Status: Hiatus, possibly forever.

Witch

Prologue

I am not a witch. They like to think so. It gives them a place to point their fingers. That's what happens when you're born in a predominantly Catholic gated community and you have eyes that change exotic colors, hair so fair it's almost white, and a body that breaks necks.

I embarrass my parents of course. They push me to get good grades, but never too good, and go to church every Sunday, take part in youth group, join church choir, and all kinds of things to try to ward off the "devil worshipper" beliefs. Despite my good-little-church-girl behavior, they still whisper under their breath.

"Witch," they call me. "Devil child. She doesn't belong in this church with us." As a child, I'd sit in the pew and wait for a bolt of lightning to strike me down, or for my body to spontaneously combust for daring walking into a church of God.

But none of that matters. They can talk all they want. I'm a day away from turning seventeen, which means 366 days from being able to move away from Hodgekinson, and away from those that call me names. I'm sure I'll make it. After all, it's not like they can burn me at the stake, right?

Right...?
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I hope you enjoy this. I'm looking forward to posting more and seeing where this all goes. I have a million ideas in my head on where to take this, so if it interests you, subscribe! Plus, this is my JulNoWriMo, my goal being 16,000 words at least so you can guarantee I will keep up with posting. =)
207 words in this prologue.
No offense intended to any type of people, by the way. Not toward Catholic people, those who practice a form of witchcraft such as Wicca or Paganism, or anyone else.