reveal a girl's head peeking around the corner of hall connecting to the foyer. "Oh, hello kit," she greeted the cat. The cat then strutted inside, pleased with himself before hesitating, glancing back at Rosa. "Kitty?" the girl asked before she lifted her eyes up further and caught sight of Rosa's bewildered face. "You brought a friend! Please do come in," she smiled warmly at Rosa.