Rarely shared fiction

Earlier this year I entered a short story competition, held by Laura Thomas Communications. I didn't win. I didn't even get shortlisted. But I did have fun and I received a lot of useful advice, so it wasn't all in vain (I'm pretty sure I need to work on my endings...). Thanks to a drive to enter another competition, I didn't feel like writing much of a post today so here is my entry for your perusal:

Witches Aren't Born

Tansy Klemens, six year old chatterbox, had pushed her parents to exhaustion in anticipation of their visitor. She followed them around the house, pestering them with a hundred questions until they shut her in the playroom out of desperation. By five o’clock, Tansy had tired herself out and resigned to taking up a vigil by the window.

She saw the moment the mysterious guest arrived. A woman in a bright floral dress flew down in front of the house from a fluffy white cloud that descended gracefully from the sky. Once it was near the ground, the woman stepped off neatly and the cloud returned to its place in the sky.

As the woman approached the front door she looked up suddenly, locking eyes with Tansy. She grinned at the child’s awe-struck expression, a beautiful and sparkling smile that prompted Tansy to smile back.

Then the little girl bolted for the door, crying to be let out so she could meet the magical woman who had flown on a cloud.  It was Tansy’s mother who released the child from her playroom prison with a concerned expression for her daughter. The dark skinned woman seemed on the verge of giving her child a warning. Instead, Mrs Klemens touched Tansy’s head lightly and reminded her to be on her best behaviour to meet Aunt Nimah.

All the way down the stairs, Tansy was jittering with excitement. She had been told just two things about her aunt: she was her mother’s older sister, and she had been travelling the world since before Tansy was born. Tansy ached to know more about her. Had she seen the whole world? Could she always fly? She clearly had all her teeth, so couldn’t be as old as Nana Brown or Granny Klemens – but how old was she, exactly?

When Tansy finally stood in front of her aunt, she was at a loss for words. Aunt Nimah’s appearance was that of a woman just out of her teenage years, her youthful beauty casting a glow on the lounge.

A nudge from her father recovered Tansy’s manners and she bobbed a short curtsey with a murmur of “how do you do”. Aunt Nimah giggled and returned the curtsey mockingly. This signalled a green light to Tansy who was off with her questions, wanting to know every detail about Aunt Nimah’s life.

“What a sweetheart!” Aunt Nimah laughed as Tansy paused for breath. Aunt Nimah crouched down so that she was on the same level as her niece. “You look just as beautiful as your mum did at that age. But you’re just as curious as me!”

Tansy looked back at her parents delightedly – it was an honour to be compared with her imposing mother – and saw they wore matching faces of disapproval. That was nothing new to Tansy.

“Aunty Nimah, let’s go play with my dolls,” pleaded Tansy, reaching to tug on her aunt’s hand. The contact caused a painful electrical shock to zap Tansy’s small fingers and she recoiled. Her vision became blurry and the sounds of her parents’ matching cries of dismay echoed seemingly far away. Tansy struggled to breathe for a moment, clutching the front of her dress and gasping.

The episode lasted fifteen seconds and when it was over, Tansy half expected nobody to realise anything had happened to her. This belief was somewhat strengthened when she realised she was being ignored; her parents and Aunt Nimah were busy yelling in each other’s faces.

Still shaken by the incident, Tansy could only catch a few words of the argument. The rest was muffled, as if she had her head under water.

“-known your kind would cause-”

“Manal, listen, it wasn’t-”

“-horrible-”

“We can’t live with-”

“Please, I-”

Tansy was only aware that she had been kicked out of her house when she was staring at the outside of it, clutching Aunt Nimah’s soft hand. Her parents’ angry voices were still ringing in her ears as she gazed up at Aunt Nimah for answers.

“Why don’t my parents want me anymore?” Tansy asked softly. Aunt Nimah exhaled heavily as she led Tansy away from the house on foot.

“You’re a very special girl, Tansy. You and I both have special powers that unfortunately, some people just don’t understand.”

“Powers?”

Aunt Nimah nodded. “We’re witches: the good kind.”

It was the only exciting thing to happen to her and Tansy wanted to be happy that she had magical powers. However, as she looked over her shoulder one last time at her home, it dawned on her that they would probably never return.

“Are you going to look after me?” asked Tansy, her voice a mixture of hope and sorrow.

“Yes,” Aunt Nimah said firmly. “But only if you want me to.”

“I do,” Tansy said at once. She paused for thought, gazing up at her aunt enquiringly. “Do my parents love me?” They stopped walking and Tansy realised they were standing in mid-air, far above the treetops and the ground. A blackbird whizzed by, unperturbed.

“In their way,” was the unhelpful reply.

Tansy grew anxious. “Do you love me?”

“Oh yes; you’re my favourite niece! I promise that we’re going to have lots of fun together and I’ll teach you how to do all sorts of spells - we can even travel the world! How does that sound?”

“It sounds…” Tansy swallowed. “Lovely.” Then she burst into loud sobs, large tears rolling down each cheek. Aunt Nimah hugged the child’s small frame to her chest as she wept inconsolably, and tried not to cry herself. Aunt Nimah was used to living life on a whim and now she had been charged with the care of her niece, who needed Aunt Nimah’s support more than anything. Tansy would experience the loneliness, self-loathing and tragedies Aunt Nimah herself had gone through.

At least Tansy had someone looking out for her.