Today was the day of the Homecoming dance and Game. I had blessed my crush with a blessing of good luck as I gave him his daily message in seventh period. Strangely it's not who most people think it is. I will walk down the halls, hearing the whispers of my name. People think I don't hear but I always hear my name. "Jute is so crushing on the quarterback." But i'm not. Sure he's a nice guy and sweet and all but it's not him. He was straightish so I thought I would never get him but hey a gay can try right? I decided not to skip the Parade, and go. The strangest things happened. I could hear the whispers on the wind, and in a flash there they were. The dead. I saw so many dead souls, simply standing on the field. In the stands, even in the wooded area. They seemed so sad. They slouched, and had those faces of depression and sorrow across their pale faces. I knew then that bad things would soon follow. Boy was I right.
I had gotten home, and noticed all the people there. I hated it, I hated it when the people were there. All they did was freeload, and mooch. They lied, and decieved yet no one saw. I saw. I saw past their Mask. I despised their faces, the demons that lie within. Today is the day it broke. My own mask, my barrier of joy. I turned to the people, and looke them dead in the face. I spoke, my voice angry and deeper than usual."Get out. Get your crap and get out. Now." I pointed to the door, and two of the guest interupted me. I looked at them and spoke once more."No arguing. I am the oldest male so get out. I am tired of you freeloaders. Erik, Jake, Isaaia, and even Charly. Get the crap out of my grandmothers house." They all looked at me and nodded. Except for Erik. She stared at me and got the bitchyist attitude i've ever seen besides my aunts. "When you're an Adult then you can tell me what to do in yo house. K?" I stared at her with an expression of shock."Get out of my house Whore. Now."
She was still here, and I despised it. It was time for some mojo magick. Some Voodoo time. I closed my eyes and opened them. My back straightened and I started walking like a tramp. My hips swaying, and my hands prissy. I spoke in a strange Vodun or Voodoo witches voice: She was the result of a Personality I had created somehow. A spirit or such I had conjured. She spoke, and drew my Athame from beneath my Altar. Rescently we had collected some hair from Erik, and saved it for emergencies like this. I, or more She raisesd the Athame and pricked my finger, blood dripping on the hair. I spoke. "I ask of de Papa Legba to come down her' and do some'tin' to dis girl we got here. Take her slowly from dah human realm and join her with the Loa in dah after life. I ask of deh to will it be." Next thing I know the Whore has Cancer. Something to slowly draw her from this world, and realm. Cause her spirit and body death.
YOU ARE READING
The Wicked Witch of the South.
Ficção AdolescenteJute is no where near your average high school guy. For one he's a Wiccan, and a practitioner of Witchcraft. Secondly he's gay. He simply has plenty of "Problems" but he embraces them. Now a serious problem that he has is that his Darker side named...
