This isn't my own story. Cecil, a very good friend of mine, wanted me to post this. I just edited it a little. It's her point of view, and I find the witch to be a little like me… I dunno… You decide.

This is a short story and will be done by Halloween.


Firelight

"Did you hear?" Vega asks me. We sit together in a trinket shop talking over a couple of pints. "Cecil."

"Eh?" I look up from my pint. The foam is starting to evaporate in this tin cup. "Sorry Vega, what is it?"

Vega. My closest friend. A strawberry blonde girl who loves cutting her hair short and putting it in the weirdest styles. Her brown eyes could deceive a young man into believing in anything. She uses that trait well.

Vega sighs. She is an impatient one. "I said did you hear? About Mistress' next magic show. It's tonight."

"Oh." I closed my eyes to keep the warmth away from my cheeks. "Is that all?"

"No. I also bought us tickets already."

"What?!" My eyes snapped open and my face flushed. Vega looked amused.
"I know the feelings you harbor for her." She leaned in and whispered, "It's a dangerous thing to be in-love with a woman, but to be in-love with a witch… Well, that's another matter. Cecil, you best be rid of your petty feelings. Cast them aside. Find another woman. One who doesn't make a living by doing simple illusions. You know what they really are. They mask her witchcraft--"

"That's quite enough." I stood up, my blood rushing through my ears. I gave Vega a kiss on her blonde head. "Thank you for my ticket. I shall be there."

"You're welcome." Vega sounded worried. Maybe I should be too.

Mistress. She is the magician of our small town. I saw her once just out of curiosity. She could levitate, disappear, and even be in two places at once. I was so captivated by her tricks that I caught her while she was exiting backstage.

I had grabbed her hand and called out her name…

"Mistress!"

She stopped.

My heart was beating wildly inside my breast. My hands were tingling, and my ears started to ring. Odd sensations all around.

She turned around so fast that it caught me off guard. She grabbed me and pulled my face up against hers. Her eyes held mine, and I could feel the color rise to my cheeks.

"That's my stage name, silly." She smiled. "My real name's October."

"O-October?"

"Yeah, that's right. Like Halloween. I was born that night."

"The Devil's night…" I whispered to myself.

"Oh, none of that now. Please. My past consists of too many God lovers and Devil haters." She placed a soft hand on my cheek and my breath evaded me. "You have beautiful eyes. Such a soft green…" She looked over my shoulder and I heard voices. "I must be off!" She let me go and ran down a corner with a flash of her white dress.

My she was lovely. I remember her vividly. Her hair, the softest brown London had ever seen. It fell to the middle of her back in a beautiful wave of curls that bounced wherever she went. The sunlight revealed streaks of gold that would be invisible in dark times, or oblivious eyes.

Her frame, lavished with curves that would turn Jesus into Satan. Her skin spoke of cinnamon, but her scent was that of ripe strawberries.

Her eyes. Oh, those eyes. A wondrous hazel green that hides even more gold as they shimmer from behind thick eyelashes like glitter. When she blinks, I see it in slow motion. The movement of those dark, deep, long eyelashes gently touch her skin with a whisper of a touch. I find myself wanting to do the same.

When she smiles, her face lights up. Those big, beautiful eyes light up. She has a big smile and uses it well. Her laugh is like that of a little girl, hiding the lust and poison her eyes, and movements, give out freely.

She has captured my heart. As sad as that may very well be. With her graceful, almost floating, movements, her hands, her voice, her essence. She has my undivided attention and, whenever I see her, I find myself not wanting to look away.

But she could never love someone like me.

I walk into my very small house and look into mirror. My hair is black. Not beautiful like hers. It is long and it falls over my shoulder dully. My eyes are an ugly dull green. My hair usually gets in the way of them. It is to long.

When I see her, the word 'beautiful' comes to mind. When I see me, the word 'dull' stays. I'm no match for her. Besides, she most likely has a someone of her own.

Probably some big, strong, handsome man that could protect her from any danger that could arise. And who am I?

A cowardice girl. That's who.

Someone who would probably run at any sign of danger and never look back. Someone who is too ugly for a blacksmith to even take another glance at. Someone who could never get someone like October

Argh… I shouldn't think like this… I should just get ready for tonight.

E/N:
It's a start. Like I said, not mine. Cecil didnt make any chapter titles, so I did for her.

Review? For me?