Witch’s wonder, Hell’s hate: Part One

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm Kate and I'm here to leave a quick review!!

First Impression

Well this is an exciting new story here. Lots of really fun elements scattered about in this one and I'm excited to find out more and more about this world. Looks like this one combines some really interesting points judging just from the start. Looking forward to seeing more!

Anyway let's get right to: Kate's Line by Line Reactions;

“Anna? Anna, did you hear that?” A little girl’s voice whispers in my ear.

I open my eyes. I was sleeping so calmly, so peacefully, until Michelle whispered in my ear.

Michelle is a little girl with long, dark brown hair flowing around her pale face. She likes wearing gowns with bows and bows in her hair. Right now, she’s wearing a pink nightgown and two yellow bows are in her hair. She’s eight years old, and she’s like a a little sister to me.

Which means that she’ll try to wake me up for anything. Even if it’s not particularly important.

“What are you talking about? Go back to sleep.” I hiss, covering my face up with a pillow.

But then I do hear it. It’s upstairs. It’s the sound of somebody crawling on the ground, as though they are desperately trying to search for a way out.

The only one who should be upstairs is Leslie, because that’s her room. But then…why is she crawling on the ground?

“You stay right here. I’ll go get the director to check it out.” I say, pushing the covers off of me.

Michelle’s brows furrow with concern, and she tries to follow me, but I speed up and go down the dark hallway most orphans don’t like.

Her footsteps cease to trail after me, and I am left alone in the lightless hallway.[/qoute]

Oooh well looks like she's about to go figure out what's going on here from the sounds of that although with the help of someone a bit higher up. That does seem like a good call.

My Dad opened up this mansion to orphans a few years after my Mom disappeared. I was fourteen then, I’m sixteen now. Yet I still remember the day he opened the doors for other children…

There are many rooms for many orphans, and many places for them to play their games and store their secrets. However, there is just one path where the lamps never turn on, and that is the path to my parents’ room. Dad says that it’s for privacy. I think that it’s true, but that it means more than what he says.

Well looks like an interesting place to be in and quite an interesting occupation there to have. Having a sort of family run orphanage of sorts. It definitely asks a few questions that's for sure.

I run faster down the halls, hoping that I’ll be able to find the outline of my parents’ door. I can’t stay here too long and ruminate on my past, or else…or else what? Leslie probably just fell out of bed, she does that sometimes. I’ve heard her crying at night too. Her room is right above mine, but sometimes she’s loud enough for the other orphans to hear.

I wonder what brought her to cry late at night.

I finally find my parents’ room, and I burst the door open.

“I heard Leslie crawling around upstairs, I think-“

“Crawling? Are you sure you heard that, Anastasia?!” Dad snaps.

Well judging by that response I have a feeling crawling is going to mean something bad that the dad knows. There is no way the response is quite the sudden otherwise.

He’s sitting on the red velvet armchair, his head propped up with his left hand. His brown eyes are etched with worry, and it seems like he’s going to crumble away any moment.

“Y-yes.” I stutter. I don’t want to bother him, as it seems like he’s not in a particularly pleasant mood, but Leslie could be hurt or worse, and I can’t just leave her upstairs with her descending, spiraling thoughts.

“I’m not sure if I can care for her right now. Go upstairs and check on her.” He says in a withering, wavering voice.

Well looks like the dad despite the shock when he first heard it isn't actually going to be doing anything to help. Also looks like he is definitely not in a helping mood at the moment. That certainly complicates matters.

[qoute]He doesn’t want to come upstairs? But he was there for the orphans ever since he opened up the mansion! Why doesn’t he want to check on her now? Why is he asking me to do it? I know and love Leslie, but I never calmed anyone down from a crying fit. What if I can’t help her? What if I disturb her?

“You’re better at talking to them than me.” I say, hoping that those words will change Dad’s mind.

It doesn’t. Dad still sits on the chair, his face slumped on his hand.

So I close the door behind him and make my way down the hall yet again.

I’m not running up the stairs, I’m floating. I inherited my witch powers from Mom, but we only did a few basic spells together. She said that she was going to teach them to me one day, but she never did.

I float up the stairs because it’s faster than running, and when I get to Leslie’s door, I slam it open with my powers.

She’s crawling all around the floor, her dark brown eyes wide with terror. Her dark brown hair is splayed all around her face, and her peach nightgown is covered with mud stains. Yet hanging from her neck is a silver heart-shaped locket adorned with red rubies.

I can’t hear what she’s muttering under her breath, but I land on the ground and try saying her name.

Leslie doesn’t respond. She continues crawling on the ground, that locket dangling from her neck.

Where did that locket come from? Did she look in the chest? Why did Dad put her room up in the attic when there’s so many other rooms in the mansion? Is the locket doing this to her? Should I take it off?

I focus on using all of my energy, my desperation, my hope, and I try channeling it all out of my hands in what I imagine to be magical smoke. I need to get that locket out of her neck. I have to get rid of it.

But I only know how to float and do a few tricks. My magic comes out in thin, purple-ombré colored sparks that do absolutely nothing to help her.

So I run up to Leslie and grab her, trying to find the clasp that keeps the necklace locked on.

She won’t let go of me. She’s scratching my hands, and now that I’m close to her, I can hear what she’s muttering:

“They took my mother They took my mother They took my mother They took my mother TheytookmymotherTheytookmymotherTheytookmymotherTheytookmymotherTheytookmyMOTHER!”

Oh god. I hope that the children didn’t hear. Why can’t I just yank it off? Why is she fighting me? What’s going on with her? She’s the oldest orphan, the one who is the same age as me, she’s my friend, and yet…

She’s acting like a shadow of herself. A character with their traits laid out bare.

I’m not going to stop until I get it off her neck. Dad always said to keep trying until I finally got what I wanted, until I finally reached my goal. If he can run an entire orphanage with just me helping him out from time to time, then I can get this locket off.

I try, Leslie scratches, I try, Leslie scratches, I keep trying and trying and trying, Leslie keeps scratching and scratching and scratching, I have to get it off, I have to help her, I have-

Everything around us is melting in a cascade of glittering rainbow colors. I’m not holding Leslie anymore, and I can’t feel the ground beneath me.

I’m sitting on a dirt ground that is covered with scattered leaves. All around me are trees with bare branches twisting their way towards me. The moon is hanging high and full above the landscape, and I can, very clearly, that I am in the woods.

But where is Leslie? What kind of magic took me to the woods? What’s going on?

I stand up from the ground and brush the leaves off of my baby blue nightgown and trudge on, my white socks no doubt already sporting splotches of dirt.

My heart is racing within my chest, but I ignore it. My frantic heart means nothing to me when Leslie is out there, with the locket doing Heaven knows what to her. There’s other people that need taking care of, and if I stop for myself, then they’re going to be hurt in ways that no one can save them. Dad has said those words to me ever since I was little, long before our mansion became an orphanage, and as I walk out into our town every day of my life, I make sure to note how fortunate I am, to never take anything for granted, and that whatever I worry about is nothing compared to what the poor have to live with.

I wish I knew where I was going, though. I wish that my witch powers were helping me pinpoint the way. I keep on walking, hoping that I’ll be able to find Leslie, but there’s nothing. No strand of cotton from her nightgown, no echoes of her screams. Nothing.

Except, there isn’t nothing. There’s a silhouette walking towards me, and I keep on walking.

Who is that? Why are they in the woods? Can I be sure that it’s human? What-

“Are you looking for someone with a locket?” Prince Joseph asks.

Because the silhouette that was walking towards me, that was standing right in front of me, is none other than Prince Joseph himself.

The moon shines on his dark brown skin as though he’s surrounded by an ethereal white glow. His rust brown eyes are glittering like an old, dust-speckled object that still has some grandeur to it. His black hair curls around his face, and he’s wearing a button-up crimson shirt, pants, and a matching cloak. His black boots are what stand out from his heart-red outfit. If I squint hard enough, the moonlight makes him look like an angel.

He’s just a royal, Anastasia. Nobody special. Ask yourself, how does he look so vibrant? He’s supposed to be sick. Pace yourself. Be careful with who you interact with.

I certainly did not expect Prince Joseph to be in good enough condition to be standing here right now. A few months ago, he contracted a deadly illness but survived by a miracle. It was heard all around town by the royal knights on horseback: “The Prince is saved! He is healed! It will take time, but he will be fit to rule soon!”

What perplexes me even more is how he knows about Leslie. He’s the town’s Prince, and he’s known to do good things, but so what? He’s only showing a facade for the town. He has to appear pleasant if people want to like him. That goes for anybody who wants to conquer the world with their money and power.

“How do you know about that?” I ask. I know that he’s the Prince, and that I just met him, but I still feel a faint feeling inside of me that says: Don’t be too rude.

He looks behind him, his eyes holding hints of terror, then he turns back towards me and says in a low voice, as though he wants to be sure that I’m the only one who can hear him:

“My mother made a silver heart-shaped locket with red rubies a few years ago. She’s enchanted it with dark magic. You believe in magic, don’t you?”

I nod, but I don’t understand. He and his mother are Prince Joseph and Queen Lanria. They’re royalty. They don’t need magic because they have all of the riches that they could ever dream of, all of the riches that anyone would go mad for.

So why use magic?

“You know how my mother disappeared one day? How the Kingdom is still searching for her? How I’m left to rule? You’ve heard about it, I’m sure. Well, I think that she left for some place horrid and forbidden. I think that she left the locket to be found. I think that she’s going to harm whoever has the locket. I think…”

Prince Joseph swallows hard, then he says:

“I think that she and the locket girl are going to Hell. I think that my mother is going to do something unholy to her. I think that we should go down to Hell.”

We? We? Why does he think that we should go to Hell? Why does he believe that his Mom is evil?Why does he believe that his Mom is evil? I haven’t seen her after she disappeared, but wouldn’t she have left for personal matters involving the Court? Wasn’t it not a big deal?

Why on Earth should I trust him?

Because he knows about your friend. Because he can help you save Leslie. Don’t you want to confide in those rust-brown eyes?

“You’re going to help me find my friend, right? My friend with the locket?” I ask, just to be certain.

Prince Joseph nods. His eyes aren’t intense at all, they’re calm, like the shades of autumn on a tree’s leaves. They are comforting and familiar, like a space of blankets and pillows of which one could fade away into.

Again, you only just met him. If anything goes awry, you RUN. Try not to get too lost in Hell. Come back home in one piece. You can’t have Dad losing another one of his loved ones, can you?

But I also don’t want to lose Leslie. It’s not like I feel like it’s a requirement to find her, even though it most certainly is my job. The very thought of living my life without her to read stories with, to ponder over life with, to sneak a bite of cookies with, leaves a twisting knot in my heart, a knot that threatens to squeeze my heart so tightly that the rest of my body will bleed.

I love all of the orphans. I’ve only known them for a few years, but their presence has filled holes of me that I didn’t know were there. Leslie is one of the two orphans I’m particularly close with, the other being Michelle. Leslie is the only one my age, yes. But she’s also the only one who knows about my powers. She’s the only one who knows about my Mom.

I can’t lose her.

“Then I’ll go to Hell with you.” I say, hardly believing in my own sentence. It sounds like something a person with a death wish would say.

“Very well then. Take my arm, and I’ll lead you to the door.” Prince Joseph says, offering his right arm to me. He’s still whispering, even though he doesn’t have to. We’re the only ones in the woods…right?

I don’t think too much on it and loop my arm around his. There’s no time for questions when Leslie might be somewhere in the unforgiving flames, feeling the wrath of an undeserved damnation.

Prince Joseph leads me down the moonlit woods, keeping his arm firmly looped around mine. There’s no turning back, no second thoughts.

It’s off to the bowels of skin-searing Hell we go.

great read.

great read.

hello hello fellow writer! Happy review day! It is me, Sky and once again i have stumbled across an amazing piece that deserves a review! Let's get into it shall we??

okay but first honestly why has no one seen this yet??? EVERY piece you write deserves to be read by EVERY PERSON IN THE WORLD.
and yeah you better believe it that when you make the second part, I WILL READ IT.

I love the name Anna! It's such a sweet name! I also love how this story is written in first person! It's one of my favorite perspectives to read!

Already here from this sentence I'm guessing Michelle is a ghost

Michelle is a little girl with long, dark brown hair flowing around her pale face

It’s off to the bowels of skin-searing Hell we go.