B.W.A - Witch Trials
Black Witch Attitude Witch Trials
Chapter 2 Summer’s End
  Camille had woken up tired. Her summer was nearly at an end and soon her mother would be by to pick her up, but she’d packed her things anyway, and made her way down stairs to find her aunt making breakfast. Music was loudly playing and Melona swayed with the temperament of the deep voiced songstress. The room smelled of cooked fruit and, “Pancakes? You’re in a good mood,” Camille mused.
Melona looked back with a warm smile, the gentle wrinkles and crinkles around her eyes the only thing telling of her age. It was the kind of patient smile one would give to a child, but Camille wasn’t a child anymore. And she saw worry in the look, “Aunt Luna,” she began hesitantly.
“You’ve grown up so fast,” Melona interrupted. “I remember when you were just four, your wishcraft getting you into trouble, or eight, writing better spells than most seasoned witches. By the time your were twelve.. Oh how you reminded me of your mother, so stubborn, so alive. You’ll be sixteen this year, and there will be so many changes. I know that right now, I sound crazy, but trust me. Every witch comes to this point and you will have to decide who you’ll become,” she flipped the pancake.
“You sound like one of those teen novels, maybe be less cryptic.”
Melona smiled. “There’s that teen attitude. Remember that wit and stubborness, when the world knocks you down.”
“Aunt Luna,” Camille repeated, stubbornly.
“I can’t be less cryptic, because I don’t know rightly what will happen.”
“Comforting.”
“Camille, you are still a child, by all rights, and no matter how sensible, the world is hard, and cruel. I want to protect you, to prepare you, but I can’t. This year, you must decide who it is you wish to be. That is just the way it is. There will be test, and they will show your true self. Your mother refused and she lost her magic. I found my way to being a green witch, and you, oh my dear. You are so many things, a child brimming with energy, wit, and sarcasm. You will find your way, I believe that. Just remember, Protect Your Magic.”
Camille knew her face was doing that thing. The thing it did when her mother told her to be safe and not to talk to any strangers, as if she didn’t know. She was 15 for christ sake! And while she normally wouldn’t have rolled her eyes, or conflicted with her aunt. This sounded like a load of bologna. She caught the side eye she caught from her aunt out of the corner of her and quickly fixed her face back on right.Â
“I’ll remember,” she responded after clearing her throat. She didn’t really mean to give her attitude, but, well, with Camille it came naturally.
“You betta, girl.”
The rest of the morning went pleasantly enough, breakfast was good. Melona taught Camille one last protection spell, making sure the girl took not in her grimoire before Melona took the book and packed in a suitcase. The thing must have been an antique because the leather was worn as hell. Camille noted that the case was packed with other things, but she didn’t question it, Melona always did weird things and rarely did she explain properly, but Camille liked that about her. She was certain that it had to do with her 16th birthday, and all of the riddling her Aunt had done.
When her mother arrived, Camille was hesitant to leave. Well, she wasn’t, but her energy, her soul wished to stay in the house that was so much her spiritual home, her temple. It felt like it was the last time, as if she’d never see the home the same way again, as if she were going to leave her childhood behind the way her brothers had. Louis hadn’t even spoken to their Aunt since he left for college 4 years prior. Even Trevor had only just gone off to Berkley, he tried to keep in contact but even she only got the briefest phone calls usually ending with a, “If you need anything just call!” or something similar. But that was a load of crock because he took two days just to text her back and his messages were twice as vague as anything Melona said, and that said a lot.
Camille was staring at the lilac Victorian home so hard, as they drove away, that she hadn’t even realized her mother was speaking to her until -
Whap! Her mother popped her on the back of her head just hard enough to startle her. It didn’t hurt, but Camille still moved her hand to rub the spot and scowled at her mother. “I didn’t do anything!” she bit at her mother.
“You betta get dat bass from ya voice when you talkin’ to me girl,” her mother warned, her accent was always so much. “You listen to Melona too much, head’s in clouds.”
Camille sighed and slouched in her seat. “At least she listens back.” There was that side eye, it was like some sort of family trait, but it seemed, Camille hadn’t inherited it. Which just made her more irritated really. “I didn’t do anything,” she grumbled to herself.
“I’m glad you going back to school this week.”
And Camille was to now.
