The Magical Visit (Narrative)

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"Dirty bee, make sure all the works are done before we come back, especially those filthy eyes of yours if you can." The door slammed in a loud wham like a hammer whacking into the wall, while the footsteps gradually fade away into nothing but the tickles of the clock. I stood stationary. The icy winter crept through the gap under the door, piercing into my barefoot and slinking into my ragged, dirty clothes. The wind outside started to howl in screams of agony.

Dirty bee. I've always hated that name.

The clock tickled in an alarming click. The living room behind littered with unfinished wine, grilled beef, and yellowish rotting fruits waited impatiently for a thorough clean. Like a frightened rat, I hurried towards the chaotic sceneーand I heard a knock on the door.

It's not them, they shouldn't be back this quick, I thought in terror.

The knocking didn't stop. The wind moaned silently. Sweat rolled down my face like round, clammy beans as I reached for the icy doorknob and twisted it in a loud screech.  

"Leslie!" 

"AHHHH!" I shrieked as I tumbled to the ground. A colorful figure came into sight. She leaned down and gaze into my eyes with great excitement.

"Your eyes are still purple and yellow," she smiled like a crescent moon, "you ain't change all these years! Except your clothes look like you just fell into a rubbish bin!" She stood up, her pink fluffy hair wiggled like cotton candy stretches down to her waist. Her clothes are as violet as fresh lavender, while golden threads like tendrils hung with little bells on her skirt rang softly. Her eyes are a gradient of purple and yellow, flickering like stars in the night skies.

Just like me.

"You know my real name..." I spoke, "who are you?"

"I am someone that's just like you," she stated as she held my hand tightly, her eyes flashed with determination, "come with me, Leslie, I am here to take you away."

"Why should I trust you?" I shook off her hand vigorously, "who are you anyway?"

"Look into my eyes," the woman held my face and tilted it towards her own until I couldn't balance myself; her eyes started to glow in rays of cold, solemn purple, "we are both born with the power of these eyes that gives us nothing but hatred and discrimination. We are the same, Leslie, or you want to continue with your life now as a slave?"

A surprised gasp slipped out of my lips. I don't want to be a slave.

Suddenly, repeated yellings screamed from behind. My owners came running and shouting towards us.

"Quick, grab my hand!" The woman cried.

"Wait, how do weー" My words came to a halt when a broom appeared in clouds of purple smoke in her palms. 

"Trust me, I'm a cute witch."

The next second, skies splattered in colors of apple, orange, and blueberry emerged before my eyes. High up in the skies, we sat on the broom while the chilling winds of freedom gushed through my bones. The vast land below was covered with a white blanket of snow, while snowflakes flattered and danced down from the clouds above. My owners shouted with confusion as we shot up high towards the clouds.

"Leslie," the witch exclaimed, "from today on, you are no slave! You are a cute witch like me!"

The skies. The dawn. The witch. They are the light of my hope.

(566 words. It's free writing for just plain practice of imagery devices!)







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