Challenge: Prompt 1 (2024)
Prompt:
On Halloween, a witch kidnaps you. Why? What are they planning to do with you?
DISCLAIMER:
There have been questions in regards to using AI for these. I use spelling and grammar checkers, however the ideas and writing are all my own. I do not use AI to create the prompts or stories.
To my Readers,
I’ve always had a wild imagination. As a child, it was cute. As a teen, it was distracting. As an adult, it makes me… well, I have a small blog and a handful of readers. And you guys have been so incredibly supportive, but I understand my writing makes very little difference in the world, even if I like the little niche I've carved out for myself to call home.
As you know, I write fantasy, mostly. I love building worlds where rules make sense to me because, beyond the obvious, very few in this world make sense to me.
Maybe that’s what got me here: My desire to make, know, and understand the rules. Or maybe the creativity I can't shake has. I can't say for sure. But, can say: I was looking forward to an easy night with my laptop, a spooky movie, some popcorn, and a glass of wine. I like to write while a movie I’ve seen a million times plays in the background. Believe it or not, it keeps my mind on the task at hand.
Tonight, the task was writing the latest addition to my blog’s long running series. The series was inspired by one of my favorite witchy Halloween movies, originally. Then, at some point, it became something so much bigger. It was supposed to be the fiftieth entry in the series.
It's Halloween, so the knock at my door was not completely unexpected. It was later than the trick-or-treaters usually come by, but it's not unheard of to have a few stragglers after 10:00 pm. So I left my laptop and my wine and I walked to the door. I have to pass through my kitchen to get to my door. I had left my candy bowl in there, so I check it for a sufficient amount of candy.
It was severely lacking.
As a matter of fact, it was almost out, so I grabbed a bag of the fruity candies and poured some in. The fruity candy was always the last to go. I like it, so I like to buy an extra bag of it and hold on to it for those late night sugar cravings. If some of it gets taken by trick-or-treaters, all the better. But more than a few kids have complained about the fruity candies in the last few years.
“If you don’t like it, you should go out sooner,” I said, taking a bag of rainbow colored candies for myself.
The knocking got louder and more impatient. I rolled my eyes, closing the gap between me and the impatient monsters that begged for candy beyond my wooden door.
“I’m almost there!” I shouted, unlocking the door.
I opened the door and, for a fleeting moment, I thought I was looking in the mirror. I realized the person staring at me was half my age. Now, I know what you’re thinking because I thought it too. But you would be wrong. I guarantee you have no idea where this is headed.
“Uh, hello,” I said to the girl staring at me. “I assumed you’re not a trick-or-treater.”
“Good, you’re home,” she said. “It was hard to track you down, and I used magic.”
“Um, ‘with magic’? What does that mean?”
The girl pushed past me and into my house. I followed her.
“Um, excuse me,” I said. “This is Texas. That’s dangerous. What are you doing in my house?”
The girl marched into my living room, looking around wildly. She was frantically searching for something. First she lifted the couch cushions, then she tipped my vacuum over saying, "Haven't seen one of these since I was a kid."
I remembered being a teen and how exhausting and confusing of a time it was, but I never marched into someone’s house uninvited. I did have an outburst (or ten), however; I didn't destroy a stranger's house like this kid. I wanted answers from her, but I didn’t want to risk upsetting the stranger in my home. I took a deep breath and checked to make sure I had my pocket knife, in case it came to that.
I keep calling her a stranger, but she's acting as if she met me before, I thought. Maybe she's a fan.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Looking for it.”
“For what?”
The girl walked to my bookshelf and started throwing books from it. Each book hung in the air, its descent halted by some unseen force.
“My book!” she said. “I'm not sure how you got it a hundred years ago, but I need it to get home.”
“What book?”
“The one you wrote like forever ago. Gods, you ancients had more technology, but were a heck of a lot less intelligent.”
The books fell to the floor. I ran to them, picking them up. I put each one back on the shelf, saying, “I honestly don’t—”
The urge to sleep hit hard. My eyelids got heavy. It was hard to think clearly. My knees wanted to bend so I could lie down on the floor and sleep. A yawn came out of nowhere. I took a step and everything went dark.
When I awoke, I was tied to a chair, surrounded by people in flowing black cloaks. Hoods obstructed their faces. Candles burned behind them casting each in an ominous glow. My heart raced.
Where am I? Who are they? Why me? I wonder.
I try to break free from my bonds, looking to see what they are, but they are invisible. I am helpless.
“Help!” I screamed, hoping someone would come. “Help me! Someone help!"
None of the cloaks responded.
What is it they tell people to shout for attention? I thought. Oh, that's right, curse words make people look!
"F—"
My scream was cut off. I continued to move my mouth trying to say things, but no sound came. Silent tears ran down my face. Fear coursed through my veins. I had no way out. No way to reason. I had no way of knowing what they were going to do to me, but it could not be good.
Who am I to them? I wondered. What do they want with me?
“I think you messed up the spell,” one cloak said to another.
“No, she’s the Great Witch. She has to be,” said another cloak pointing to something in a massive and aged book. “She looks like her.”
“‘The Great Witch’,” said a third person, “More like ‘The Great Screw-Up.’ I am impressed you did it again though. No idea why the magic chose you.”
“Turn the lights on,” said the first cloak to the ceiling, walking away.
The brightness of the overhead lights was almost too much for my eyes to handle. Tears formed and I blinked them back, watching for my chance to escape. The tears didn't stay at bay long. The began to fall. Whether they were tears of fear or because the light was hurting my eyes, I couldn’t say. Regardless of reason, their reactions to my tears was odd.
“Oh no. We’ve made her cry,” said the first cloak, pulling her hood down.
In the light, I could see the cloaks were a deep plum color rather than the black I had thought. For some reason, this little fact gave me some relief, but it did. I found more relief in the fact they were all taking their hoods off now. I would have faces to give the police when I escaped these rascals.
“Don’t cry,” said the teen who had invaded my house. “I’m Marceline. You know me.”
“She doesn’t know you, yet, moron,” said another teen girl removing her cloak. “I’m sorry about her, I’m Astor. You’ll meet me in… how old are you?”
I tried to speak, but no sound came. Panic rose up, but I tried to stifle it hoping not to startle them too much so they would let me go. I've seen the news. I've seen what some teens are capable of and I didn't want to find out if they were capable of those horrors too.
“Alistair, take the spell off her,” Astor said. "My brother didn't cast it, but he's the strongest sorcerer I've met. Impressive for seventeen, no?"
Alistair lazily waved a hand while he spoke to some other cloak wearers.
“Can I talk now?” I said. "Testing, testing one, two. One, two."
My own words were music to my ears. I cleared my throat, took a deep breath, and intended to scream a curse word at them.
"TW—" My words were cut off again.
"Now, see, if you're gonna scream, we can't talk," Astor said.
"And I'd like to talk to you," Marceline said. "I never got to meet you."
I sighed, then angrily mouthed, 'Fine!'
Astor was the one to wave her hand this time and I got my voice back.
“What do you want with me?” I asked.
“How much do we tell her?” Marceline asked.
“Nothing!” Alistair shouted. “You’ve already told her too much. You were supposed to get the book quietly, not kidnap The Great Witch of her time. Do you understand that?”
Alistair walked to Marceline and Astor, shaking his head with disappointment. Marceline nodded meekly, looking at her feet as she rocked on her heels. Astor crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes like a defiant teenager. This is when it dawned on me how young all of them were. They couldn’t be much older than sixteen or seventeen. ‘The Witching Age’ as I had come to call it in my blog.
"Good. You two are unbelievable. First, you tear out the pages, Marceline. Next, you lose them, Astor," Alistair scolded.
"I didn't lose them," Astor said. "I just forgot where I put them."
"And the summoning spell didn't work," Marceline added.
A 'summoning spell'? I thought. They must not know how to use one right. Maybe the rules of magic in this world are similar to that of the world I created.
“Can I ask y’all some questions?” I asked.
“No!” they all shouted.
“I think it's time to consult the stars,” Astor said. “My twin knows he messed up and he’s trying to cover his butt. He just wanted us to live comfortably. I get it, but I kind of like the chaos.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
Astor shrugged, saying, “Sometimes I want to watch the world burn.”
She snapped her fingers and a fireball ignited in her palm.
“Don’t scare her, idiot,” Alistair said, putting out the fire with his sister's cloak. "I'm sorry about her, but you're like my idol, so I'm trying to put you back."
His brown eyes were full of panic. I was hoping to use both his fear and adoration to my advantage.
"I would enjoy that," I said, willing my heart to stop racing in my chest. "Maybe we can have a sit down sometime and dis—"
“Are you even sure she’s the one we were looking for. She’s ancient and she can’t even break a simple spell,” another of the teens said.
“I’m sure. She looks like the picture.” Alistair held up the photo I use for my blog bio in a book. “See? So why is she pretending not to be the author.”
“Hi, okay, captive here,” I said. “Give me a minute to talk.”
They exchanged looks, so I kept talking.
“I haven’t written a book yet. I have a few I’m working on. I’m thinking about turning my blog into a book and maybe, maybe, creating a grimoire to go with it. Is that, maybe, what you’re talking about?”
The teens closed in on me, but I wasn’t going to stop going without getting it all out there.
“I gather you’re from the future,” I said.
“Who told you that?” Alistair demanded.
“Marceline, sort of.”
“Marceline!” they all said as if it was rehearsed.
Marceline looked at her feet again, her cheeks turning bright red. I felt a bit sorry for her. I was the teen screw-up too. I wanted to tell her, ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll grow out of it. I did.’ but getting out of here and back home was more important.
“Oh my gods, you guys, there’s a footnote forming,” Alistair said.
“We have to put her back,” Astor said, panicking. “Marceline, it was your mistake, you fix it. Someone get her a broom.”
“Wait, wait,” I tried.
It was no use. They had devolved into chaos.
“Listen!” I shouted.
They froze like scared children.
“I need answers,” I said. “Before I go, you have to tell me what you’re looking for and why? If nothing else, I can probably point you in the right direction.”
“Someone ripped pages out of your grimoire,” Marceline said. “Only two are left. This is one. I stole it from… well… from you. The only way to undo what I’ve done is with the original tome and caster.”
“So I’ll print more copies when I finish it in my time,” I offered.
“That won’t work,” Alistair said. “They burned all the copies intentionally. They burned all the grimoires and tomes and ancient writings of magical folk. Marceline’s mom had the one she stole. It was passed down from The First Great Witch, who wrote it, to Marceline's mom.”
“Where’s the other?” I asked.
“That’s the thing,” Marceline said, “The summoning spell was supposed to bring the other copy to me, but it didn’t.”
“Have any of you seen the other copy?”
They shook their heads.
"We only know about the second copy through rumors," Alistair explained, "and we haven't exactly looped in our parents on what's happening."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because they're gone," Marceline's voice cracked. "We came back and-and..."
Marceline broke down in sobs. Astor pulled Marceline into a hug. Alistair approached me.
"Why did you write our weaknesses in the grimoire?" Alistair asked through tears.
He was acting like a leader to these teens, but he was a scared kid too.
"If anything I wrote is true, there are dark and terrifying things in this world that must be stopped by people with goodness in their hearts," I said, not fully believing my own words. "Some of those things are like you. And the only way to stop them is knowing their weaknesses."
"How does that help us?" Astor demanded.
"If you understand your weaknesses, you can fortify yourselves."
"Lotta good that did our parents," Alistair snapped. "You wrote the book. You can fix this. All of it. Why didn't the summoning spell work?"
“I might be able to explain what happened,” I said, thinking about one of the early posts I wrote. “In my blog, I wrote about a witch being sent back in time to retrieve an item. There was a rumor two were left, in her time, but the knowledge of the second item had been lost to time. The summoning spell doesn’t work because it's not really a summoning spell.”
“Then what is it?” Astor asked.
“A memory spell. It uses memory to find the item and bring it forth.”
“And if the knowledge is lost,” Alistair said. “It sends you to the last person who knew. So you told no one where it was.”
“Exactly.”
"Why can't I find the pages Marceline tore out?" Astor asked.
"Did you tell anyone where you put them?"
Astor shook her head.
"Did you do the summoning spell?"
Astor nodded.
"Then I'm sorry to tell you, they got destroyed."
"How?" Marceline asked.
"I don't know that."
"Why did it bring me to you?" Marceline asked.
"I'll tell you, but only if you release me."
The teens exchanged looks. I looked directly as Alistair and put on my best sad-mom-face. He sighed. He waved his hand and I was freed of my bonds. I stretched my arms and legs, getting the circulation going again.
How long have I been here? I wondered.
"You have to stay in the chair so I can keep an eye on you," Alistair said.
"Okay," I said.
"So tell us why the summoning spell brought Marceline to you," Alistair said.
"It would appear that I am the first and last person alive to have that knowledge. I bet your footnote'll tell you. I have a feeling I never had kids. I made a special copy and passed it to my sister."
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Marceline asked.
"I've always had a theory that time is circular. You can move back in time until you go forward and forward in time until you go backward. New circles can be formed at pivotal moments, but you can never return to the old circle. When two pivotal moments strike, connecting them, it forms a helix which can never be undone."
"So the night Marceline arrived was a pivotal moment here and there," Alistair said, "which means we can take you back to that moment and change this future from the time Marceline left."
"But we can't change anything before that?" Marceline asked.
"I'm sorry," Astor said, hugging Marceline again.
Alistair looked at the grimoire again and smiled.
“The footnote is about us,” he said. “Look! And the front is changing too.”
He showed the other teens. Their fear turned to smiles.
"Marceline, that's you!" Alistair said, pointing to the photo that had once been just me.
Marceline and I were smiling at the camera.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
After that, Marceline took me home.
"Can I stay with you?" she asked.
I nodded, saying, "I think that was what was meant to happen all along so we can make a code only your friends can understand."
It wasn’t exactly how I planned to spend my Halloween, but the moral of the story is: Enjoy the leftover candy and ignore the stragglers or you might be kidnapped by a bunch of teenage witches who tell you way more than they’re supposed to and change the entire trajectory of your life.
Just kidding!
There is no moral to this story, it just needed to be shared so y’all know why I’ll be taking a break from my blog. I'm writing the grimoire to hide it in someplace only those kids will be able to translate.
Thank you, fans, for your understanding and I'll finish my story as soon as I can.
Also, if you want to learn more about what happened before I showed up, check out Marci's blog: The Last Great Witch.
Sincerely,
The First Great Witch
(I think)
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