🏷️ Tunniste: witches

A thunderstorm raged over the sea. A storm was approaching. Behind her lay the forest… and a monster. There was nowhere left to run. Anna came to the edge of the cliff; below, the waves thrashed wildly against blade-sharp rocks. For a moment, her mind flashed with images of her fall… and then—nothing.

“I am Anna Amridge.”

“Enough waiting! I’m not afraid of you! Show yourself.”

“I know you’re there!” Anna took a decisive step and peered into the forest’s shadowy depths. Somewhere in that darkness a pair of hungry eyes watched her—the very thing she feared most.

From the trees emerged Richard; he fell to his knees.   “Anna, help me!”

“Richard! My God, what happened? Did that creature attack you? Are you hurt?” With those words, she rushed to him without hesitation, embracing him and checking for injuries.

“Anna… listen to me! Don’t wait… run…” His face was etched with panic, as if he had urgent words to say.

Anna cupped Richard’s face in her hands.   “I will never abandon you, Richard. Not now, not ever. I love you.”

He felt her lips brush his and a wild hunger stirred within him—a desire to taste her… the taste of blood.

“No, you don’t understand who I am! Anna, please—run, right now.”

“What are you saying? Why are you pushing me away? Richard… I don’t understand.”

“I… I love you, Anna. Just know that. Those like me don’t choose who they are. You must accept me. Please.”

His gaze lifted to the sky; his hand pointed to the moon, which shone like a second sun through the darkness—full and bright.

Chapter I

Not every forest has a witch, but every witch has a forest. Sometimes they live there, but other times not; a city witch or warlock might be perfectly content to visit the forest only every month. After a long few weeks of breaking into the blood bank for some occasional rations, of charming rats to climb up to sip from people’s drinks and then spit them in her glass for a refreshing cocktail, and of climbing trees at night to reach the greatest possible height for some restorative moonbathing, there’s only so long witches and warlocks can wait before heading back to the forest to commune with Mother Nature from whom their powers emanate.

But if the forest is so much healthier for magic people, why don’t they live there all the time? Only for the same reasons that a human doesn’t live in the woods: it’s harder to get access to good-quality candy and chocolates, of course. While witches’ and warlocks’ powers extend over many domains, creating satisfying confections has proved a perennial difficulty for all but a few because most of their hearts are so rotten and withered that a spell cast for the sake of delight falls short in all but the most isolated cases. In fact, the reason most get so weary and grumpy past a certain age is that they spend all their energy trying and failing to make a perfectly normal chocolate bar, no better than the ones you can buy at the corner store for one or two dollars, or else some other treat, such as nougat or cotton candy.