Weird Dream | Celeste Johnson

Last night I had a weird dream. I was a witch; a witch on the run. Running from bad witches and warlocks. I had only a few friends that I could count on. I went to a house I thought was safe only to find an evil witch had killed most of the occupants (my friends) and was searching for me. They protected my whereabouts. But I dumbly walked into the trap. I took the green, grotesque creature-like witch and killed him. He would no longer bother me. I realized that before I killed him, he sent off some sort of homing or beacon spell; the others were coming quickly. I ran to hide, going up the stairs to the second story. I heard voices from the front entry, traveling to the front room. I realized I didn't have time to hide well. They would soon be wondering where the person was who beckoned them here. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. I got an idea: I could look at my reflection, cast a spell, transform me into the dead foe, hide the body, and walk downstairs like nothing had happened. It was the perfect plan; well not entirely perfect, it had its flaws, but now was not the time to think about it.

I said the words and watched in horror as my face began to morph, appearing like green swamp mud bubbles. After a few terrifying moments of excruciating pain, the reflection in the mirror was the hideous witch. I didn't know the name or gender; I would just wing it, hoping the others don't suspect anything out of the ordinary.

"Whizzy, where are you?" beckoned the others downstairs. "Whizzy, come here!"

I smoothed out my hair - what little there was - and ran down the stairs. I recognized almost all the faces in the front room: Doctor Surrell, Madame Treebaugh, Greeten, Mizruil, and Lanid. The only one I did not recognize was the mad sitting in the corner, sleeping. I didn't want to face these evil ones, they have destroyed my family and everything I have come to love. But my very survival depended on this deception; and the survival of my unborn child.