Perhaps I'm dead

I'm not quite sure how I got here. It was dark and cold. I tried to move but found myself stuck in place. I couldn't hear a thing, it was as though the world was frozen around me. I tried to open my mouth, to say something, to scream for help, but my jaw stayed in place. I was unable to feel anything, even if I were successfully wiggling my toes, I couldn't tell.

Perhaps I'm dead.

Only when I felt a tear slip from my eye and down my cheek, did I know I was alive. I still didn't remember how I'd gotten here, or even who I was. I'm unsure how long it took, but slowly my body started to come alive. I could feel something inching up my arm. For a moment I wondered what it was before I realized it was a worm.

I can't say I'm unfamiliar with the wriggly things. I had a pet toad for a long time, Hopscotch, whose favorite snack was worms. Then it struck me, who and where I was.

I'm Agatha Booker, and I'm a witch, born in 1921. And now a century later, here I find myself, in a grave. The woman who put me here, Colette, has been trying to kill me nearly my entire life.

When we were younger we'd been thick as thieves. Though that was before she realized I could never be anything but evil. According to society's standards of course. I find I'm rather charming. She thought so too at first. And then I murdered someone. Whoops.

I hadn't done it on purpose, but she thought I was a spawn of evil. And though I must say, I may have proven her right, most of the blood on my hands was by accident.

The day my kill count reached seven she swore she'd spend the rest of her life, trying to end mine. A fellow witch, and past friend, now trying to end my life. I can't say I blame her. Especially not after all I've done.

And though I must say I am saddened by her turning her back on me, I’ve done well on my own. I am a covenless witch, and I fly alone. I didn’t need her then, and I don’t now.

My body had finally woken up from its numb state. I sat up, letting out a small yell when I realized I couldn't. I’m in a coffin, and lack the space to do anything other than lay here. Though it’s risky to cast a spell in this condition, I didn’t have many other options.

I can’t die to my own magic. I can, however, be injured or killed in the aftermath. So if a spell is done incorrectly, it could be fatal. I decided on teleportation. It would cause the least disturbance, and damage, to the ground. Plus I don’t quite know how far down I am.

I relax my body completely, allowing myself to lay uncomfortably on the wooden planks below me. I clear my mind as best as I can as I prepare to get myself out of this situation.

When I open my eyes once more I find I can see again. I can feel a breeze going by. I sit up and look around, my eyes quickly adjusting to the dark of night around me. I’m a nocturnal witch, so I’m glad to see the sun isn’t out. I find I’m always most comfortable when bathed in the moonlight.

I stand, it takes a moment for me to gain proper balance. I wonder for a brief moment how long I was down there. Was it still 1976? I look around at my surroundings, checking over everything. I see nothing out of the ordinary, though I can’t be too careful.

I begin to walk, heading towards the waning moon. I don’t remember what phase it was when I went under. That information could’ve helped me know how long I’d been trapped in a grave. No use dwelling on things I can’t help.

I find myself a large tree branch, ripping it off of the already dead tree. It will make a decent broomstick, at least for the meantime. One quick enchantment later and I’m in the sky. If my internal compass is correct, which it always is, I should be headed north, towards home. Well, I wouldn’t call it home. No place has ever been home since him. But that’s in the past.

It wasn’t too long before I arrived at my small home in the woods. I tossed aside my wannabe broom and walked inside. I was greeted by a thick layer of dust and some poorly done graffiti.

Thankfully there weren’t any squatters, or someone would’ve died today. I looked around my home, clearly having been abandoned for longer than I thought. I suppress a gag when I enter my work room, a lot of my potion supplies have gone bad.

I quickly retreated, going to my room. I found it’d been raided, books tossed around, bedding on the floor, and drawers of my dresser and vanity torn out. I rolled my eyes, already knowing who’d done this.

Colette had a bad habit of stealing magical artifacts from me. Though she always had trouble finding them. I decided to clean myself up as best as I could. I planned to head into town, wanting to figure out what year it was.

Before I left though, I decided to clean up a bit. I dispose of all my spoiled potion supplies, and food. I place all my books back on their shelves. And dust to my heart's content.

I let out a small sigh of relief, finally being able to breathe without inhaling an unhealthy amount of dust each time. I sit on my couch, head in my hands as I take a moment to just process everything.

“You’re alive,” someone said in a monotone voice. I looked up in surprise to find Colette there. “I can fix that.” She grinned, holding up a knife. I let out a sigh and stood up.

“Care for a cup of tea?”