Wake Up, Witch

Chapter 2

1̶8̶2̶2̶  2022

Guess where I woke up next?

Windsor.

Yes, the bloody castle.

I had been in and out of consciousness. It could have been days or months. But I remembered the number of voices I heard. The faces I glimpsed, hovering and whispering over me, inspecting me as if I was a poppet they meant to stick needles into.

I had never been particular about scents, but this time, I smelled everything and everyone. The woman named Akiko, who came in every morning to check on the machines lined along the wall, had a sweet scent about her. The one who smelled like aged cheese and wine was Dr. Spinett, his voice crisp and almost feminine. Although she rarely came in person, Brenna smelled of roses. Most of the time, I would just hear her voice over speakers surrounding my room.

However, one scent stood out the most. And whenever it filled the air, there was no accompanying voice. He always came at night after Akiko or Spinett. I only glimpsed him once, just as I was drifting between sleep and awake. He moved quietly. Always in the shadows. No face, no voice. Just the scent of pine wood and freshly cut grass.

I may not have been strong enough to fully wake up for long periods of time, but I had enough lucid moments just lying there with my eyes closed.

Spinett filled my hazy mornings with his stupid stories about the morning traffic and a man named Rick, which he sometimes referred to as Dick to his ever loyal listener, Akiko. Whenever he was not talking about Rick or Dick or the delicious folk who blew his mind out the other night, Spinett also talked endlessly about me. Not to me, but to sweet-scented Akiko. He told her what my waking up meant to their research. How I would be known throughout the world as the witch who tricked death for two centuries. "Once we learn her secrets, we'll be paving the way to another golden age of witches!"

Eventually, their conversations delved deeper into my life. They dissected it through the book Akiko was reading, A Memoir of a Witch, written by Petunia Byrne. Ah, my dear Aunt Petunia. The most self-absorbed, lying wench in all of England. Who would have thought she could even write a book? And get readers? How low had humanity become?

"She was amongst the most powerful in her time. The youngest witch who could cross the natural plane," Akiko shared one morning. "I'd even dare place her on the same level as Mertha Krall."

"I don't agree with the Mertha Krall reference. Mertha is way beyond anyone's power."

They stayed quiet for a moment. I could feel them looking at me.

"Do you know they caught her torturing a vampire in a cabin once?"

"She did what?"

"Yes!" Akiko's light footsteps approached Spinett. "Petunia Byrne said that her niece would always lock herself in her room."

"Doing what?"

"Experiments." There was a long pause. "Petunia foresaw the fire before it happened. She said she tried to warn them, but no one believed her."

Aunt Petunia was not in the winter solstice ball because she accidentally hexed herself, you dimwits, I wanted to say, but all that came out was a moan.

Akiko and Spinett became alert. They hovered above me again as my eyes opened weakly.

The past weeks came back to me. Not just their smells and voices and stories. Also the moments when I was alone with my thoughts. The war I fought in my head.

Was it all true?

Was it all a trick?

How was I alive?