Rachel lay in the darkness of her bedroom, staring wide-eyed at the shadows on the ceiling. She was very glad for the night-light casting a soft yellow glow from its tiny imitation sun. It let her see the shadows so much more clearly.
When she had been brought home, she'd had a lot of questions. She'd tried asking Mommy the first couple of questions, but Mommy didn't seem to know, and started crying, and said Rachel shouldn't talk about things like that. Mommy said that Rachel should forget it all, and just be happy and normal and a good little girl.
Raising her hands slowly, Rachel made sinuous gestures with her arms, things that felt right, yet clumsy, like she knew what she was supposed to do, but needed a lot more practice. She thought in a certain way... and the shadows uncoiled, sending two insubstantial tendrils out to wrap around her arms.
The other children didn't play with her the same way any more. They didn't tease Rachel, or exclude her... but when they played Meisters and Weapons, nobody wanted to partner with her. And everybody would say that they were playing a Meister or a Weapon, and nobody would ever say they wanted to play the Witch, and they would all look at her. She'd never played a Witch before. She looked back at them, then walked away. It felt like her mind would just stop, and suddenly she would see the other kids as... stupid, pointless, boring.
The tendrils had fuzzy edges, vague as smoke. She knew that when she got better, they would be more solid, more real. They tingled a little, felt a little cold. Rachel reached up to the ceiling and let the shadows slide down her arms, smiling in the darkness as they tickled her face.
Rachel could read now. She'd shown Mommy, read her picture books out loud, but Mommy said she shouldn't, which confused Rachel. Adults had always told her that learning to read was a good thing, and told her how important it was, and now Mommy would get upset when Rachel read things. She read all her picture books, and decided they were useless. So she read all the books in the house-sneaking them away and reading them at night, or outside in a tree, so she wouldn't upset Mommy-but they were mostly useless too. They didn't answer her questions.
Round patches of shadow opened up, small holes in the darkness, letting yellow light through. If Rachel squinted, she could see the oval shape, and the little slit in the middle. It seemed like they grew a little more solid, a little more detailed, every night. They were here best friends. She talked to and played with them, they kept her company... and she knew that they would protect her. And in return, she made them stronger.
Rachel had begun to search for books, but very quietly, very carefully. A little voice in her head warned her: if they find out, they will do terrible things, they will look into your mind and then lock you away. The books gave hints of answers to her questions, but she still hadn't learned enough. She borrowed more books, always returning them carefully after reading every word. Most people didn't suspect a little girl of stealing. She wore baggy clothes anyway, easy to hide books under her shirt, but she hated wearing shoes. It upset Mommy... it was another of the things that made Mommy cry, so Rachel was careful not to take her shoes off until she was out of Mommy's sight, and then she would hide them and put them on again before Mommy saw her.
A quiet hum of satisfaction excaped her throat, echoed by soft hisses from the shadows wrapped around her arms. Every day, Rachel had to pretend that she was a normal little girl, had to put on the mask to keep herself safe. But at night, she could play, and think about the questions that always buzzed around in her head...
Where did witches come from? People said that witches gave birth to baby witches, but if that was true, where did the first witches come from? And mommies couldn't make babies alone-so who were the daddies? Could daddies be witches? What if witches didn't really have witch babies, but instead stole other people's babies and made them witches by putting things in their minds? Why could Rachel see glowy things around people now? Why could she see snakes in the shadows? Why wasn't she afraid of the darkness any more? Why did she want to draw arrows all the time?
Snuggled into her blankets, Rachel smiled as she drifted off to sleep, watching the shadows dance on the wall.