First Real Short Story {Witch Latinona}

Witch Latinona


Chapter 1: The Witch

The lights never dimmed. The clock never stopped ticking. She couldn't stop her screaming. Her screaming pierced the night. Pierced every soul that tried to overcome her. Being branded as a witch has its setbacks. Name calling, curses shouted, spells forbidden. She couldn't take it. As laid in her bed thinking about the recurring events in her head, thinking about the cruelty, the torture, being cursed as numerous people recited her spells, she couldn't help but think her life has ended here. The small light on the table beside her bed flickered. That's how her life felt. At times her life could be great. Her friends stood up for her. Teachers encouraged her to always do her best. It was great. Then it all shut down. Lockers being spray-painted red with the word "witch" on it, crucifixes and bibles shoved in her face, triple six's wrote everywhere she went. It was hell. She was determined to get back at everybody. At everybody who wanted to kill her. She's tried many ways of killing herself, though. When school was too much. She cut herself everyday, hoping the blood that dripped from her arm would burn the soul of everyone that brought pain to her. The next day at school was going to pain her even more. As she glanced at her clock that said 2:39, she recited one of her incantation spells and fell asleep.
The stares that fell upon her as she walked down the hallway deepened with each step. A soft murmur broke out from a girl that had told everyone that she was a witch. How ironic it was that exactly two years ago that day was the day that her life started to crumble. She walked into 1st period. Art class. The only class where people couldn't judge her, they couldn't bash her. She was free to write her spells. This made things a lot better. The art teacher walked in casually, as if he had never heard the stories about her. He knew them all too well. Yet, he understood why she did the things she did. He announced that this would be a free period. Immediately after he said that, she pulled out her charcoal black composition book, small incantation spells and pentacles written all over the front. Turning to a new page, she titled her next spell, 'Nona-worshiba seloconda', which means, 'Non- Devil Worshiper', in her own language, Witch Latinona. Her spells always consisted of how to perform them. They usually contained some way to take your own blood and honor all followers. But just then, she had a really good spell come to mind.


Chapter 2: The Cafeteria Incident

Nomfarquand- schultreit el s' kslab. Her language was very confusing. At least it was to normal people. When people heard her recite her incantations, they would start screaming, yelling witch, and threatened her life with a bible if she didn't stop reciting her spells. She would usually stand up to the person, rant on and on about how she only needed a few more things for the spell to be just right. She would say she needed only a lock of hair, a single drop of blood from a normy, particularly from the person she would be talking to. She would look at them so darkly, she usually made the gag. Then it would be over. The teacher would get into it, telling her to stop ranting on about the untrue. But her art teacher was different. He knew what she said was true. Spells are real, spells are real. He would mutter this to himself everyday. Everyday while he burned the pentacle into his hand. Letting the blood from the edge of his palm drip into a rusting pail, which he used to bathe in. His own blood cleansed him. It let him drift off to unknown places where it was a required law to worship the devil. But as his own warm dark red blood flowed slowly down the drain, his lifeless white face contorted a smile. He glanced down at the pentacle on his hand. He had a spell coming to mind.
She was sitting in the cafeteria writing more to her recent spell when she happened to glance up at a girl standing in front of her. She looked back down at her spell. "What?" she said deeply, her voice scratchy. "Why do you torture people? Do you like being called a witch everyday?" she said with some hesitation. "Well, yeah I do. I like seeing the look on people's face as I tell them my spells. How they look before a 'mysterious' wind would come after you. Finally, the flaming crucifix darts at your heart. There's no way to escape. As it goes through your heart you fall helplessly to the ground. Then, you come back. Guess what you come back as?" she asked smiling devilishly. The girl stopped gagging long enough to whisper no. She points to herself and says, “One of me." Just as the girl was about to fall to the floor, the principal came in. He shouted for her to step away from the girl. As she did, the clique that the girl hung out with came running to her side, two of the girls crying. The principal told her that she was suspended for the rest of the day. As she walked by all of the people staring at her, she had flashbacks of that morning.


Chapter 3: Coming Back

The constant drip, drip, drip of the blood overflowing from the rusty pail soothed the art teacher. Again he sat in the tub, taking a blood bath. This time the blood wasn't warm. It was cold. So cold it could kill you. And that's what he wanted. He wanted to kill himself so everyone at school would think that she did it. They would blame her; it would be too much for her so she would go home and slit her wrists. Cut them so hard, the blood that was left in her body would flow slowly out of her. She would fall helplessly and lifelessly to the ground. With no one there to save her or help her, she would be left to die a painful and silent death.
1. Slit wrist to where single drop of blood comes out. 2. Make sure blood goes into the pail. 3. Take crucifix and dip it in cold water. 4. Put drop of blood on crucifix. 5. Take crucifix and cut a line along your arm. 6. Chant the following phrase while your blood goes into a pail: "Come to me clouds. May you rise as an evil storm born to rip them open. Curse all non-believers. Burn their soul. Burn their skin until they are silent. Come to me clouds." 7. Repeat 4 times. 8. Take blood and drain it. That was all it took. It took those eight simple steps to become a witch. She did these steps every night, hoping by doing it, she would develop more power. And she did. It made everything about her more powerful. He spells, her voice, her strength. As she sat in her room, her all black room, she silently chanted the phrase. But this time, with each sentence, she became weaker. By the time she finished saying it, her face was white. She couldn't speak, swallow, or even move. But even though she was in so much pain, she managed to have a small smile appear on her face. Tomorrow is the day, she thought. Tomorrow, I will finally fulfill my duty as a witch. And no one can stop me.
The halls were completely deserted. Every step she took echoed twice as loud. She stared at all the lockers and paper in the hallway. She lifted her hand up, made a circle with her arms, and all of a sudden all the lockers burst open, things flying out. She whispered, "Sontrian" and all the stuff from the lockers burst into flames. Items flew against walls, against curtains to classrooms. As she walked to first period, the entire hallway was in flames. She smiled silently to herself, her black coat billowing behind her.


Chapter 4: The Portal

No matter how bright and sunny it was outside, she always had a way of making it the dreariest, dark and upsetting day ever. When the fire from the items in the hallway came near the alarm, they set it off. Water started pouring down from the ceilings. The black eyeliner that she wore and mascara, smeared all over her face. Big, thick lines all down her face. And she was happy. She had never felt better in her life. She was about 5 feet away from art class. All of a sudden, a big group of kids came running out of class, panicking and yelling. But when they saw her standing there, everything became silent. Nobody moved or even dared to speak. The just stared at her. Wide-eyed. Too astounded by the dark swirling portal forming next to her.
"What are you doing here?" one of the boys asked. "I'm here to curse all of you who ever doubted me. To curse all those people that said witches weren't real. I'm the proof that they are real. No one here deserved to be treated with respect. You all trashed me, bashed me, and tried to kill me. Now it's your turn to die," she said so dark and clear. She slowly moved her hands over her head. She then moved her right hand over her heart, her dark, twisted, lifeless heart, and chanted 3 times this phrase: " Come to me clouds. May you rise as an evil storm born to rip them open. Let the blood of many cleanse me and let the blood of non-worshipers burn eternally. Come to me clouds." As soon as she said that, she threw her hands to her side. Then a big gust of wind came through the hallways. Then she threw her hands into the air, hands open, palms facing everybody. All the people just stared in wonder at the portal becoming bigger and bigger.
The portal was a big, red portal that had bones and blood flying all around. It frightened one of the kids so much, they started to gag and fell to the ground. Dead. "Why are you doing this? All we've ever done to you is say maybe one or even two bad things about you, " a boy said who looked like he was about to cry.”That's just it! You've said stuff about me. You made me a freak. Even though, there are freaks here that are weirder than me. I'm here to make sure that all of you end up on a dark pathway to Hell. And that will happen tonight," she said darkly. She threw her hands back down to her side and said a small chant: "Oomfasvah b' feshyto se' lfaszyx calliona!" Everything started spinning around in the hallway. Books, trash, and even lockers hit some kids. When she screamed, "Die!", though she was thrown backwards into the portal. The portal then closed up and everything stopped moving. Lockers flew back to place and books scooted against the walls. And the kids never heard from her again.


Chapter 5: Welcome to Hell

But that wasn't the end. She was thrown into the portal, yes, but they didn't know she ended up somewhere. She ended up in the darkest, most malicious, most life threatening place in the world. She ended up in the underworld. In Hell. She always thought that this would be the best place to end up. She thought she would be able to dwell with Lucifer, Belial, Nero, and hopefully become more powerful than Satan. But all her dreams came crashing down when she saw Lucifer, Belial, and Nero standing tall and proud around their leader, Satan. Satan looked so powerful, so cruel, so malicious, so much more a leader than she ever thought possible. His eyed looked dead and lifeless. He sat in a bid red chair. The chair was made of bones. Human boned that were covered in blood. The chair sat perched on a raised part of the ground. Satan and his followers looked so big and mighty, they made her feel like a rat. Just then, a booming voice came from Satan.
"Who are you?" he said so loud it shook all the brittle trees until they came out of the ground.
"What's it to you?" she said like she didn't have a care in the world.
"Who the hell do you think you are? No one talks to me like that!" he said, very angry. He came up to her and told her to hold out her hands, palm facing him. When she did, Satan took his long torch that he always carried around, and put it on her skin. It burned her so bad, tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to pull away, but the torch had a spell over her, so she couldn't move. The torch was so hot, it melted her skin. Her blood came pouring out of her. She started to feel weak. But then, everything stopped. The pain, the bleeding, in fact, when she looked at her arms, there wasn't a single mark on her arm. Except a small glowing black pentacle on her palm. She ran her finger over it. It felt like glass. "That is the witches’ symbol. It represents everything you stand for. Make sure you keep it clean. If it gets even an ounce of dirt, or blood, as I have heard that you cut yourself, then you will destroy this entire island.” She was in total shock. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She couldn’t think any more of the pentacle anymore, though. She had to find a place to stay.
She sat down on a large rock that had blood dripping down the side. She felt so bad. She always thought being down here would make her feel great. She always thought that she would be able to rule everything and everyone down here. But everything is crashing down. She couldn't take it anymore. She got one of the brittle twigs that was very sharp and cut herself. She dug so deep she cut a vain. It slowly busted open and she started to bleed to death. Or at least she thought she was. She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Nero. He had pure silver eyes. He looked down at her and then ran his hand over her arm and all the scars healed. “Why did you do that? You’re ruining everything!" she said, tears appearing in her eyes. He just stared down at her, a malicious smile creeping over his face. “Come with me. Master Satan wishes to see you," he said. Nero led her to Satan's big throne and pushed her toward it.
"I have a deal to make with you," Satan said.
"What is it?" she asked hesitantly.
"You stay down here and work for me."
"What kind of work?"
"You be my follower and answer all commands that come your way."
"What's the catch?"
"You must sell your soul and body to me."
"What! Why do I have to do that?"
"Because once you do, you will become my main follower or even the ruler. That and the fact that your heir to this throne."
"And how is that?"
"Seventeen years ago, on the day you were born, your mother promised me that when the day you turned eighteen, you would take over my throne. You must sell yourself to me so you can live down here."
"But how do you know my mom?"
"She was the leader of the underworld over twenty years ago. I'm one of her oldest friends."
My mom knows Satan? Why the hell didn't she tell me? That seems like a very crucial fact to leave out of my life, she thought, hatred building up inside of her. She looked up at Satan and hesitantly spoke.
"And if I don't sell myself?"
Satan sat there for a long time. There wasn't a single noise except for the deep breathing coming from Belial. Then he said, “I will make sure your body burns in hell or make you suffer in the normal world and bring pain to you everyday of your life."
She didn't have anything to say. She couldn't think of anything. She stood there and slowly nodded her head. How more worse can Hell get?


Chapter 6: Can It Get Any Worse?

The big sack of bones and twigs that she had to lug around on her back was murder. The bag weighed over 55 lbs. and it made her legs tremble. Her arms were so sore, that her wrists and hands started to bleed. She was really getting the feeling of what Hell is like. On top of all of that, she had to drag that stuff up a big hill to Satan. As she slowly walked up the hill, she could see a glimpse of all the gods standing, facing Satan, huddled in a small circle. When she finally made it up the hill, she threw the bag to the ground in front of Satan's feet. "Here's," she said completely out of breath," your stupid bag." She tried to stand up tall, but she kept swerving, way too dizzy to stand still. Satan just stared at her. Minutes went by and still no response. If I have stand here any longer, I'm gonna die, she thought wearily to herself. "No, your not going to die," Satan said, irritated. How did he know I said that? she thought frightened. Did I accidentally say that out loud? " Ummm... how did you, umm.... know that I was thinking that?" she said, afraid that he might have been able to read her every thought. "I can read witches minds. Unfortunately, only witches minds," Satan said. He seemed to be a little disappointed about that. Anyways now. Take that bag over there, near that tree, and then down the hill to Cain and Hormoel." When hell freezes over, she thought completely exhausted.
She rolled her eyes and the minute she looked up at Satan, an ear splitting pain pierced her entire body. Her arms flew to her side. Her legs started bending forward. Her back arched backwards. Before she knew it, her head was being pulled back, too. She saw horrible things coming from the sky. Bodies flying down past her, blood dripping all over her face. She thought she was going to split in half. Then all of a sudden, it stopped abruptly. Her legs straightened, her back was straight and she was facing Satan once again. Her breathing quickened. her heart started racing. "If you ever disrespect me or any other dweller while you are down here, I will make your life a living hell. Now get that bag and move it," he said. Hearing Satan talk so sternly like that made her knees start quivering. She heaved the bag over her already sore shoulders and started, slowly, walking down the hill.

Chapter 7: He Must Get Her

Drip, drip, drip. The sound of the water dripping into the sink made the art teacher even more agitated. It had been three weeks since she had disappeared. And the art teacher was having a hard time dealing with it. But every day, as usual, he would cut himself, hoping that as the blood slowly dripped from his arm to the carpet, hoping it would somehow reach her down there and bring her back. But as he cut deeper and deeper into his skin, so deep that tears would well up in his eyes. He was horrified that she was gone, that she would never come back.
Listening to the water drip reminded him when he used to bathe in his blood. To become stronger. For her. How much he wished she were back. School just wasn't the same without her. Everybody was happy she was gone. The stupid fools. They had no idea that she could have been a great leader here. Without her, everybody that teased her would still get away with it. Oh, how he'd kill to see her hex one of her classmates. She could have burned their souls. Oh, how he wished he could take her crucifix and slit everybody's wrists so they could all burn in hell for torturing her. That would have made life so much better. Just then, he had an idea. He decided that maybe if he takes another blood bath, it would bring her back.
So he started cutting. Cutting so deep that he could feel the pain all through his body. But this had to be done. There's no stopping once you've started. Then the blood started gushing out. It wet straight into the bathtub this time. It filled up in no time. Once again, he slowly slipped into the tub. The blood had never felt better to him. He hadn't done this in weeks. It was so soothing. But then, a sudden suction came over him. He was being pulled down into the tub. He tried everything he could. He tried to pull his arms up on the side but the force pushed them down. He couldn't breathe. Someone was suffocating him. Or something. The room felt like it was spinning. He tried to yell, hoping someone next door would come help. But just then, he felt his head going under the blood. Before he knew it, he was suddenly sucked into an unknown place. Swirling down a dark hole.

Chapter 8: The Death and The Curse
The bag felt like it was getting heavier and heavier as she walked down the hill. She was extremely tired and she felt like she was going to pass out. The bag was big and bulky and it felt like it was seventy-five pounds. She couldn’t take it anymore. She threw the bag to the ground and watched it roll off the steep hill. She sighed and decided to sit on a dull, white rock. She could feel the sweat trickle down her neck. This had been the most painful week of her life. But just then the ground started to shake. The trees started to come out of the ground. Rocks started to go off the edge of the island. She also started to shake. She almost went over the edge, but it stopped. She looked up into the sky and saw a black speck heading toward her. Then it came into view. It had arms, legs, and a head. Then she recognized who it was. It was her art teacher. He came hurtling toward her. She immediately jumped out of the way. He landed with a big thump, shaking the ground in agonizing pain. “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, half anxious, half angry. He got to his feet and he looked horrible. His hair was hanging limply over his eyes. His eyes looked devil-like. His clothes hung over his body loosely. He looked very worn and tired.
“How did you get here?”
“Never mind that, I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
”Why did you come down here?”
”Why do you wanna know?”
”Because everyone at school has been talking about how you tried to hex Kristen and Josh and then all of a sudden, you were sucked down a portal.”
”’Hexed’? Nobody says that anymore. I cursed them.”
”But if you cursed them, why did you end up here?
”I have no clue.”
”Well, who’s in charge of this dumpy, run dow-“
Just then Satan put his hand on the teacher’s shoulder. His big, red hand burnt into his shoulder. “Who are you?” Satan bellowed. The art teacher just stared wide eyed at him. “Uhhhhh…. Um, I am……um…………” he stuttered, very anxious. “I am, uh, Ronald Chancing,” he said. Satan looked confused. “I’m her art teacher,” he nodded toward her. “Why have you come here?” Satan asked. “Uh, I need to take her back to the earth realm,” Ronald said. He looked so terrified of Satan. His eyed got really big with worry. “She cannot leave,” Satan said, sounding like he has said this before.
“Why can’t she?”
”Because she is heir to this throne.”
”Since when?”
“Since she was born, and don’t question me!”
”But, she hasn’t done anything to deserve to come down here.”
”She deserves what I think she deserves.”
”But she doesn’t belong here! She belongs with her friends.”
“She doesn’t have any friends.”
Oh crap. How does he know that? She thought, worried that if he could read her mind and know something like she had no friends, then he probably knows what she says about him behind his back. “She has me,” Ronald said, sounding a little paranoid. “You are teacher. Or at least was her teacher,” Satan said, a vicious smile creeping over his face. Satan bent down to Ronald’s eye level and grabbed his head. Satan very slowly started to twist his head around, letting the crackle of his head drone out. She looked like she was about to bust out in tears. She put her hand over her mouth and squatted down. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Satan slowly let go of Ronald’s head, letting the blood from his neck cover Satan’s hands. Satan then started rubbing his hands together. Blood now covered Satan’s entire arms. “Why did you do that?” she screamed, and for the first time, she realized that she actually had real feelings for somebody. “For somebody she would never see again. “I did it for your own good,” said Satan, a small smile creeping over his face.
“He would have told.”
”Told who?”
”The people in the other world.”
“But why do they matter?”
”Because if they found out that I was holding someone hostage that did deserve to be down here, then they would have made a mockery of me, and get me thrown out of here.”
“But killing an innocent man…….?”
”Aww…….. look. Little miss witch is actually starting to have feelings for somebody. I thought people like you are supposed to hate the world and everyone in it. I thought you wanted to kill everybody. What happened to that girl?” Satan asked, half sarcastically, half worried.
“I have not changed.” She started to stand up straight. “No stupid, pathetic teacher is gonna change that. Or change my way of performing my spells,” she sneered. “Prove it, then,” Satan said. She had not expected this. Her hand started to shake. She reached for her notebook that she had under her cloak. She started flipping through the pages trying to find a spell that was dangerous and hazardous, but not death worthy. She picked out the one she started to write at school, ‘Nona-worshiba seleconda’. “Here,” she said, and threw the notebook to the ground. Satan picked it up and studied it. “You recite it,” he handed the notebook back to her. She started to hesitate and her hands trembled. She slowly started to say it.
“Shruk b’ tolsatel shultreit coma se’ t’ la nona formquad do este’ tul an te fi come este,” she spoke, almost in a whisper. Satan had to strain to hear her. She started to say it again, but in English. “Come to me. Burn your soul to and up in hell. Fight your way. May you rise as an evil storm. Kill anybody who comes into your path. Stop them, Come to me.”
The wind around her and Satan started to swirl faster and faster. The lifeless corpse next to her, formerly her art teacher, started to roll. He rolled off the edge of the island they were on and fell into a grave. Satan just stood there, arms folded, while she started to panick, looking for a stick or a branch to hold on to. “Well, done,” Satan suddenly spoke, branched and twigs whirling past him. He didn’t seem really happy, but slightly disappointed. “You have ruined Hell. You sent a mortal down here. He caused a riot. Now you must suffer,” Satan’s said, when suddenly, his hands, feet, torso, and heads suddenly caught on fire. Satan held his hands out and started heading for her. She started to panic. She had never felt like this before. She never thought she would be terrified of Satan. But she was. Behind her she heard the ground rumbling. Lucifer, Belial, Nero, and Hormoel came running up behind her. They looked angry. Nero suddenly spoke up. “Masta, is eet you who caused zis?” Nero spoke, with a very thick accent you could hardly understand. “No, she did. She is destroying this place,” Satan spoke, his body still on fire and still heading for her. “And like I’ve told her, she must pay for what she caused.”
Satan’s hand suddenly enclosed around her shoulders. She was in so much pain. She started screaming and crying. Satan then lifted his hands. Her arms were bleeding. She had scabs all over her arms and parts of her arms were missing. Nero, Belial, and Lucifer were all holding her down. They were suddenly smirking. Then Satan blew at his hand, and fire rose all over her body. She started screaming really loud. She tried to move, but she couldn’t. She just fell helplessly to the ground. All the gods stared at her corpse. Finally, this was the end of Witch Latinona.

Chapter 9: It Ain’t Over Until The Crazy Chick Screams

The halls were silent the following week. Everybody was mourning her death. Oddly, people were crying. There was a small wooden table outside her locker. Placed upon it was 6 black burning candles, her picture, and her locket, in shape of a broken heart. The day before, somehow, the principal found her body outside her locker. She was covered in burns. The principal told her mom about the unfortunate event. She busted out in tears. Her mom told the school the next day. Respectfully, they held a service. Her coffin was in the gym, closed for reasons of 3rd degree burns. Many people tried their best to be respectful. Surprisingly, they all were. Everybody said something about her (even if it was bad). The day went on, though. Everybody enjoyed the rest of the day. Thery were happy she was gone.
But one girl was pissed that she was gone. She wanted her back. She had to be back. This girl’s name was Hartman Smith. She had always followed in the girls footsteps. She worshipped her. But now she was gone. Hartman was on a mission, though. To do whatever it took to bring her back. She would risk everything to find out what happened. She would risk her life to find out what killed this girl. No matter if it caused her to end up in Hell.
Even though , to both Hartman and the girl, Hell was the way to go. Hartman was getting ready to leave school, when she turned around. She looked at the entire school carefully. Then a small smile crept over her face. As she was about to walk out of school, she whispered something very faintly.
"Let the games begin".