Witch? I did not Fall for a Witch #AWitchSaga

Witches and True Love Bleed my Heart (Part 1) Witch? I did not Fall for a Witch is part 2 of Witches and True Love Bleed my Heart series. Click the hyperlink to read the first part.

A tap at the shoulder brought Megan back to the present. Without glancing back, she said, “You’re late.”

“Hello to you, too, Megan!” the warlock smirked showing his pearly white teeth.

“Enough with your games. Did you bring what I need, Geoffrey? Or, do you intend to waste more of my time?” Megan’s voice was laced with sarcasm. She kept her gaze on the ocean refusing to meet the warlock’s eyes.

If he noticed her annoyance, he hid it pretty well. Perhaps, he liked his effect on the witch. He walked around her until he stood in front of her. He knelt down to reach her eye level. Then, as if disgusted, his face scrunched up. His eyes traveled her facial features and then his lips curled up in amusement. “Old age does not agree with you.”

“I do not pay you for your opinion. Hand me the tears and leave,” Megan almost jumped up in fury, her hands curled in a tight fist.

“Easy there! No wonder you have all those lines on your face.” He chuckled. When he found no hint of amusement in Megan’s green eyes. When he found none, he sighed and snapped the fingers of his right hand. A very small bottle in the shape of a test tube materialized. It had an ocean blue colored liquid, which shone ever so slightly. The ethereal glow from the bottle seemed to attract the attention of everyone who happened to be nearby.

“Are you insane?” Megan shouted. In one quick movement, she stood up and snatched the bottle right off his hands. She mumbled a few unintelligible words that concealed the bright light emanating off the bottle. Geoffrey had a way of getting on her nerves. Despite his idiosyncrasies and total lack of respect for the rules, Megan needed him. Her vanity was her Achilles heel and Geoffrey recognized that very well. Too well, in her view.

“Watch yourself there! You tore my skin with the bottle,” Geoffrey exclaimed. The warlock pressed his forefinger with his other hand. Megan’s nails had really dug in his finger and drew blood in the process. “While you’re at it, do you want a taste of my blood. Who knows, maybe my feelings for you have been signs of true love, after all?”

She fought her urge to turn the warlock into a toad and rolled her eyes, instead. Before she would regret something that she might do in anger, she quickly turned on her heel and walked away. “Idiot!” she muttered with a frown. Looking around to confirm no human was present in the vicinity, she chanted ‘itusatru matrien’ and vanished into thin air.


I lost my heart to a witch. No matter how many times I repeat these words, their meaning still sends shivers down my spine. Indeed, I knew that witches exist. I didn’t know about other parts of the globe, but Royal Amping had a history of witches. My mom told me the story of how a bunch of evil witches slaughtered our peaceful town, only to be saved by a powerful witch, Clea. Whilst both the slaughtering and saving parties were witches, the town remained fearful of their kind. We were brought up to avoid them with all our might. Yet, as it always is, fate has a way of materializing. I was born to die for Megan. Even though I would have liked a different ending, I don’t regret what transpired.

Time and again, my mind travels back to our first encounter. It was amazing how the owner of as immense beauty as she could have so much gloom surrounding her. There was a sadness in her eyes, which was in stark contrast to the cynical expression that overwhelmed her entire personality. In the background, the waves were crashing against the white massive rocks that sat on the right side of the beach. The evening sun had painted the sky a mesmerizing shade of orange. Even the most talented painters struggle with blending various shades to the extent that no shade loses its allure while balancing each other out. Yet, nature appears to do it effortlessly. I wondered if Megan was contemplating the same thoughts as me. A part of me knew the answer, but I decided to approach her with my musings, nonetheless.

“Nature has a way of putting things into perspective. Right?” I asked her, hoping that she would be the type to hold a conversation.

“You don’t want to associate with me.” She flicked her hands as if I were a bothersome fly.

I was not a fly, and I decided not to be treated like one. Unless I stood my ground, she would not notice me at all. So, that’s what I did. I stood right next to her almost hovering. Her lip twitched on one side and she looked up at me. If looks could burn, I would have been screaming wildly while the fire consumed my whole existence. As cool as the ocean breeze was, I remember sweating profusely. I could feel beads of sweat on my forehead and armpits. Against my white distressed shirt, the sweat must have started leaving a yellowish stain. I had no game plan. So, I decided to return her gaze. Her green eyes locked with my honey browns. Before I realized, I opened my mouth and words started flowing.

“Why are you sad?” I asked and then flinched at my candor. With nothing else to do other than being confused at the source of my candid question, I decided to sit next to her.

With her brows furrowed, she threw me a glance. Then, without saying a word, she stood up and walked away. I felt like a moron sitting there all by myself. Clearly, the poor girl deserved peace. I should have just clamped my mouth shut. Especially, when I had observed a sad look in her eyes. After the little stunt that I just pulled, she would never forgive me.

“I don’t even know her name, and already she is mad at me,” I mumbled as I picked white sand off the beach and began pouring it out of my fist.

“It’s Megan.”

I turned over my shoulder and looked upward until my eyes found hers. It took me a moment to notice her outstretched hand. “You know it’s considered a tad forward of a woman to offer her hand to a man at the first meeting,” I said with a raised brow.

“Are you in the habit of always putting your foot in your mouth?” She chuckled. Subsequently, she grabbed my hand with her extended one and pulled me close to her. With her mouth close to my ears, which left my head p”Oh! And while you are a fan of making a clown of yourself, let me share one more piece of information with you. You are smitten with a witch.”

As the thought sunk in, I pulled my hands off her grip and moved away. Her bellowing laughter indicated that my reaction amused her thoroughly. And just like that, she vanished into thin air. Not metaphorically! Literally! She literally faded away. Unlike her disappeared form, her laughter did not evaporate with her. Her melodious chuckling tormented me until I jumped on my feet and left the beach. I did not need a witch in my life. I couldn’t even bear the thought of a friendly witch, let alone a witch as an object of my affection.

Read Part one of #AWitchSaga by clicking here.

For more short stories, click here.

One Comment Add yours

I love talking to my readers. Leave a comment :)

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.