𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

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┊𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 ┊

┊ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 🔮 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 ┊

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┊ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 🔮 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋









      The middle of the night was one of LIZZIE   SALTZMAN's most favorite times of night. For Lizzie, the middle of the night was her time. The time that she could be all by herself, when she felt at her most alert, and when Lizzie felt like she was most active. At least, that's when she is allowed to be on her preferred schedule. Which didn't always happen due to her jobs; she works two very vastly different jobs. One is as a first desk clerk  at this cute little witch themed shop. It sold a big a sort of various things like crystals, pendulums, candles, and all sorts of possible altar needs. It was truly Lizzie's nature environment. Though, Lizzie's second job wasn't as cool or fun. She worked as a history teacher at a very private boarding school called Salvatore Boarding School For the Young and Gifted. The school name was more then deceiving in Lizzie's opinion. The boarding school was not really for gifted kids, but rather the very typical snobby rich kids who's parents paid to get them into her school. It's very annoying to her.


She'd had eventually learned to adapt to her shifting scheduled. She didn't mind that her work shifts change so much. Lizzie had taken a while for a night creature such as herself to adjust to actually sleeping good parts of the night and being up in the daytime. For the most part, she had a sort of compromise with herself. She'd stay up late enough to sleep in until close to seven or even noon, if she didn't have any classes that day. Then Lizzie would either skulk around her small art studio apartment or work some extra hours at her witch shop in the early daylight hours. For the most part, the young blonde witch waited patiently for evening to finally roll around. But, there were the rare few nights where her body just had far too much energy, and sleep seemed to be far away for her to reach. Nights like that had once found her in the comforts of her favorite local library, or off in some forest with her throwing knives, or even just rooming the empty night streets. Though there were many times were she'd just sat in her art studio apartment in a deep mediation. There were times that Lizzie would just simply sit in front of her alter and pray to Hecate, Aphrodite, and Artemis.


    Tonight was shaping up to be one of Lizzie's more sleepless nights, and very restless nights. It was just shy of three a.m. and Lizzie was just restless. Not just restless; anxious. There was something that felt off, something in her that had her unable to sleep, she just couldn't put her finger on it. It was this sort of nagging feeling, right in the back of her mind, like an itch that she couldn't even begin to scratch. It was this supernatural itch. This paranormal itch was keeping her wide awake. Lizzie sat in her window seat, looking out at the vast night sky and watching all of the grey smoke from her cigarette drift up to fade into the cold night air. Normally, she'd go out onto the bottom floor to smoke outside and watch the street or talk to her friend that worked at the front desk for the big apartment complex. But, though she was restless, she didn't really want to be far from the safety of her apartment. There was something within her that was just telling her that she needed to be close to her apartment.


Lizzie had lit one of her cigarette and turned her attention out toward the big night sky as a stormed began to roll in at a sudden full force. The once open sky was now pouring down rain like there was no tomorrow, lighting was lighting up the whole sky, and thunder began to let out huge roars off in the distance. It was second night in a row that her city was hit with a violent storm. Not that Lizzie really minded. Storms were beautiful to her. Intoxicating, really. Storms were something that are so utterly destructive, yet something so undeniably beautiful that it demanded to be watched.


Suddenly, Lizzie heard a knock on her door, which drew her attention away from her window. In all of her confusion, Lizzie charges her cigarette butt in her rose gold ashtray. She then arose from her window seat and slowly made her way towards her apartment's front door. She was just so utterly surprised that anyone would be at her front door at this time of night.

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 | ✰ | 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙Where stories live. Discover now