A Witch's Scorn

I realized that my family was different the second time my mother died. I did not know what made us different, but I did know that people didn't die twice, at least other people. The first time mother died was very mysterious. She was found in her bed, lifeless. She had no scarring, no bruises, and no broken bones. She was just-dead. Of course the police were not notified and the doctors certainly weren't called, father simply called grandmother. She arrived quicker than what should be possible, with a bag full of candles and strange plants. She locked herself in the room with my mother for a few hours. The next thing I knew, I had my mommy back. It did not phase me though, being three years old, my mother coming back from the dead did not strike me as odd.

The second time mother died was nowhere near as low key. I was seven years old, completely oblivious to magic. I arrived home from school and found the house in flames. The fire leaped from the sofa, to the table, to the television, devouring everything it touched. These were no ordinary flames, for they burned with a green glow. As a foolish child, I didn’t know whether to be amazed or frightened. How stupid I was.

Then I heard a shriek of my mother. I ran down the burning halls, dodging the flames, to my mother’s bed room. There she was, dressed in a night slip, hair a mess, and a giant demon on top of her.

The creature was larger than an average man, resembling a gorilla. Its skin was red and scaly, with black horns parading all over its body. “Mom,” I shrieked like an idiot. The monster’s head snapped toward me, revealing a hideous contorted face. He leapt off my mother faster than I could comprehend and sped on all fours towards me.

“No!” my mother belted as she sprang to her feet. Sparkling blue light leapt from my mother’s hands and bolted in front of me, and just in time to block the demon creature. He crashed into the light as if it was a brick wall and staggered. “Nancy get out of here!” my mother shrieked as the demon turned his attention back to her.

Fear glued my feet in place. I could not move. The creature leapt across the room towards my mother, who conjured a shimmering shield around herself. The red creature gave the shield one swift punch and it shattered like glass. With a wave of her hand, mother sent a bolt of white lighting straight into the demon’s chest. He faltered but then picked her up and slung her into a wall, where she laid unresponsive. The creature grinned and fell upon her, like she was nothing more than a piece of meat. His snarling teeth tore at my mother’s neck as he began to devour the woman who gave my life. “Mom,” I shrieked again foolishly.

The demon’s head snapped up, he had obviously forgotten I was there. The next thing I knew he was rushing towards me like a wildcat on the hunt. Mother was not there to protect me now. He leapt from the ground and flew towards me. I felt sick, I felt scared. The room started to spin, then to disappear. I felt like I had been snatched up by a giant hand and thrown in a dryer, spinning around and around. The heat of the green flames vanished and was replaced by a piercing cold feeling. My feet hit ground again, and buildings around me materialized.

I looked around and found myself in an alley way. Trash and leaves blew in the wind, creating a rustling sound that made me uncomfortable. I wondered for hours that night, until the cops picked me up and took me to my father.

Our house had burned down, and my mother had “disappeared.” My father however didn’t seem to care, when he heard the news he scoffed and said, “Finally no more love potion, I’m free.” Then he looked at me with disgust, “But I’m still stuck with you.”

We never spoke of my mother again. My father remarried a wealthy woman named Isabelle, and he used her wealth to make more wealth. In two short years, we were very wealthy people. We lived in a penthouse in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. I went to a private school. I had a nanny and maid. But I wasn’t happy. How could I be with my father I was telling me, “I wish your mother hadn’t stuck me with you.” I don’t know if you know this, but it sucks to be unloved.