Gold Dust Woman

𝔰𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

fearful pranks ensue: part one

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

When I look out my window, many sights to see.

& when I look out my window, so many different people to be.

They're strange, so strange. It's very strange to me.

You've got to pick up every stitch.

Must be the season of the witch.

Season of the Witch

Lana Del Rey

1:20 ──────༓────────────── 4:07

THE CHIRPING OF CRICKETS KEPT HER AWAKE throughout the night, or, at least, that was what Corey told herself. She couldn't allow herself to fall asleep again after her nightmare. It felt too painful, too real. She had emerged from her slumber in a quick lurch, feeling as though she was being suffocated. It reminded her of the pain she had felt when Madison 'stole' her spell; the blonde's repayment to the new girl for making sure the man who hurt her couldn't do the same to anyone else.

By the time she willed herself out of bed, the sun was beginning to rise. Corey tossed the comforter to the side, her bare feet sticking to the wood as they touched the floor. She couldn't stay in her bedroom any longer.

Couldn't spend another moment in an otherwise empty bed with a cat that was more attached to Madison than herself.

Couldn't believe that she had let herself fall asleep before Madison came home.

Couldn't sit and stare at the blonde's pillow as it lost the impression of her head the further time ticked on.

Couldn't spend another second battling with herself on whether she was just seeing things or if someone had been in her bedroom the moment she had shot up from her deep sleep.

She reached into her bedside table, pulling out her pack of cigarettes. She let one rest between her lips, focusing for a fraction of a second to light it without digging through her dirty clothes, which laid in piles on the floor, in search of a lighter.

She wandered out of her bedroom and down the hallway, the jingle of a black cat trotting after her the only sound aside from the creaking floorboards. Pinks and purples reflected against the walls as she nudged the door to Madison and Zoe's bedroom open without thinking. She had been so used to the room housing one witch that she moved on muscle memory, forgetting for a moment that the room hadn't solely belonged to Madison anymore.

Zoe sprawled out in her bed, laying on her stomach as she read through a tattered and torn copy of 'The Price of Salt' by Patricia Highsmith. Corey recognized the copy as Madison's and her shoulders relaxed; the tension she hadn't realized she'd been holding in melted away. Zoe looked up over the edge of her book, the scent of cinnamon, toasted tobacco, and smoke that followed the redhead having caught her attention.

"Corey?" She asked, her brow furrowed. She was confused, unsure as to why the witch had entered her room so early in the morning. Corey's eyes drifted over to Madison's empty bed, the sheets taut against the mattress. Her chest quivered as she took in a breath.