I was born a witch. My mother was what you would think is a witch. The typical black hair and crooked nose with a hook. I wasn’t. I never even knew, until when I found my mother downstairs today. I was born on June
14, 2000; which make me ten years old. I was in fifth grade because I was
smarter and they let me move ahead. I have beautiful blond hair, not like my
mother’s black, and blue eyes, unlike my mother’s green. I never knew my
father; he probably left when he found out what my mother was. We have a black
cat with green eyes which I named Salem, I know pretty ironic. Back to how I
found out about it.
I got home from school, early because study hall was canceled due to there being no teacher. I walked home as I usually do. The day was stormy. Black clouds covered the sun,
and it was Monday. It was windy and I almost dropped my books. As I walked in
the door of my house, thunder cracked overhead. I breathed in, as I usually do
when I come home from school because usually some good smell hits my nose. I
take my jacket off and hang it on the hook and shut the door behind me.
Something was different, I remember telling myself. My mother usually greets me
as soon as I get home. But I got home early, so maybe she was busy I thought to
myself. I hear a noise and look around.
It was my cat, Salem. He meows and rubs against my legs. I walk to the kitchen,
the door to the basement was left open, and I hear a noise down there. My legs carry me forward and I creep down the
steps quickly and quietly. I see my mother sitting in front of a huge pot-
almost like one of those cauldrons you see on Halloween movies. There was a black
cat next to her, but it was not Salem. It’s green eyes flashed towards me and I
ducked back up the steps. I listened closely as my mother whispered something.
What was going on? What kind of dream was that? I walk back down and look at my
She whirls around quickly and stares at me blinking. “I’m so sorry Orient. I should have told you a long time ago.”
I blink at her and look at the pot thing. “What is that?” I demand of her.
She sighs softly. “I always thought you were too young to understand but now I have to tell you.” She looks down at her pot.
“Tell me what?” I ask and stare at her, trying to catch her eye but she avoids my gaze.
“You are one, like me.” She starts off still not looking at me.
“Of course I am like you, I am your daughter.” I say and laugh nervously.
“No. You are a witch.” She announces.
I laugh nervously. “Yeah like I can fly on a broomstick.”
She shakes her head and looks up at me, meeting my gaze with a calm look. “Yes you can. We are ancestors of the witches of Salem.”
I laugh we were learning about this in school. Of course, I was not one of those freaks.
“I know it’s in your blood, because of what you named you’re cat two years ago.” She replies and meets my gaze.
“Salem? That was just because I read that book series, Salem Ghosts.” I reply with disbelief.
“Next year, you will be switching schools,” she says and looks down at the black cat.
“We’re moving?” I question her.
She shakes her head softly. “No. You will be going to Mariannett’s School for Young Witches.”
I stared at her in disbelief. What kind of sick joke is this I asked mentally? I ran upstairs mad at her for playing such a cruel joke on me.
10 years later, and that is how I found out about being a witch. I did go to that school; spent the years of my life there. I learned and loved it. I would not give up anything to change it. I am a witch and am now
proud of it. I still have Salem, and cherish him close to my heart. My life
changed forever on that day, but if I could, I would live it over again. The
excitement the fear, it was a wild ride. Nevertheless, it was my ride. Currently,
I have many names. Some call me Orient. I am more commonly known as The Wicked
Witch of The West.