Whispers from the past: The journey of a witch

“The Memories”

There I was, sprinting through the forest, desperately trying to catch my breath as I relentlessly pushed myself forward. Gripped tightly in my hand was a leather pouch, its surface slick with fresh blood. The weight of it seemed to pull at my very soul as I fled the scene of what I had done.

Emerging from the forest clearing, I refused to slow down. Suddenly, my foot collided with a hidden stone, sending me tumbling head over heels. Despite the fall, I wasted no time in scrambling back to my feet, determination driving me onward towards the safety of my home.

Covered in blood, some of it undoubtedly my own, I burst through the door and raced upstairs before my mother could catch sight of me. Finding refuge in the darkness of my room, I found comfort in its familiar embrace.

With trembling hands, I lifted a tile from the floor, revealing a hidden compartment beneath my bed. Carefully tucked away the pouch, as if handling something sacred, concealing the damning evidence of my transgression.

Stepping into the shower to cleanse myself of the stains that marred my skin, I was met with an eerie silence. But as the water began to flow, whispers seemed to echo in the confines of the bathroom. “Come on… my… girl,” the fragmented voices murmured, sending shivers down my spine.

Unable to escape the haunting words, I stood in silence, tears mingling with the blood that stained my cheeks, a grim reminder of the darkness that lurked within me.

To be continued.