Witchcraft

Chapter One

Chapter One 

"I got him!" My brother, Conrad's voice is loud in the large home. It echoes throughout the forest, or maybe it just feels like it does.

I am hiding behind a tree, staring at the mansion in awe. I've seen it many times, in fact, when my father and brothers go hunting, they often bring me along with them. When the Barlow Hunting Games occur, Sloan's house is a traditional landmark that I only come to observe. While my brothers, or my father, or some other lucky hunter who manages to arrive to Sloan before us, is indulging in the significance of their kill. 

My other brother, Tyler, yells out an unashamed "whoop!" as he runs out from behind a different tree, and up the creaking porch stairs where I watch him disappear into the house.

Something unsettles within me, as I too have an urge to see my brother's success. Conrad has won the Barlow Hunting Game three times in his twenty-four years. It's an incredible feat, and I am proud of him. Tyler, on the other hand, has not won once, and I believe it is getting to him.

I fiddle with my necklace, which at this point has become a habit; something I do when I'm bored or anxious. It was a simple gold heart with a small diamond in the center of it. It's not the prettiest necklace out there but it was my grandmother's and I haven't taken it off in years. Now, it is my source of comfort when I'm uneasy, and right now I am not calm.

I slowly leave my trustworthy shield of a tree behind and follow both my brothers up the porch steps and into the mansion. A place so old, and unkept. The walls crackle, and all the windows are shattered by hunters who have shot through the glass. The place was sinister and gave me goosebumps, but I did not let that deter me this time. My father wants me to start hunting, he says there is no reason someone of my age can't hunt.

To be honest, I've tried it. Conrad and Tyler both have taken me out before. I've shot a rabbit once, and a grazed the ear of a deer, but I never took in it as an art like the rest of the Barlow hunters. My father refuses to buy meat from another hunter. He swears that meat only tastes good if you're the one who kills it. I never told him that I find no accomplishment in killing my meals, really, they taste no better than if some other hunter had killed them.

Of all the years I have attended my brothers and father on their hunting trips for Sloan, I have never actually seen the body of the man himself. I have never been fearless enough to even step foot into the house, let alone see him face-to-face.

Today is different. I am twenty-three, I have not been a child for a long, long time. I have no reason to fear the man. Besides, he is cursed, not a curse.

My brothers both surround Sloan, and I slip myself between the both of them so I can get a good view of the body.

He is much different than I pictured him. Despite him being still in his twenties, Judas Sloan looks as though he has lived a multitude of lifetimes. His right eye has been shot out by Conrad's bullet, and a thick puddle of blood acts as an iron-scented sheet underneath his head. I take several steps back as the blood slowly inches towards us.

His clothes looked old, not that I expected him to have new clothes, and I noticed, with horror, several dark stains on his shirt, along with several different perfectly circular holes.

He's been killed in this shirt more than once.

Does he not have anything else to wear?

Tyler heaves a sigh, "Poor fucking bastard. What kind of life is this?"

I look over to where Tyler is staring. At the dining room table, sitting on the first chair looking out at all the others, is a discolored skeleton, human remains that I had no doubt were real.