Chapter 1

My life started when I was fourteen. Before then, my existance went by unnoticed, unimportant, and then, one day, I grew important, I grew vital. I was pretty much ordinary, except to myself. I could see the things I could do better than other people, or what I had more than other people : for example my strength. I could easily kick a wall and leave a dent in it, or break a bone by the just pinching someone's arm. But that wasn't taken into account too much. And then one day, the fat man that was my caretaker was sitting at his dinner while I was doing my homework at the table across from him when he looked up at me and waited for me to stare back. I did that, once I finished out my multiplication.

' What ?' I asked, setting my pen down. He looked happy, much too happy. He had huge wrinkle under his eyes from smiling, and his eyes shown so bright it didn't fit his face.

' There's this offer. They're asking if you can go to this new high school. Love your grades. Want to make you special. They say nobody who ever comes out loses, they make you winners.'

' Where's that ?' I wasn't really interested. No, actually, I didn't really care, as long as I kept the high scores of my grades, I really didn't care whether I stayed or went, but I was pretty fond of the fat man. He was nearly like a father.

' That's up in M., you know, west, over there,' he made a quick gesture with his hand to his right, and I figured he didn't really know where M. was. I twiddled my pen between my fingers.

' They'd take a specimen like me ?' I half smiled.

' I suppose they would, little Grim. I'd miss you though...It's a boarding school.'

' Naw, you wouldn't miss me. You'd be happy. Find a woman, you know. I spoil all of your chances every time.'

' Don't make fun Grim.'

' I ain't making fun, old man. You ought to know me better than that. I kill your chances, and you give so much up for me. It's time I went on my way and left you alone.'

' Who would want that ?' Curtis had a hand full of his belly.

' Just pull off a few pounds. Anyway, as nice as you are, they'll just come to you, all those pretty women.'

' Grimera, you really would want to go ?'

' I don't really care, Curtis. Really don't. But I'm ready to if you want me to.'

' Okay, let's be clear on the reasons you're going to go there--'

' I don't want to know the reasons,' I held up a hand and reached across to pick up a fry from his plate, and I casually ate it, slowly chewing. I shut my math notebook closed. ' Just tell me about the place.'

' Never been there,' he said quietly. I shrugged.

' Know the name ?'

' W.A. Hades High.'

' What kind of name is that, Hades High ?' He didn't answer anything and just stared down at his plate. I didn't say anything else, I was going to look it up on the internet later. The sky outside was already darkening. I stared as the sun lowered behind the horizon and formed plum streaks, and gave rosy cheeks to the heavens. Above, clouds were starting to cover up, and soon, everything would be dark and bleak, even with the green grass which would not be so green but more the color of ashes, or the silver waters which beamed in sunlight and would become the black cold abyss so feared at night. And the moon. The moon would never appear to shape things differently, slightly more friendlier if not eerier. Everything would be dark, without the canopy of clouds. Nothing to light the dark except the yellow lamps in distant houses. Oh boy, that was the night. It varied all the time. As if reading my thoughts, Curtis, stood up and picked up his plate.

' No running around tonight, Grim. You stay right here at home, nice and cozy. Besides, there's school tomorrow, and you want to be up for it, don't you ? First thing inn the morning, I'll tell the principal about that high school. Now off to bed you go.' I didn't look at him as he spoke, and I sprang ligtly to my feet. I wasn't going to argue, there was no point in it. Besides, I could go out without having to put on an argument. I just had to hop out my window at midnight, when he would be snoring and wouldn't hear a thing. I hated to lie to him, do things behind his back, but, I couldn't keep away. It was like the late hours were pulling me in and I liked it. I liked the cool air that went in to my lungs and drowned my body. I liked the feeling of the rain gliding on my pale arms. Everything about it, every aspect of the night lured me in, but it could be so disturbing at times, so dismantling. Well, either way, I went to my room as expected, and left my shoes in front of the door, to pretend I had no intention of going out. How did Curtis know I went out at night ? I didn't really know that. I supposed he might have woken one night and seen I wasn't there. I wondered how his face might have been. Had it been green, or passed by all the colors ? Had he nearly suffocated and had he choked, or had he breathed steadily in and understood ? Whatever his reaction, he wasn't too terrorized by it at present, and spoke about it calmly.

' Good night Curtis, don't fall out of bed.'

' Good night my little Grim. Be sure not to step out of yours,' he said severely. I shrugged and grinned and disappeared behind the door. He might forget and fall well asleep.

Around midnight, I was still not asleep, but in my night clothes, lying under the covers of my bed. I turned to stared at my clock, with the bright numbers. Zero zero one. I thought I could hear Curtis snoring at the other end of the house, fast asleep. Was I just pretending to hear him snore ? Well it sounded real. I threw off the covers and tiptoed to the chair in the corner where I laid my clothes on it. I pulled on those clothes and bundled my pajamas which I let fall on my bed. Then, very slowly, I pulled open the door and stepped out, picking up my shoes and stared down the hall. Every door was shut, and Curtis was indeed snoring somewhere. A gust of wind came from the bathroom. The window must be open, I thought. It was the door on my right. I pulled it open and glanced into it. No, no window was open, it was well shut, but it felt like swirls of wind were in there, dancing among the towels and the bottle of creams and shampoos. The tap was running water, and the sink was nearly full. Curtis, I thought. I shut the tap, and let the water flow away down the drain pipe. But the wind, where did it come from. I wondered if it came from behind the wall, inside, where there was the network of water pipes and heat pipes, and everything. To access it, there was a small plaque that had to be pulled off the wall. I didn't bother. Who care about the wind ? Nobody. I was curious, but I was wasting my precious nighttime, so I drifted away from the bathroom door, felt the gust of wind seep through my socks and run up my body. I went to the living room, down the stairs, and opened a window wide, the sort you have to pull upwards and that have been used so much that they are hard to pull up. There was no breeze. I pulled on my sneakers and stepped outside, throught the window. From under the rose bushes, I picked up a flat of wood and laid it against it. So if ever there was so wind blowing, Curtis could keep on sleeping soundly.

There was no moon, just like I had expected. There was not even a speck a black blue, which was usually there in nights without clouds. But this was different than any other night I'd ever experienced. The air smelled of wet grass and dampness, but it hadn't rained yet, because the grass was still dry. There was something about the earth, in so many crumbs, small and in small mounds, it was all black too, but not the same shades as usual. I picked up a handful and squeezed my hand into a fist. Something trickled. What was it ? The earth was all dry, there was nothing as much as a drop of water that could come out of it. There was no wetness, just the smell or the taste of it that lingered in my mouth and nose.

' What the hell is this ?' I murmured, wiping my arm with my hand, and holding my fingers up to smell it. It didn't smell of anything, but it was too thick to be just water anyway. I shrugged and let the dirt fall to the ground. I jogged toward the small cluster of trees behind the Dead House�"it had been called that way since I was a kid. The Dead House was empty, like it had always been. It was all dust and dirt, broken windows, empty of all furniture for most part. I had never searched it that much, neither had anyone else in the neighborhood. So I leaned against one of the big trunks, staring at a shadow who was darker than the darkness surrounding it. It loomed like one of those big mansions if scary movies. Empty, I said to myself, and hardly believed it. There was probably something left in that house, something from the old owners, and I wanted to see and hear and find., because to me, even dustmites whispered things that no one could ever imagined. They told truths and secrets that no one could ever find. Maybe there was something about the old owners. I laughed at myself in the night. It felt strange and good to laugh in the dark. It sounded like the sound of something evil that would be feared by little children in their tiny beds as they lay wide awake, calling for their 'momma'. Ha ! I was the one being feared. Perhaps when I was a kid, I had been frightened similarly, but the noise might have been from a couple teenagers messing around at night. However, rummaging through my memories, I could remember no time when I had been frightened at all at night. So I wanted to go into that house, and look through it, see what I could to understand what had happened. And there was nothing to stop me. Nothing to stop me at all. As it was, I stepped forwar, my tongue nearly hanging out like an excited wild dog, and my eyes were bright, so I really needed no moon. I sauntered to the building and touched the wall which seemed to screaming a thousand things at the same time, words and sentences, all lost in the past but engraved in the blank walls. I pulled out a tiny torchlight from my pocket and turned it on. The walls were of stone, nothing new. I pushed the creaking door, covered in cobwebs open and I could hear them, the voices, the glass clink. The parlor was quite big, probably majestic once, covered in dust, but under the thick grey coating, there was still specks of gold of some old paintings handing on the walls. And I could see it, the glowing red carpet, the bright lights, the beautiful party dresses, the jewelry on hands and ears and neck and wrists. The silver and golden laughter. Quite a party in fact. The men with their bows and ties, in white shirts and black or navy suits. The music with the small orchestra. As I walked next to a worn out chair and through a dented doorway I could see a chimney, and a chandelier half broken lying on it. But no, the chandelier was not broken, but lit and shining, glowing like the warm fire in the chimney, and some couples discreetly talking, socializing quietly in the slightly more dark room than the rest. Glasses raised to drink to the health of someone. Every room was alive and so dead. I reached a staircase. The first steps were threatening to disintegrate. I went up anyway. The attic was usually the best place for secrets. I could hear voices, whispers, shouts. Anger and calm. Sorrow and joy...the narrow staircase gave off into a narrow hallway, very short, with a door. It smelled of rotting wood strangely mixed with burning green leaves. I shoved the door completely opened, it was only slightly, and there I could see, there was a hole in the roof, and there was the moon. I ran to one side window, completely dirty, my footsteps making the floorboards creak. I rubbed the window with my sleeve. Outside, there was no moon. I looked up at the roof, and there it was, bright as ever.

' Not possible,' I muttered. But after all, most of my life was not possible. I just had to accept that the world wasn't as normal as people claimed it was. I turned to the boxes, which lay in piles on the sides, the middle, everywhere. I might as well look for something, though I didn't know what to look for. I passed my flashlight over some labels. Some said 'dresses' or 'jewelry' or 'toys'...that made me wonder who would leave jewelry behind. I didn't open it, I wasn't interested in that part, I was looking for something else, but what ? Then came the labels 'books on philosophy', 'books on science', 'books on humans', and the last one 'books of the Dark'. The Dark ? Was it like spell books ? The ones witches used ? I laughed at myself, and I opened it. The lid was heavy metal, or at least should have been, but for me, it was like a feather. In it, were blankets, covering the books. I peeled it off slowly.

' Holy Cow !' I flinched, nearly falling backward, but I caught myself on my hand and peered inside. Had I imagined it, or had the person in the cover really nodded towards me and smiled ? But now, it was just a shadow, without face or without clothes. Just a black shape. I picked it up. I was green leather, bound tightly shut. On it was written this : Witch Beginners' Guide. Alright I said. Let's pretend I'm a beginner. I sat myself onto the ground and began reading through the pages.

Hello, witch apprentice. So, you have just found out who you are and are currently studying, or beginning to learn, the trade of a witch. Not an easy job to have chosen. But very rewarding in the end.

How ridiculous that was. I laughed at it. That didn't seem to please the book and it slammed shut with my fingers in it. I withdrew my hand in a quick movement.

' Bloody hell.' I said quietly, but surprised, as a strong wind filled the attic and made the dust swirl. The house seemed to be angry. ' Fine,' I whispered. ' I won't laugh, if that's what makes you so edgy.' Things seemed to calm down to I opened up the book again, and this time, it laughed at me. I raised my eyebrows and glared down at the pages. ' Don't laugh at me.' And I would have sworn the book replied something. Said something like don't tell me what to do or something like that. ' Show me what you want then.' I was just left on the page where I had left off. Alright.

You might want to know a bit more about the history of witches. Here's an account of one of the well known ones : Joan of Arc. Indeed, Joan was a witch as accused, and she did hear voices and though many denied it and many would not believe it, she was one. Joan, however, was a peculiar sort of witch. She was a good witch. There are not many good witches, and the few there are, the so called 'bad' ones destroy them. Witches came into knowledge in the eighteenth century, when immigrants came to New England. That was because with all the illnesses, the 'good' witches wanted to help the sick people. And that begun the witch hunts, because, even with their good intentions, they worshipped no God, but the Dark forces ; for being benevolent, they did good things, still yelding the power of the Dark. They were found in their rytes and hunted, while the malevolent witches did as they wished and were nearly never found or got away.. This is a very brief summary. Yet, witches go back even further, near the beginning of time, when women made pacts with the devil to protect their families.

I shrugged and slammed the book shut before it slammed shut itself on my fingers. Might as well read it at home, I thought. I stood up and chills ran down my spine, like cold fingers trailing down my back, and my hair stood on end, alert. There was a sense of something tugging at me. Something that felt perhaps like fear, but it was something I'd never felt before. Some hand seemed to close in around my heart, grasp the thudding muscle and cool it, freeze it, so that it stuttered and stopped beating for what seemed eternity, but I felt fine, completely fine, and it started beating again, a warmness, like a drink of licor, tingling even my fingertips. Right, let's go home. I began descending, left the box open, left the door open�"no one lived there anyway, and came down the steps two by two. Downstairs, the chimney was still glowing and the people were still laughing and suddenly there was a flash of bright light, of fears and cries and of demoniac laughter and I looked up where all the frightened faces stared. There was a woman, with evil in her yellow eyes, almond shaped. Her hair was bleached blond, swirling in bazarre about her. She seemed like a madwoman, standing on the air, staring right at...me. But it wasn't real, it couldn't be real, this was just an illusion. There was no cocktail party, no fire in the chimney, no people in sophisticated clothes. There was the old house, all worn down and lost forever, with no heir, no one to love it, to live in it to remember its past, and why no one to remember its past ? Because they were all gone. And where had they all gone ? To their grave. And how had they gone to their grave ? All at the same time ? One by one ? Was it at a cocktail party like this one ? No no no and no ! It couldn't be. And the woman, the mad woman who was the least plausible of all, she couldn't be there, she couldn't exist, yet she was glaring at me with her yellow eyes, and her lips were contorted in some strange sort of smile, more of a grimace. Go away, go away, I thought. She wouldn't, she glided closer in the air to me, ever closer. I dodged her, the book firmly in my hand and hit against a grey wall. What was that doing there ? In the room with the people, there was no wall. Still, something invisible would not let me pass, and so I went around, trying to feel my way out. And some hands seemed to be coming at me, but it was that woman, that horrible woman. I ran, hit an invisible wall, fell, picked myself up and ran again. It was a labyrinth. So that's why no one ever comes here, I thought. Because it's so hard to get out. How many people had gotten lost in the illusion and reality world ? I figured it was just me. I ran, dodged people, but they didn't see me, they only saw the floating woman. How could they not see me but she could and was following me ? I did then, the herrendous mistake of my life. I checked it she was still behind me. Anyone running from something did that, run and take a look round to see if they were still followed. And she was there, two inches from my face was hers. And so I fell backward and she towered over me. She smelled of raw flesh, the kind you let in the sun and then there's an army of flies round about it. Her skin looked rough and soft at the same time and so pale, and her eyes. Her eyes which had seemed yellow earlier were darkening to an orange. Get away I thought. I rolled over on my stomach and lurched to my feet, diving through what I thought was the door and landed face first in wet grass, felt the teardrops fall from the sky onto my hair. I lifted my face and wiped my face with my sleeve, putting the book inside my jacket. I looked toward the house. The lights were on, the door was wide open, and there was the woman looking out the window at me. I took a step back and stared back. Now that I could take a good look at her without fear of anything, I could see that her eyes saw nothing. They were blindly watching. I sighed in relief, a sigh that caught in my throat when I saw the blood behind her. I sprinted away, I was going home, and never out again at night. I'd be a good girl and listen to Curtis now. Even when I reached the lane, I still turned back and saw the lights were out, and the house looked the same as ever, silent and old and rusty. I was going to walk away, more calm than before, thinking I was crazy when I saw something. That something was the proof that I hadn't gone mad, the proof that what had happened was perhaps not a dream or illusion at all.

I could clearly see from where I stood that the door was firmly locked closed.

Author's Note

Ok, tell me how it works out, if it sounds good. If you see mistakes, please point them out. Just don't hesitate to leave a review. Next chapter coming up as quick as I can write it.

Reviews

[PurpleQuartz]

The way you wrote this story was brilliant! I felt the emotions of the character so well. It's intriguing and the mystery entwined in it makes me want to find out what's really happening.
I hope the next chapter will be soon.