Harringrove prompts

Strange Magick 2

Steve's grandma was right about everything.
The auras
The pain
The tug
But she never told him about the dreams.
He figured she never got the chance to have them. She'd poisoned Charles Hargrove as quick as she could.

No one could have prepared him for the dreams.
He was slapped against the lapping waves. He was just...floating. Floating in the middle of the ocean with no sign of the shore.
From where he was floating, the water turned black. Emitting from someplace below him.
The black rose up, reaching his feet. Then his knees, and his hips.
Soon enough the whole ocean was black.
And he was no longer floating in the water.

He was sinking. Further and further into the black abyss. Blurring his senses and clogging his abilities.

Then there was wood. Wood and a knotted rope.
A noose.
People were gathered around. Angry and disgruntled looks on their faces. Some were shouting but Steve couldn't make it out. Everything sounded waterlogged. Like he was still sinking further down into the black ocean he was in.
A brunette girl caught his eye. She was pretty. In a historical drama type way. She wasn't like the usual girls Steve knew.
She had long dark braids with matching dark golden skin. The thing that had caught Steve's attention, was her eyes.
Blue grey clothed in long dark lashes.
He'd seen those eyes before.

"Anne Harrington. By order of the law and counties of Salem, Massachusetts. We hereby condemn you to death by hanging. For the sin of witchcraft through the terrorizing of Sally Hargrove.
If you have any last condolences you'd like to express, do so now."

And then he was standing in the crowd. Staring at where he once was.
In his place was who he assumed was Anne Harrington.
Her hair was long and falling down her shoulders in deep darkened strands.
She was staring straight at him. Glaring with piercing gray blue eyes. Just like sally.
But his grandmother had specifically told Steve that he got his brown eyes from his grandmother and she got hers from Anne Harrington.
Her hands were bound but in that moment, she  looked ready to break free and strangle him then and there.

The crowd hushed, listening intently for a confession. Even the woods around them hushed. The once rattling leaves stood still. Not daring to move.

But before she could speak, black crows started flying down, Swooping above the crowds heads.
And soon enough there was a swarm. Weaving and bobbing in and out. People were screaming and crying out. Ducking for cover.

But Anne Harrington didn't move a muscle. She just stared, watching the chaos unfold around her.

Steve woke up.
Breath heaving, eyes glancing around his room.

He felt the tug again. The squeezing pain near his heart.
He shook his head and slumped back down to his bed.

The next day Steve saw Billy. The Hargrove kid. Looking a little worse for wear.
With dark bags under his eyes.

'Maybe he didn't sleep.' Steve thought, taking glances at him in their shared English class.

He didn't see Billy again till Basketball practice.
They were in the locker room. Steve normally makes it to drills on time but Nancy had stopped him to chat and ask about a party, which of course they were going to go.

Little did he know Billy would be running late as well.
It was only after Tommy clapped Steve on the shoulder that he realized they were alone. With only the sound and metal clicking and clashing against one another and the rustling of clothes.

"Hey listen—" Billy started, facing the brunette boy. Steve turned his head to listen.
"Whatever prank or something you pulled on me in the woods this last weekend it better not happen again or your ass is grass."

Steve scoffed pulling his gym shoes from his locker. He noticed the silver on the edges where the red paint had been scuffed.
"Ooh, real scary..." he sided, his hands quickly untying his laces.

"I mean it Harrington. Mess with me and you'll be eating your meals through a straw."
Then he felt it.
The pull.
But not as hard as over the weekend. Just a tug.
Then he saw red. A dot of red on his shoe. Then another.

"You listening to me Harrington?"
He was.
But from somewhere he was bleeding.
His skull felt like it would cave in on itself any second. The pull tugged against him and the corners of his eyes clouded over. Darkening the edges and pinpointing the center.
"What the fu-"

He turned towards the boy, he was staring at his hand. Cupped close towards his jaw.
Dragging down his face was a steady line. A stream of red starting from his nostril and cascading down to his chin.

Steve tipped his head back and felt his own nose.
Definitely blood.
He pulled back seeing a muddled red dot now on his finger. The lines of his fingerprint bridging against the blood.

Billy really gave him hell at practice that day.
Shoving him, blocking him at every chance. Knocking into him so that he'd slam into the shined wood floor.

Steve was getting tired of it.
His left shoulder was bruised and his head hurt.
He just wanted to go home and pull something up to speed up the healing for his bruises.
The day just seemed to keep getting better.

Halfway through practice Steve had been shoved to the ground again by none other than Hargrove.
He reached down to help him up. Like what the teammates were told to do.
This was the first time out of three that Billy actually helped him up.
"Plant your-"
The boys gasped the second their hands touched.
A ginger girl laid beside someone. A wild head of curls and a pretty smile. She looked to be in some old fashion nightgown. Her pinky was interlocked with whomever she was looking at.
"I love you Marié." She whispered. Eyes shining and bottom lip bitten. She whispered it as though it was the most sacred and beautiful thing anyone could have ever said.
It was..... nice.
And then it went away as fast as it had come.

"Your- holy shit!" He dropped Steve. Letting him fall back on the ground.
The coach reprimanded the boys and sent them early to the showers.
They stayed far away from each other.