Forlot: My Name is Witch - Book Hundred-Eight

Chapter Three

I have no doubt that I am one of the few individuals - if not the only individual - who hates their own grandma. Loathes her with a passion. You will be overjoyed once her life is expired. Do not feel guilty if you want an evil person to die already. Okay, feel a little guilty. You will stoop to their level and eventually commit a sick crime. To be specific...murder.

If you let your hatred of folks control your mindset and every move - if you let evil take control of not only your body, but also your soul - you will not survive. You will be regarded by our world - maybe even by those whom you care about - as evil and synonyms of that word. All the names in the book. You turn into the thing that you hated others for. Pure evil. Do you want to be pure evil instead of God's child? Do you want to be remembered as one of the evilest people? Do you wish others to spat on your grave?

I do not want to be a witch. I do not want to be as great as Grandma or even better. I do not seek fame, wealth, or romance - although that romance could be amazing. Having a boy understand me and be devoted to me. No obsession or abuse. Too bad that Grandma is planning a wedding for me and the jerkiest warlock in our small village. Possibly the biggest jerk on the planet. He may be the strongest and smartest wizard, but because he is full of himself, he could not escape a paper bag.

Why could my sister not marry him? She loves him!

Grandma does not need to talk so intimidating. Should not. It bothers me to the point that it hurts my muscles and ears and head. She already looks intimidating. Her skin was dark. Grey like a zombie's. Her glistening hair was similar to mine. Black like our clothing. Went past her shoulders. Her long-sleeved dress touched her feet covered by her matching heels and had a hood that she always kept up. I have never noticed Grandma smiling. I believe that she is incapable of being happy or joyous. Her heart is dark. Filled with evilness. No compassion. No forgiveness.

I only want to assist the kingdom, Forlot, and anybody else who needs their faith in humanity reinstated - and to cut all ties with my family and all the other warlocks and witches.

I thought for a split second of my cross necklace hiding under my dress. I need to keep it hidden - or Grandma will punish me in the worst possible way. She said that the punishment will be so brutal that I will willingly be the best witch that I can be. I am unsure what it entails - but I have an idea. I will spare the details.

The first - and most important - rule of being a witch is to not be surrounded with the Holy Trinity. Religion in general is perfectly fine. Religion is man-made. But the Holy Trinity holds the truth, so it is a big, fat no. Those practicing witchcraft love evil and hiss at good. At God. They should not be tolerated. Yet we do because we are scared to speak truth. We do not want to offend others. Actually, we do not want to offend the woke. Crazies.

I will not apologize for what I just said. It is truth. Deal with it. I would have said all this to Grandma had I not been my chicken self. How can I persuade her to throw in the towel and ban me from the village?

Grandma's breath that kept switching from hot to cold brushed on my warm skin. "What did you say, Witch?" She grabbed my shoulders. Her sharp nails pierced my skin. "What did you just say?"

I kept quiet. I wanted to be alone with Snoopy.

Snoopy bounced into my room and rested his adorable front paws on my thigh. His tail was wagging. I wanted to scoop him up and rush out of the house. I would not stop running until we were somewhere safe. In an area where the villagers would never find me. I preferred to stay in Forlot. At least, for now. It is my only home.

Where could I stay? I had nowhere else to flee. Nobody would welcome me with open arms only because of my outfit. Nobody with a working brain would invite some witch. They would never believe that I am not a witch.

Maybe Grandma will end my pathetic life now. Maybe. I really did not want to die. I still do not. But death was better than being a slave to my own family.

"I will rip out that tongue!" Grandma shouted. Spit fell on my face. Disgusting! "Tongues are useless if witches and warlocks cannot talk!"

I kept my tongue in my mouth and bit it. She would rip out my tongue over my dead body! I would rip out hers before she got ahold of mine! I tried getting up, but she was strong for a grandma.

Rather than answering the question, I asked, "Why can you not get rid of me?!"

Grandma let go of my shoulders and straightened back up. "Both the family and I explained it too many times. So try remembering it and encouraging yourself to be a witch."

I stood and balled my hands into fists. I wanted to sock her face. Break her nose or bruise one of her eyes. Both would feel great! I lifted my foot forward and slammed it down as hard as I could. My face was hot. "Get rid of me already! Throw me away! I do not care what you do to me! Kill me! Kick me out of the rotten village! I hate you and our family! No. Your family! You are no longer my family! I hate you, Grandma! I hate you!"