(Josie Sayz: I have had the idea to write a story called ‘The Warlock of Warstock’ for around half of my life. I have had a lot of fun starting this. Currently, I am not too sure where to take this, but I do like it!)
Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled. Precipitation poured. Wood creaked, as a man, with dark rimmed glasses leant back in his chair. Glancing over his spectacles, he peered out of the window and observed the village scene below. Engines roared, as cars raced down roads. A shrill squeal echoed through the howling of the wind, as children splashed in puddles. The added rumbling vibration, of the bus, hovering outside his front door, caused a snarl to line his face. Exhaling a deep puff of air, through gritted teeth, he clenched his left fist. A blast of lightning zigzagged through the ominous sky. A crack hissed, from the distant park. Screams sounded. Smoke billowed into the air. A slight smirk prodded into the left corner of his cheek, as a snort of air exhaled through his nostrils.
Prodding his elbows into his desk, he laced his fingers together at his chest. The ring finger, of his left hand, appeared to have a sunken band around it, as if a ring, that had been worn for some time, had been removed. As the commotion from outside mellowed to a distant hum, his eyes fell upon the bronze glimmer, at the back of his desk. Propped up against the wall, a rust speckled landscape picture frame, containing a photograph faced him. To the left of the image, he stood in a navy suit, his hair scraped back and a stern expression on his face. A circular crunched smash covered the right half of the photograph. Beneath the white distorted, shattered glass, was the image of a plump, blonde woman, in a laced ivory dress, wearing an arrogant smirk, linking arms with him. At the click of his fingers, the frame shot towards him. He caught it. The snarl in his nose deepened. A growl began to rumble in his throat. Crack! He punched his fist into the frame. Fragments of glass chippings crumbled to his desk. He tossed the photo frame aside. It landed to the ground with a clunk, as he swiped his hand against his desk, brushing the glass shards across the wooden grains of the table’s surface and onto the floor.
An amethyst colour flickered across his corner vision, from the window. Straightening his posture, he peered down his spectacles, to get a clearer glance at the scene below. Hunched, while she struggled to hold her umbrella up, against the strength of the wind, a red-haired lady staggered down the road. Her eyes fluttered in his direction, squinting against the storm. Camouflaged, his towered was not visible to the naked eye, as it blurred in with the storm surrounding it. A rosy hue blushed to his cheeks, as she appeared to look in his direction. He shuddered. Something about her looked familiar. ‘It can’t be,’ he grumbled to himself, shaking his head.
As the red head disappeared from view, he tugged open the top drawer of his desk. Rolling his shoulders back and jerking his elbows, he attempted to flop the billowing sleeves of his satin, charcoal robe out of the way. He dove his hands inside the drawer and scooped out a clear quartz ball, the size of a volleyball, with a walnut stand beneath it. A clonk thudded, as he plonked the sphere into the centre of the table. Muttering some rhythmical words under his breath, he waved his hands across the reflective orb. A cold light began to emanate from it. He hunched closer towards the sphere, as an image began to clear. It was the red head, struggling beneath her umbrella. ‘It can’t be,’ he muttered, shaking his head. ‘How could it be her?’ Lines creased his brow. Scraping a hand through his hair, he tugged at a clump of dark curls, as he watched the image on his crystal ball.
Hunching her shoulder, the red haired lady slipped the right strap of her backpack off her shoulder, swung her bag around to her front and began rummaging around inside, while she propped her umbrella between her neck and shoulder. She swiped her keys and pressed a sunflower-yellow fob onto a communal front door and let herself inside.
‘She’s at her home already? That means she literally lives around the corner from me.’ The lines deepened on his forehead, as he continued to stare at the scene unfolding before him. His lips parted. A wispy exhale escaped him, as the lady shuffled up a set of stairs and let herself into her front door. As she plonked her backpack in the hallway and discarded her umbrella into the bathroom, on her immediate right, she wandered back into the hallway and through the door ahead of her. The lady appeared in a light, bright, airy room. Ahead of her lay a textured slate grey wall, with ivory-coloured dandelion clocks scattered across it. To her right, a sage green TV stand held a modest television. As she turned around, there were two desks. A light grey one, in the far left corner, decorated with various soft toys and colourful trinkets. He smirked to himself, recognising the two panda plushies hugging. A warmth fluttered from his chest. His stern demeanour, which he had held for years, began to melt. A soft smirk poked into the corner of his cheek. ‘After all this time…’ he mused. A flickering tickled his hollow abdomen. The stiffness in his shoulder blades eased a little, as he leant back in his creaking chair and continued to watch the scene unfold on his crystal ball.
The lady, with long red hair, turned. To the right lay another desk. This one was minimalistic, bearing a computer tower, two monitors and a notebook on the right hand side. In front of the desk, a black wheeled chair was pushed back a little. A head of short, stubbled, dark hair peered over the top of the chair. Watching on, he forced a swallow, scraping his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He heard her voice. “Hello, my love. How was your day?” she asked, as her arms stretched around the seated man’s shoulders. She lowered her head towards his and placed her lips on his cheek. Sliding his chair back, her companion tugged her onto his lap, causing her to giggle.
That giggle. The image blurred. His heart flopped to his stomach. His throat tightened. Slamming his fists into his desk, a blinding bolt of lightning flashed. Clunk. The glow in his sphere extinguished, as it clonked from its sand and rolled across the desk. Lunging forward, he gave a throaty groan, grabbing his crystal ball before it shattered to the floor.
- Josie -
