The Ellington Forest

Prologue The Birth of a Curse…or, You Know, a Witch Kels’s Story Kels knew from the beginning that her death would be worth it. But after all of the pain and confusion, essentially becoming a permanent part of her everyday life, she could never tell why it was her and not someone else. Why was she chosen for this task? Why did it all come down to her? As the days slowly faded away, she understood: her life would be demanding, and it had been that way from the day she was born. It was not a normal birth. Her mother gripped the ground outside as only a true sorcerer of nature would. The earth trembled beneath her back as she tried to stay calm. No one else was around to facilitate the birth; Jane had done that purposefully. She knew that if word got out that Jane the Sorcerer was birthing a child, both she and the child would be in harm’s way. She couldn’t have that; she knew why her child was being born. She would become a mother to a daughter of many…well, let’s call them talents. Jane’s home was located about ten miles outside the Ellington Forest in the heart of the Oakland Woods. It was here where her daughter, Kels, would be born: sworn to a life even her mother couldn’t fully understand. But she knew the necessity of her daughter: only she could save the world. Kels’s childhood was fairly normal. She played in the woods and caught frogs, bringing them back to the house. Her mother quickly refused to let her come in with those so-called abominations. She’d then set them back in their puddles and would go on to hike the trail leading to the Ellington Forest, wondering what was on the other side. Jane knew this might happen as Kels grew older, so she had cast a magical ward around the area, keeping Kels out of harm’s way. But as Kels’s desire grew to journey farther out of the woods, her curiosity began to get the best of her. Jane was prepared for this too. “Mommy?” “Yes, Kels.” “What’s back there?” “Back where?” “In that forest.” “Nothing to worry your little head about. Now come set the table so we can eat.” Jane often deflected this question. Not out of wanting to keep her daughter in the dark about how truly magical the surrounding area was, but because she knew a day would come where Kels would have to discover the mystical landscape for herself. It wasn’t her secret to spill. Around the age of sixteen Kels began to show the mystifying horrors of being a teenage witch. She didn’t yet know how to construct magical séances or cast spells to make flowers grow and wildlife stir. But she did know how to throw a thoroughly planned fit in the most extravagant way. Books would go flying across the room. Glass piled on the floor, giving Jane an exact understanding of why teenage witches should not have access to any material that can shatter into pieces. Her anger grew by the day. She wanted to hang out with other teenagers who were doing teenage things with the recklessness that comes with teenage years. Jane wouldn’t allow it. She knew Kels would grow up to become something completely different, a true opposite of her teenage counterparts. Plus it wasn’t like there was another teenager within a five-mile radius. Instead she would do what others her age dreaded most: study. It was one mystical book after another, followed by different geometrical problems that, though Kels would never admit it, seemed to have more practical uses than simple textbook privilege. She would study different ideologies mixed in with well-known philosophers like Aristotle and Socrates and so on: tested on the general thesis of what their beliefs meant, followed by the full range of examples showing how she would use their beliefs in today’s natural world. Jane watched approvingly while Kels made it as clear as possible how much fun she was not having doing such menial work. “This is a drag,” Kels said, after tossing aside a copy of The Nicomachean Ethics. “What’s a drag?” Jane asked. “Boring, dull, wasteful, painstakingly mundane, obsolete…” “Well it’s good to know the many synonyms I suppose,” Jane responded, acutely aware of the term drag. She was happy to see in her daughter the same sarcastic attitude that had once gotten Jane expelled from the School of Modern Witchery. “Just because you do not like it doesn’t mean it won’t serve you in the future.” “You keep saying that,” Kels replied, as she felt any teenager in her position would. “Because it’s true and you know it.” Kels stayed quiet for a moment. She couldn’t figure out why on earth she was kept cooped up with her mom or how, despite her overdramatic fits, her mother came to terms with this miserable living agreement. “I hate it here!” “No you don’t.” “YES, I do!” “Then do something about it. Though I doubt you will get far.” Kels stormed off to her room and slammed the door. Jane continued rocking in her chair and reading her copy of Yell Less, Love More by Sheila McCraith. “If only it were that simple, Sheila, if only it were that simple…”