www.whyville.net Dec 25, 2011 Weekly Issue

Guest Writer

Special: Part 2

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When I woke up, I was being carried away from a red mini-cooper. What a dumb getaway car. The large man carrying me was the one whose boot had high-fived my face earlier, so I wasn't to overjoyed to be near him.

"LET. GO. OF. ME!" I shrieked. Surprised at my sudden outburst, the jerk dropped me onto the concrete under us.

Well, not exactly the reaction I was going for, but I could roll with that. I took off sprinting in the opposite direction. Seeing as I had never been handcuffed before then, I had no idea how difficult running with your hands behind you would be. Well, long story short, I made it about 4 yards, then fell. On my face.

So then the big guy came and picked me up. I didn't struggle, because I knew I wouldn't be escaping on foot. Even if (miraculously) I did escape on foot, where would I go? There was nothing but trees as far as I could see.

The men took me inside and put me on an ugly couch. Then they turned and walked out of the room. Once they left, a short boy about my age walked in, and judging by the look on his face, he hadn't expected to see me there.

"Oh hey. I'm Drake. You must be a witch, right?" he asked.

He seemed nice, but seriously?! I had just been kidnapped, knockout out, taken to some random house, and now some short guy was asking if I was a witch? I ignored him.

"Um, ok? I get that it's kinda weird here at first, but you don't have to act like a snob." Drake said.

That did it.

"Well, I am so sorry to have hurt your feelings. Maybe if someone would tell me why I was here, I wouldn't be such a 'snob'. And it's none of your business if I am or am not a witch, now is it?" I told him sarcastically.

"Oh. I guess Larry hasn't explained it to you yet oh well. And I know your a witch, or you wouldn't be here. My mom was a witch, so I'm an elf. That's why I'm here. This is where people who can do magic come." Drake told me matter-of-factly.

"You're an elf? Ok. I'm a lochness monster. Get real. Just because your short doesn't mean you work for Santa." I told him rudely.

"No, elves aren't short. Well, I mean, I guess I am, but they look like normal people. Elves are just me versions of witches, and witches are girl versions of elves. Y'all do magic, we do magic, blah blah blah." He paused, looking at something over my shoulder.

I turned and saw a middle-aged man with dark hair.

"Hello, I'm Lawrence Edwards. But you may call me Larry. This is my home, and is now your home. You-"

He said, but I cut him off.

"Why do I have to stay here?" I asked.

"Do not interrupt me. Ever. I was explaining why you are here. How do I start this without scaring you? Well, there is a saying I use, 'Take a witches life, get it back twice.' You see, when a witch dies, she comes back to life. Twice. Once, to do purely evil things, once to do only good. We are going to, um, kill you . . . But then when you come back to life, we give you a test to see if it's your Evil or Good life. If it's evil, we kill you again, if it's good you work with us to help the world." He explained.

In my heart, I knew the part about me coming back twice was true. I started shaking, but I knew I couldn't prevent it. They were going to kill me. And I also knew they weren't going to let me live out my Good life. They were going to use my Evil one to do something awful.

That's when Larry took a knife out of his pocket, and walked towards me.

To be continued . . .


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