The Witches code

PROLOGUE

' I'm in the dark, a place filled with loneliness, fright and terror. The earth watches her own with a quiet eye, while we all drown in our tears

The evening sky sprawled over the face of the tired earth as he watched the sea birds floating gently on the surface of the water. His eyes were steady on the horizon enjoying the warmth of dry breath that filled the air. It was here that Richard enjoyed taking deep breath where he would patiently admire the warm embrace of the fallen sun and the sprinkling of men, women and children that hung around every corner. The sun brightened his blackness seemingly like crystals in miry waters with broad muscles that stood out on his arms and shoulders.

Richard sat alone gazing at the distant waters that met with the orange sun in the sky. The soft breeze swept across his feet and brushed his hair foward. He was still half-dressed in his sweatpant and dark sunglasses; completely left with the feeling that a thousand eyes gazed at him from every distance in death Brook beach. Richard watched the sun depart from the sky gradually, motionless ,beneath the palm tree with his legs stretched out on the bamboo bed. He felt goose bumps spread round his skin which made him develop strange feelings in his head

He was beginning to feel the presence of the spirits hovering round him. Monsters had always lived in head which people only saw as mere imaginations but these imaginations apperared so true to him. His analogies weren't ever true to people as they perceived him with a mark of mental disorder. He knows, internally that they occupied a larger room of his mind, aided by the Witchcraft world.

CHAPTER ONE

Long time ago, In a late and quiet evening, a white female archaeologist from earth, Hera had found her way through a dark cave after many years of sweats, pain and blood in the forest. She looked so shabby and her face all covered in moist clay. Her feet and hands were soaked in the blood of animals that she smelled of nothing but blood and dried sweats. It was now that her tongue was dying heavily of thirst, wanting water and liquor. She had lost her path to earth and had been feeding on leaves for years, which made her assume she had become an animal in the midst of predators.

The distant gaze of burning woods, gathered closely whose embers still lingered in air, helped her smell the hovering presence of beings at the threshold of the cave. Hera wasn't sure whether they were spiritual beings or even monsters all she desired keenly was the comfort. It was this that made her eyes beam with joy as she glanced across the cave feeling a glimpse of hope, flood through her heart. As she walked steadily, her feet felt heavy, becoming difficult for her to lift; but she struggled through the path and entered the cave.

The cave was very dark and as she entered slowly, a colony of bats began circling round her head and she waved them with her hands fearfully with an expression of fear in her eyes. Hera breathed heavily and eagerly trodding in darkness still on her weaker foot curious of what lived in the cave. She edged futher noticing a lamp that hung at one corner, she removed it and held it to aid her path as she was hearing the cry of a baby.

She had wondered where the sound came from in this silence. She treaded futher and found a child laying helpless in her cradle. She had been crying for hours in this darkness and as she raised the child from the cradle with her left hands, the lamp light beamed on her face. A pentacle blazed on her breast. She was frightened by this, but knew internally that the child was spiritual and could lead her to earth. She wrapped her around the cloth, as the baby smiled at her, and as they continued in long walk, she found out that the forest began to open roads she had never seen and they found thier way to earth.

Hera nutured her as her own child, because she was barren, unknown that this breed in her care was a witch with demonic powers. She had grown to become a demonic witch who transformed to many forms, until she finally decided she would choose a sole form. Hera called her Theresa unknown to her that her mother bore that name. She gave her that name out of love.

The fame of Theresa II had spread throughout the underworld had even beyound for her magical powers and how she had lived in the dark walls of mysteries. It was also believed that her mother Theresa I who was a witch, gave birth to her in the Witchcraft cave and dedicated her to the goddess. She was devoured, by the devil and hoped that anyone who would possibly find her daughter, could possibly give her love and care. Hera luckily slumped through the desert and found her many years. Hera was dead, and this made the call of Theresa II by the witch world hasten.

Witches assumed many forms. Some where cats, snakes, insects or even wolves but she had chosen to become an Owl. She perched on roof tops every midnight, hooting tearfully in a thousand voices that echoed around the house which wasn't just considered a mirage, She had been coming and going, seasons after seasons. She had lived before this century and was ageless beyound doubts always with folded letters, tied around her legs.

In the Witchcraft world she was called the 'The messenger', for she sent and received messages for ages covering long miles and distance with her fairy wings. It was her destiny and couldn't be written off from the dark books of Hell. Richard had become a victim of their intiation because he had been fed with her breast milk, when her daughter,Bessie had developed a cancer of the breast, which she cured 3years later.

Theresa never developed strange feelings about the magical signs of Witchcraft in the life of her grandson, Richard. She had initiated the poor child herself and had chosen to discard any amusing feeling. She was only amazed by her daughter, Bessie who was formless and natural in their world.

However, Richard was destined to become a dragon in the Witchcraft world but was left to him in discovery. Whenever Richard wasn't sleeping; he was always walking around her room in the dark, combing for books in her 'Library of the Sorcerers' while she layed, with her eyes half-opened as though she had slept. He had sucked the breast of a witch which poisoned his mind and soul and was prepared to feast on their darkened heart, unknown to him.

He would often flip through pages of those scary fictions standing lazily beside her old wooden table, gazing at her across the dim light affirming that she hadn't woken up. She had come to admire his quest for magical powers through knowledge in the gothic novels he read in suspense almost everyday. The darkness in his heart grew more, with the volumes of horrors he finished in a week.

He would walk quietly in the sun, ablaze with heat on his black hoodie that reached to the knees, a black short, a black shoe with an old hand bag around his shoulder heading to the public library. He had made the library his home, and children of his age barely talked about books; they played videogames, watched movies, ate and slept.

He was different in the way that he found delight in reading books at a very tender age. And when he ceased walking out of tiredness, he would lay his back under a tree, gazing at people who walked under the sun, admiring the echoes of their footsteps and how they talked in thier lowered voices. He was determined to walk more hours in the sun.

He had become so familiar with the streets of Death Brook and hoped that his Wizardly custome would always caught the attention of passers-by. They always did, as children who walked alongside wore strange faces, gazing at him, and wondering what sort of kid he was and why he had always chosen to dress so awkwardly. He would smile back at them, hoping to give them an answer that facially pleased them and continue walking to the library covered in beads of sweat.

He internalized deeply, whenever he sat , motionless, feeling a crowd of spirits that constantly over shadowed his mind. He couldn't explain this feeling but knew they walked, slept and leapt making decicive choices when he was troubled. They occupied a larger room of his mind more whenever he closed his eyes, buried in silence. He had even felt something swallowing him up, as it did in most occasions which was the floor of his room and when he opened his eyes, everything became void.

He was afraid to tell his mother, who he perceived may never understand those weird feeling which had grown in him. She would strongly insist on admitting him to the psychiatrist even if he refused with mournful gesticulations. He too felt that the psychiatrist wouldn't understand because it is beyond science. He had always hidden this weird feeling when he was outside, so he could also find company.

In his dreams, he saw himself with a thousand hands breaking tightly through dark walls and his dreads becoming snakes that cut across different directions as they fell. Sometimes, he saw himself as a dragon, when he had been injured badly, as fire storms the ground.

He had transformed to beasts that fed on humans for survival which was clearly different from reality.His teeths grew to become a sabre blade which he couldn't tame till they chew into fleshes. He drank blood and ate worms and fleshes of aliens whose hunger queched victories.

He knew he was strange but still wondered what had always frightened him. They was something special about him, but he needed to wait for a long time to be discovered, probably in the face of danger. He couldn't dare to sleep when they have arrived. Their images on the wall terrified him and sent sleep sailing in the dark.

He was at least patient, which made him read more, and the more he read, the more he didn't see them as fiction but as sacred books. Sometimes, he just merely perceived them as fiction depending on his mood.

The ghosts visited him, leaving thier foot prints in his room and thier hands printed on the wall. They had a strong tie with his destiny which he personally could not identify with. Richard never knew that they had been a bond with the spirit world since his birth, and his affection for gothic stories was the beginning of this nature.

He too would think that his dreams could manifest physically. He would close his door tightly with, with hands fully caresssing the book, saying some magical words he had learnt and waiting for something mythical to happen, but nothing eventually did. He always tried to remind himself that they were fiction and could probably lead him to nowhere.

He remembered vividly, in his reminseces as a child, when he would press his forehead to the glass window at night looking through it and admiring the moon as the sky wore it's colourful look.

He was always occupied with whispering something quietly to himself, which no one ever heard and everyone around him always sensed this strangely. It was all childhood and he associated all those crazy feelings with childhood. Now, he was a mature man, but things still went wrong, in what he had envisaged in adult hood.

Richard closed his eyes from time to time still imagining the nightly visits of the dead. For hours, He had been busy imagining in his head if he had ever seen them bodily as a child. It was a long time and still, he wrestled with his doubts, as an image immediately flashed across his mind.

They only appeared in his room as shadows, casting themselves on the long faded walls; with thier frail hands printed on the wall and thier dying voices that resounded in his head which made him cry loudly till he booted the whole family awake.

Everyone had always been woken by the expectations of his cries every single night and they often wondered if he was already sickened by the sight of the night. His mother would quickly rush into his room switching the table lamp and sitting closely beside him, as he shivered; narrowing his eyes beneath her warm arms. And after a short period of time, she would run her fingers through his dreads luring him softly till he slept

After the death of his parents in a ghastly car accident in Dranfit, things had begin to fall apart, even more terribly. It became obviously different from other nights. It never occurred to Richard to think that he would ever be left alone to the horrors of this daunted house. Only his grandma knew the secret that held the strangeness of this house. She always wanted to tell him, but was regularly distracted by relatives till it escaped her mind. Now, It was like living in hell, the torments and the night watch had worn him out.

He heard the helpless cries of mothers and children that ran across the cold waters outside his house. In the midst of the warmness in his living room; he would see a mighty wind raising the white curtains briskly. The chandeliers swayed from side to side and the family frames tilted and suddenly maintained a balance. This made made him terrified, night after night

Richard heard the birds screeched, the leaves fluttering heavily and the unusual sounds on the roof top echoing loudly till he could sleep no more. Sleep had now become a luxury to Richard and anytime he found one, he slept out of time, unworried about what anyone would say. Fear had darkened his eyes to the colour of a coal tar that whenever he walked on the streets he shivered, looking at the street walls, if they were shadows in his company.

He always wished he could elope from the daunted house but it had been betrothed to him, by his parents which even hierarchically flowed from thier great grandparents; and would find it rather silly to rent another house when the mansion lies empty, decaying for years.

The windows are always dark and filled with shadows whenever it was closed. And afterwards, he opened his eyes and pressed his forehead to see through it, but saw no one.

His vision dimmed in the dark and he would carry a torch outside, to the gardens, gazing through the garage but still, sensed no one. And after he entered immediately, the door was slammed against him, then opening forth again. It went on for several years and no one could cure him of his Maniac.

Richard suddenly opened his eyes after he had been drowned in his imaginations. He lit up another cigarette, puffing the smokes to the air and pouring a glass cup filled liquor through his dry throats. He enjoyed holidays and would spend it on the Death Brook beach in Death Brook city.He brought his cigarette, bottle of liquor and always apperared in his pant.

He had come to admire the fact that his peace lived with him on the beach. He could reflect, calm his nerves and recollect memories. He had been working as a cop for many years and had had many cases to deal with particularly his race_black. He always identified himself as a black cop even when it seemed slightly unimportant to him.

Suddenly, the waters were running red with blood. Everyone had taken to their heels, naked because they have never seen anything like this before, as the waters kept rippling, bloodred. The echoes of the waters became louder and louder; deafening his ears, as he pressed both hands to it. His dreams began to materialize in his head. The sky grew darker and the birds fearfully departed from the surface of the water.

Richard raised his eyes in a daze trying to picture what had just happened . He noticed a bright light coming from the middle of the stormy sea creating a circular radiance. He was the only one that stood firmly and was about to be ripped apart by his own fear.

She had began walking slowly on the surface of the river and it amazed him greatly. She was beautiful and her blonde hair that glimmered reached to the ground. Her fingers stood out long, painted in red and her teeth were rotten which he sensed to be her only flaw.

'Richard! Richard! Richard!. She called repeatedly. He realised that her voice felt dead and appealing at the same time. He had never heard anyone like her and now he wondered how she knew his name. Except in dreams where he dined and wined with indigenes of the elusive world; he always remained in silent pact with strangers. She had called him over and over again and her clumsy voice resounded across the waters.

Richard walked in silence towards the river as if he had been possessed. His gaze momentarily fixed to hers as she appeared so ageless in her naked form. She was strikingly beautiful and had the charms to the lustful eyes of men. Richard saw blood in her eyes, blood of breathless generations wasted in the flames of hell, and thought perhaps, that she was a living dead. And as she spoke in her clumsy voice, It seemed to Richard as if she had spoken those words in his head.

'I see have them, I have read them, I fathom!

'Prophecies are written all over you'

'What prophecies? What are you saying I young lady?'

'I can smell your fate! Your path, the prophecies'

'These words are beyond human understanding, I wish;I understood'

'Ignorance rings across your head, you should have known that time is fleeting'

Stop! Stop! You are beautiful but your words appears so strange before my ears'

'The world of another revolves around your head, don't let them die in waste'

Richard never understood those words_ he wished he did_but was still engrossed in her stunning beauty. The devil had made her himself. She appeared still naked with her hands out and her breast dangling but was clothed halfway. She held the winds on her palm and pressed them to his presence. Richard had regained consciousness and gazed into her dying eyes.

'It would start by our love, that spreads across this waters, to the air and beyond'

'Love, do you think I have ever loved anyone since the death of Vanessa?

'The living and the dead have nothing in common!'

'Do not dare disrespect her, she rules over my mind'

'I have just expressed my love, I'm not being any rude to the dead, infact we rule the dead'

'What are you talking about?. He gave her a confused look.

'That my love for you goes beyond the waters, in translations.

She had been steeling herself from the obvious truth and thought that the expression has a more subtle way of getting him along with her, to the fireside.it was the plainest way because she had lured him already with her beauty. His heart began to thump heavily. He had never seen her before and now she was destined for a spiritual union.

'You do? but I don't even know you, could you tell me about yourself?.

'I am Cassandra, a princess from the fireside, you have a destiny to fulfill my king'

'I have read a lot of that bullshit,this same fairy tale'

He sighed restlessly, hoping she would not use the word 'king', because he never had a kingly lineage and now he was suspicion of the sudden thrust of kingship on a black cop.

'I wish you would not be blinded from your destiny'

'What destiny?what prohecy? Do you know me before?'

'Yes! Gracefully, LE MI TES REI'

'LE … I would rather curse my breath than say that strange word'

'The truth is that I have been born into the Witchcraft world'

'What I just said, it's our tool of communication''

'I can only imagine, It is relative. even animals have language. Why should I be surprised?

'You belong here, you should read the signs written all over you'

Stop! Stop!

'I have said this a thousand times darling, we both have destinies to fulfill, we are out of time!

'How can I trust you, when I don't even know you?

'But you don't need to know me much, familiarity kills the soul!

Richard let out any heavy sigh, trying to fight through this deep sence of affection even though he still loved Vanessa. She reminded him every memories they both shared and how she has won his love with her appearance. Now, He had fallen in love with a witch he couldn't have been more abashed by his decision.

'I have seen you, wailing and suckering in doubt!

'Where? How?

'I have seen many men come here, but I sensed something strange in you'

'Strange! Well, I have never been strange, but surrounded by strange events'. Richard was also trying to hide the obvious truth, wrapped up in his mind, and seemed as if they gambled with words. He knew though that he would finally discover because she was a witch'

'kill me! kill me! If death would probably be the antitode to your sickness'

'Only cowards die many times before their death'

'I have never protested that I wasn't one, let me be,can I enjoy my holidays? please! He pressed both hands together in a craving plea'

'l have many cases to deal with next week'

'Only a living man thinks about the affairs of this world, a dead man do not'

'Are you in a roundabout way saying I would die?

Richard, at that moment flashed through the memories of his dead parents and suddenly felt gloomy. It had been 2 years since they died and now he looked at her and breathed heavily hoping she would not want his blood in exchange for her sole desire.

'I want to take you to my world,underword'

'It is called the fire side. I would take you to my families residing in a dark cave before the flaming gates of hell...

Richard felt something heavy in his heart, when she mentioned the gates of hell. His eyes glistened like fresh water fish unsure, if his sins had come to haunt him, eloping with it's messenger to the flames of hell. The word 'hell' felt heavy in his head and in a swift, beads of sweats ran down his armpit. Perhaps, he could make a perfect family, with these underworld breeds having children who were half human, half spirit, expressly pleasing his dead parents.

The beach remained his home of solitude and having sleepless nights in his parents home, became a terrifying narrative he couldn't explain to anyone, they wouldn't understand, and would perhaps, perceive him more strangely.. She reached out her strange hands to Richard, breeding a gentle smile.

'I need to think about this, I'm not sure if I'm going to hell, and you leading me through it's gate'.

'Trust me!. She gave him a fufilliing glance and that relieved him of the sudden fright of being destroyed. His trust had not been solely given to her, but he was expectant of what would happen after wards. As he clinged tightly to her hands, a twirling red sparks of light encircled them, accompanied with an heavy wind till they went out of space. He was destined to see this new world and unravel the witches code by the fireside