The Storm

8

" What the fuck do you want.." I growl every ounce of my patience and wit completely drained out of me from the past 5 attempts of gaining information form the stupid memory. With that and the pain growing in my core my mood was pretty sour making it very difficult to even think about handling the man child red head.
"Anastasia...Help.....Need...Help." The voice was distant and broken almost like I was hearing it out of a walkie talkie placed halfway across the world. One thing was for certain though, that was not Graysons voice or anyone I knew. Slowly sitting up my jaw drops as I watch the small purple ball bounce around in the air before me. It's movement were spastic and unpredictable as it hung in the air almost as if it was avoiding something that was trying to hit it. I called out to it," H-Hello?" And then mentally face palm at the stupidity I must have to call out to a glowing ball as if it could have a conversation with me.
" Help....I...need....hello...Please...don't..." The purple ball zips forward and stops mere cementers away from my face but I don't flinch back the left over Volturi side of me struggling to place up the wall. " Don't What?" I whisper softly shivering as the purple mist like wisps touch my cheek and curl around my face. " Don't....stop....fighting." Now that it was closer the voice was much clearer. It was women's voice with a British accent and another one under it that I couldn't place my finger on its origins. The mist twirled further into my hair until tails of purple mist were just wrapped around my head. " Who are you?" As the words leave my lips the purple ball freezes mid spas and hovers for a second before closing the last few centimeters between it and my face.
Flinching back I gasp in shock at the sudden attack and clamp my eyes shut for a second. Purple and black dots speckle the back of my eye lids surprising me at the dramatic color changes between the two. " You can open your eyes." The voice was clear and close so close that now my brain was able to come to the conclusion of her begin a British native but born in Africa or a Caribbean island.
" Anastasia Cullen..." She smiles softly at me her pearly white teeth standing out against her beautiful hazelnut skin tone. " Hi?" I scramble to my feet and awkwardly wrap my arms around me. Something about this women makes me feel safe and intimidated at the same time. She steps forward her purple dress dragging against the forest ground causing the dead leaves under her to crack under the slightest pressure.
" I've heard so many stories about you. But I didn't believe you could help me until you tore down that wall that was holding your memories back. He thought you were becoming weaker but he has no idea the power you hold in you. I can feel the small traces of your Wicca blood it's very strong." Her voice is captivating forcing me to cling onto every syllable she utters in the slight ramble. " Thank you?" I step back and nearly trip over the dress I was wearing. Glancing down I quietly wine in a annoyance suddenly feeling the now barely there weight of all the petticoats and skirt, but the memories of the 100 pounds of fabric that I was forced to endure when I was a human sent shivers down my spine.
The dress itself was beautiful, a black bodice with a matching skirt and on the outside flaps of the skirt white embroidered roses lined the edges of the dress. Something only the richest of the rich would wear and even at that it was almost taboo to wear such art work outside were it could be destroyed. " What the hell is going on? Who the fuck are you?" I bunch up the skirt fabric in my hands and step forward demanding answers but the women merely smiles down at me like a mother to a inpatient child. " You haven't guessed who am? Or where you are?" She raises her hand gestures to something behind me with a teasing smile like she knew something I didn't and it pissed me off.
I spin around and blanch in surprise at the bustling village that lays before me. Women and Men walk around doing their fair share of chores and young children run around chasing each other in a game they had created. Older children help their parents prepare for the day the boys carry hay to the horses and the girls bring back water from the well at the center of the square. It seemed peaceful.
A sinking feeling settles in my stomach as the image before me seems to parallel with something I had seen before and I didn't like the ending to that story. " A village?" I finally speak looking at the women beside me who merely nods sadly as she looks down at the bustling community. Turning back around I study the surroundings looking for a clue of anything that would tell me who this women was.
My feet move on their own accord as I speed down the small hill and stop at the 'entrance' to the village. My eyes travel around the buildings and homes. " By What their wearing...1600's maybe 1700's." I whisper to myself as I continue to walk around the area until I come to a jarring stop before a sign that was placed on the ride that lead up to the woods. " Oh my god..." My jaw drops as every history lesson I've ever had comes forward and I reread the name over and over to make sure I'm comprehending what the piece of wood nailed to a stake says.
" Salem village....this is the Salem Village!!" I back away from the plaque and turn to stare at the quite women who looks down at the ground with a sad dark look. "Shit..." I whisper to myself as another reality hits me. If this was Salem and she knew about Wicca and Witchcraft then she has to be, " Tituba?" The name sounds stupid on my lips. Tituba was dead it had been more then three hundred years since the Salem witch trials there was no way. The women lifts her head and breaths deeply as the wind twirls through her pulled back hair. " I.....How?" I breath in disbelief staring at one of the main contributors to the United States very own witch hunt.
    " Him." She growls  angrily pointing a accusing finger at the red head devil walking through the time square with a skip in his step. No one bats a eyelash at his paper white complexion or his blood red eyes or his razor like smile. " He did this to me and I'm going to make him pay for it. And your going to help me get what I want." Dark purple energy waves glow around her fingers as the famous witch becomes increasingly enraged. " I've been trapped in my mind for 10 months....I don't have anything to help you with." I ground out feeling pathetic at the announcement of weakness and lost.
     " Not yet." She smirks darkly her eyes still trained on the common enemy as he helps a older man carry a stack of hay through the square dramatizing the amount of strength it takes to hold the bail up. " You help me and I'll help you get your soul pieces back." It wasn't a question in my mind and I didn't mill over the options as I stared at the red head who hid behind his gifts vail to fit in and cause chaos. " What do I need to do?" I turn to the 300 year old witch with a new fire in my eyes which makes her smile her character changing drastically as Hope soars in both our hearts. Hers with the hope of revenge and blood and mine with the hope of seeing my love and being wrapped in his arms once again.

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Hey loves I'm sorry I haven't been keeping up with my updates and I'm not trying to make up excuses but all I asks is that you patient with me as I slowly get back into the creative swing of things.
                                               ~Luna🌑