Chapter 1
Once upon a time, the people of Newington grew restless, and were not always that way, for the town was known for its peace and prosperity. The kids grew more of a bothersome, and their irritated parents became extra aggressive with their discipline. Farmers increased food prices, students started to become lazy with their work, and the guards all stood in place, alert and ready to attack anyone who dares to disrupt their town. No one knew why or how these behaviors were happening - except for one person.
There lived, in a small farm in the middle of the meadows, a little girl and her grandmother. The two were commonly legendary for their crunchy vegetables, hand grown with their bare hands and hard-earned effort, on their farm. It was the little girl who knew why the anxious people were acting this way. Little did they know, and they did know little, no offense, that the 2 females kept a secret. A big, huge secret. A secret no one was allowed to know, and could believe for they would rebel immediately, and have them hanged by the ropes on their necks. The little girl could see visions - images so clear and so accurate, she always knew what was going to happen next. There were the visions of the future, and they told this little one that something, something very bad was going to enter her hometown, and chaos would destroy them all. Unfortunately, as the little girl informed this to her grandmother, the old lady sighed with wistful sadness, and told the little girl, ignore these damn visions of yours, sweetheart, they shall only ruin your soul and mind. But the girl could not, she could not make these terrifying pictures go away - they showed too much and she was afraid: disorder in her town, fires burning everywhere, the agonizing screams for help of her friends and neighbors as they ran down the dark streets, the blackened hand of her own grandmother reaching for her as their home burst into flames. She could only tremble with fright. But how can she stop this? This nasty and violent future? There was only one answer: to go see the sorceress or the witch of Newington as they all called her for her mysterious magick and healing herbs. The little girl sneaked out of her cozy home, not knowing she would never come back, and would never see her dear grandmother as she continued on her journey to the witch's place, her small figure under a dark cloak disappearing as the night owls hooted with woeful cries, watching with knowing eyes.
The little girl stood at the ominous entrance on the stone steps, a tiny peephole in the middle of the large brass door. She was waiting at the witch's home, a grand castle with stones bigger than the small child in size, and her tiny heart shook with fear. Hovering crows perched among the black fences around the castle, staring at the little girl with dark, gleaming eyes. With a trembling fist, she knocked on the door, and could hear the echoes from inside the silent home. It was not silent anymore as she heard footsteps coming closer to the door, closer and closer and she held onto her cloak for dear life until they suddenly stopped. There was no more. The little girl breathed raggedly, and whimpered when a dog barked gruffly and a crow cawed menacingly from behind. Then, the gold knob turned slowly and noiselessly, and she held her breath. First, there was a tiny narrow slip of darkness when the door creaked open, and she exhaled in relief, someone finally answering the door. Until she noticed a glassy white eye staring at her, unblinking, and she gasped, as she felt cold hands grab her arms and pull her into the lonely darkness, never to be seen again, never to see the sunlight for a second time.
"Ohh, Vivian! Aiden! Thorn! Nolan! It's time to eat!" My mother's voice howled down the hallway to the living room, where my three siblings and I sat in the middle of the carpet, watching a cartoon show about a witch and a little girl. My mom walked in with a rag in her hands, and she sighed at the sight in front of her.
"Children, stand up, and ready the table! Your father is about to arrive, and he would be very angry if he did not see the table set once he comes in."
"Oh, let him wait, Mother," Vivian said, rolling her eyes. "He needs to know what it feels like to be waited on. Hmph."
"Dear! You cannot say that about your father! You're lucky he wasn't around to hear that."
"Yeah, Vivian, or he'll smack the buttocks off your...BUTT!" Aiden exclaimed, snorting laughter, and Nolan guffawed loudly as I made a disgusted face at them, and Vivian threw a pillow at them. I was the oldest of them all, seventeen, as they were triplets, each fifteen, and always arguing about the useless things in life, which I tended to not jump into. This was also why my mother chose me to take charge. She always did.
"Thorn, be a sweetie, and tell your siblings to get dinner ready," She looked at me with an insistent look. Instead, I stood up and walked to the kitchen to set the table.
"Thank you, Thorn!" My mother called to me, and lowered her voice and with discipline, said, "Why don't you three be like your sister, hm? Then you wouldn't be in so much trouble all the time."
"Me? Be like Thorn? Please," Vivian's bitter voice said, and I wrinkled my nose in discomfort. How could anyone stand her, with a voice like that? Of course, she was the dramatic of us all. I shook my head as I placed the silverware in their rightful places, the napkins folded perfectly.
"But, Ma, I'm a boy, I can't be like Thorn," Aiden whined, and Nolan echoed yes. "I'd have to wear ugly long skirts, and have tangled long hair!"
"Shh, don't say that! You know Thorn is sensitive about the way she looks!" Mother whispered unhappily, and my siblings snickered. I looked down at myself. Was I that horrendous? I didn't look too bad: my ebony colored hair was down to my waist, along with my white blouse and light brown skirt. I looked into the mirror on the kitchen wall, and into my eyes, the color of sea green. I'm just different, I thought to myself confidently. I sighed and finished the job with a clank of the glass cup on the table. Then the door opened, and my father entered, his boots thumping against the wood floor, the cold wind whistling in as he shut it closed.
"I'm home!" He yelled, his deep voice shaking the entire house. Well, it felt like it did. My father walked into the dining room, and spotted me right away.
"Father," I nodded, and he tipped his imaginary hat in reply, smiling. He came closer and pulled me in for a huge teddy bear hug.
"How's my little Thorn?" He ruffled my hair, and I laughed, pushing him away. He always made me feel better with his wide hugs, and I was grateful as I smiled up to him.
"Bob, you're home!" My mother scurried into the room, my siblings trailing along and she kissed him on the cheek. "How was work, dear?"
My dad took off his checkered flannel jacket, and sat down roughly in his chair, sighing. "Not bad, there weren't as many jobs as last autumn, but the boss didn't mind. Plus, with the way the weather is acting up? Winter is going to be one heck of a ride, kids."
"Daddy, you're working too hard." Vivian said, and poked her skinny finger at my dad's large hand. "Look, you have tiny splinters all over!" My brothers winced, and my dad smiled reassuringly, patting Vivian's hand.
"This is called hard work, Vivian, and you're going to learn about it soon enough because it is what will lead you to be an adult," His voice was soft and gentle, but the meaning of his words were meant to be memorized and learned, so the four of us all nodded, understanding. Then he patted his stomach, grabbed a fork and spoon in each hand, and smiled brightly.
"All right, I'm starving. Let's eat!" We cheered, and my mom hurried into the kitchen to plate the food. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door. I stood up, as my father wondered aloud who that could be, and looked through the window, spotting a glimpse of dark brown hair and a mustache, and I knew it was a male.
"Dad, it's a man with a mustache! Do I let him inside?" I called, and he yelled back, "Sure!" So I opened the door to meet a tall and striking young man, dressed in a gray suit, who smiled politely at me, as I gawked at him.
"May I come in?" His light, teasing voice was muffled from the glass screen door, and I hurriedly held it aside for him as he stepped through the threshold.
"Thank you, my lady," He bowed his head in thanks, and took my hand gently, kissing the top. I stood like a statue, not daring to move, as I stared at him with wide eyes. Who was this man? And why was my heart beating so quickly? I barely knew him! The young male was in the dining room by the time I came to my senses, and I walked in silently, taking my seat, as my father chatted with him happily.
"Ah, so you're the ol' son of Mr. Smith." Mr. Smith was my father's supervisor, and they had known each other ever since I was born. Our families had occasionally gone out to lunch together in the past, and I had not seen a boy with brown hair among us at the time, that I was certain. I listened as Mr. Smith's son carried on.
"Yes, sir, I was in France for my studies and I wasn't able to meet you and your family. For that, I apologize." He said, and my father barked with a laugh as the rest of my family smiled as always when my father hooted his laughs. I could see with a sideways glance that Vivian was probably batting her eyelashes at the man, her sights set for him who appeared out of nowhere. Joy.
"No, no, it's all right. Come, you shall dine with us until our stomachs burst with bliss! Minerva, go get another plate and some silverware! Tonight shall be a feast!" My mother dashed to the kitchen, and my father turned to me. "Thorn, let me introduce to you, Mr. Smith's son, Donovan, who's just a couple of years older than you. Donovan, this is my oldest daughter, Thorn."
We looked at each other, and I smiled thinly. I could feel the cold glare from Vivian as Donovan grinned back boyishly. I hope my room won't be in disarray the last time a boy of Vivian's expressed interest to me. Mother thought I had had teenage angst then. I didn't want to clean up again, so I grabbed the chance to set up a date for Vivian.
"Mister Smith..." I began to say, unsure of how to call him.
"Donovan, call me Donovan."
I tried to not cringe at the slight purr he had added to his reply. "Donovan, would you like to be shown around the neighborhood? It's quite a sight," I laughed gently, and my father chortled along. Donovan's eyes glimmered with interest, and Vivian was practically seething in her seat with smoke coming out of her ears. I'm helping you, you dummy, I thought grimly and smiled at him, ignoring Vivian.
"That would be very generous of you, my lady," He leaned forward with his hand to me as if to take my hand and kiss it, but stopped when my mother entered with plates of food on each arm.
"Food's ready!" She exclaimed and everyone shifted in their seats with their utensils in their hands, eyes eager and hungry. Well, almost everyone. Donovan merely adjusted his plate and tucked his napkin in his collar, each movement very sophisticated and elegant. Even Vivian, the enchanted queen of the house, was staring with utter awe and respect. I, on the other hand, did not care and was so hungry, my stomach growled loudly as if it was trying to grab the rations itself. I blushed and urged my mother to put the plates down, ignoring the snickers from my brothers as my father swatted at them with his hand. Each of the cuisines was my father's favorite dishes, and he whooped with approval. There was steaming Italian spaghetti with a side of crunchy garlic bread spread with Parmesan cheese, a huge bowl of mouthwatering hot tomato soup, salads of our organic green vegetables, and finally, the big platter of scrumptious potatoes and delicious steaks. Everyone was nearly drooling, even Donovan. My mother sat down proudly for she was the chef of these cuisines. Then my father held his arm up as if he was the host of a big event.
"Dig in, everyone!" He shouted with exuberance and delight, and we cheered along.
"All right, man!"
"Yes!"
"Oh, brother."
"My, my, Miss Oakley, this looks too good to eat!" Donovan said, shocked, and each person laughed, their grinning mouths full of food. I rolled my eyes, and poked his untouched plate with my fork.
"Just eat, and you'll see."
He did with some hesitation, his cerulean eyes widening with surprise, and he continued to eat every bite. I grinned and turned my attention back to my dinner. We continued to devour until our stomachs really did feel like bursting, so my father happily suggested we take a walk around the town, and say, why not show Donovan while we're at it? Vivian jumped up immediately, grabbed Donovan's hand, who made a sound of protest as they passed by me, and rushed out of the house in record timing. I could hear the chorus singing Hallelujah and I looked at my dad, who was staring after the couple with raised eyebrows. I wiggled my own at him.
"How long do you think she'll be at it?" I asked mischievously, and he grinned back.
"For 5 bucks? About a month."
I struggled not to smile as I inclined my head. "Why, a month, Father? I'd say, about 7 week's tops."
He chuckled, and nodded out the window. "You haven't noticed how he was staring at you? I would have too with the way you worked your food back there. Looks like there's going to be competition, eh?" He laughed as I threw a piece of bread at him, my mother smiling as she picked up the dishes.
"Go on, Thorn; take a walk with your brothers. Bob, come clean the dishes with me," She ordered sternly, and turned around to the kitchen, but not before she winked at me slyly. My dad stood up, stretching, and wiggled his hips in a back and forth motion.
"Looks like I'm going to have to give your mother a pleasant gift tonight!"
"Ugh, Dad, I didn't need to know that!" I laughed, shaking my head, and he ruffled my hair as I passed by him. He nodded at the boys, who were splashing each other with water, my mother yelling at them to stop.
"Take care of them, okay?" I replied yes, and he laid his strong hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. "You too, Thorn. You take care too."
His eyes, green as mine, stared down at me with resignation and worry. I gazed back, my mind confused to why he was acting this way. He was always this way, whenever I left the house for an errand or school. As if something bad was going to happen and he couldn't do anything about it but be concerned. Or maybe it was something good. But before I could open my mouth to ask, he had already withdrew his hand, and walked to my mother in the kitchen encircling his arms around her waist as she beamed up at him, both of them staring into each other's eyes tenderly. My heart ached at the touching scene before me. They were incredibly in love with each other, and I watched with envy and joy. Would I be able to find my other half as my mother did? I scoffed, and knew I would not. I did not believe in love, even if my own parents were. It was just pure lust, just attraction to each other. That was what I believed back then and that would be what I would regret the most, not believing in love. Without a final thought, I turned away and shouted to my brothers to hurry up, stepping out of the house and into the moonlight night, the cool air and the dark night greeting me as I closed my eyes.