I laid awake on the soft bed at midnight, mulling over the events of the day. One event in particular. On the bed next to me, Hester snored softly next to me, her face calm and composed, lost in the world of dreams, free from the chains of love. Unlike me. I replayed the moment over and over again in my head, tears dripping down my cheeks.
𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳. 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦. 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘏𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘵. 𝘖𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵.
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦.
𝘐'𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘹 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵. 𝘈𝘴 𝘏𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯. 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥-𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘴.
𝘞𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘜𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘛𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘈𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵. 𝘏𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮-𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘺-𝘥𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘚𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘕𝘰, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯. 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘴, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘴, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘴.
𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘐'𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦. 𝘈𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭. 𝘐 𝘥𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥.
𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘏𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘏𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭.
𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘏𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥.
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A Witching Of Time [COMPLETED]
FanfictionHester and Anadil are the Sheriffs of the Woods along with Dot now. They believe they're done with The Tale of Sophie and Agatha, only to find that they've stumbled into another...of their own.
![A Witching Of Time [COMPLETED]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/233558822-64-k218694.jpg)