Returned (3 page)

Ever.

Why would someone run on a treadmill for fun? What was fun about it exactly? The lack of breath? A sweaty body? Exhaustion? Nope, she was more than content to sit on the sofa eating chocolate with no sign of perspiration in sight.

             
Slowing down, she came to
a
standstill
next to a cluster of terraced houses, the ones she’d seen in the distance. Up close, doors and window shutters were tastefully decorated in several pastel shades. The soft rainbow of colours lined the street to her left and directly ahead. This had to be the most colourful village she'd ever seen. Well, it was probably the first village she'd ever seen.
             
             
Wedged in between the houses were a few shops, the now famous butchers, a newsagent, a small handmade card shop, a post office and another shop. She couldn’t see the sign from this distance but she could see three figures occupying the space outside. There was nothing more than the few shops in front of her with a cobbled type road in the middle. Great, this was smaller than she first thought. What was she meant to do here? What did people do to pass the time away?

             
As she approached the unnamed shop, she was pleasantly surprised, although she shouldn’t be judging by the rainbow of colours already used in the village. Soft egg white beautifully complimented the window shutters and the door which were painted in a deep forest green. The building was stood quite crookedly, something Cora found odd considering the shop was stood at a wonky angle in the middle of two houses that stood square.

             
The three figures that occupied the space outside the shop were witches and were dressed in what she considered to be the stereotypical long cloak and black pointed hat, each of them held an anaemic broom at their sides. Pulling off her gloves she lifted her hand and edged closer to the smaller, hunched figure of the three. She knew they weren’t real, you could see that but she still had to touch. She had this uncontrollable urge to touch or lift things, this usually resulted in her breaking items.

             
The long grey hair held underneath the stiff pointed black hat felt straw like in her hands. The crooked nose with the typical wart on the edge of it was chipped, the witch’s face showing an ugly dull grey through the already pale green face. A shadow cast itself over Cora and the witch. Her hand stopped exploring mid-air as she prepared to turn and face the stranger who was stood far too close to her.

“Watch out!”

Shocked by the yell, Cora jumped back right into the stranger. Before she could get her bearings
,
she was roughly pushed away.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going,
witch
!”

Spinning around in shock, she faced him and immediately flinched under his intimidating glare.

             
His chocolate brown eyes ablaze with fury literally burned her. He stood a little taller than her not so short five feet seven inches, her head just reaching his shoulders. He was flagged by two boys who looked like something you might see in every comedy film, the ring leader followed by dumb and dumber. One boy was small with an oval shaped face and was smiling like a Cheshire cat with a dopey look in his blue eyes. The other boy, tall and skinny, had a bowl hair cut that flowed over his eyes making them practically invisible. Only his stupid crooked grin could be seen under his mop of blonde hair. How he managed to actually see anything was beyond her. 

             
It just so happens that on her first morning in this village she bumps into what appears to be the crazy gang.  The leader’s eyes looked over her,
every
inch of her. She suddenly felt shy, this was stupid really considering he wasn't looking at her in
that
way. It was quite obvious that he didn't like what he saw, the distasteful expression gave that away. Well, she wasn't that keen on what stood in front of her either. She levelled him a you’re-not-all-that-interesting-either stare.

             
He continued to look at her. Words weren’t exchanged. What was happening? Why was she the one being targeted? She'd been stood on the pavement minding her own business, it wasn't liked she'd kicked his dog or something. She couldn’t find her voice to tell him to back off. Her mouth was so dry her tongue was sticking to the roof of it. His friends laughed encouraging him like they took note of his facial expressions. 

“Sorry witch, I can’t hear you.” He lifted his hands to his ears cupping them in an exaggerated manner.

This only encouraged more laughter from the two idiots stood on either side of him. He smirked, a little quirk of his lips and that one look made her stomach dance around like it was doing an Irish jig.

             
Anger surged through her and pushed her nerves aside. For some bizarre reason she felt the urge to punch him in the face. She'd never felt that urge. Why did she feel so angry? Sure, she would usually feel confounded as to why this boy was intimidating her, but to feel this amount of anger was more than unusual. What was it about him that angered her so much? She curled her fist, felt the pinch of her short nails in her flesh. She didn’t really know how to hit someone but she sure as hell wasn't going to scratch him like a girl.

             
Ice cold wind surged around her. She sucked in a breath and watched with her heart in her mouth as the wind circled only her. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. On the undercurrents of the wind she could hear a hint of laughter. She let out a breath feeling her head spin like a ballerina. The boys stood in front of her weren't laughing. The excited laughter grew louder as the wind seemed to swirl around her increasing in speed.

             
The leader’s lopsided grin was still in place, the curve of his lips Cupid’s bow in shape. His lips along with the coffee brown chocolate eyes and the strong jaw line made him appear more man than boy. It was a shame the personality didn’t quite fit for her. He was annoying, aggressive, and he was a bully.  This information had been thrown at her within the first five seconds of meeting him.

             
Cora stood straighter, and without thinking crossed her arms over her chest hoping this looked defensive. She couldn't punch him; she didn't even know how to form a fist properly and would no doubt do more damage to her hand than to his face. Her stomach was rolling around somewhere near the top of her chest.  She didn’t like this one
bit;
confrontation was something she avoided unless it was with her mother.

             
The wind seemed to pulse from within her, it lashed out at him, whipping his stomach with a mastered precision. He stumbled, a look of confusion creased the lines around his eyes. How was she able to see the wind? No one could see the wind. It was just always
there
. The boy righted himself, his eyes narrowed angrily. The wind swirled around her again as laughter seemed to dance right through her.

             
He stepped closer, each step making her heart thud that little bit harder. She wouldn’t back off, wouldn’t give him the pleasure. He moved into her personal space making her level of uncomfortable move into extremely unbearable.  His strategic move was forcing her closer to the figures outside the shop. Why had she crossed her arms? Now she had no way of defending herself. Mentally kicking herself for her stupidity, she edged b
ackwards having no other option. H
e stood in the way of her only exit. She felt the pointy finger of a witch stick painfully in her back. Holding back a wince, she took a deep breath to tell him to back off.

“I think it would be very wise that you do not touch her.”

The voice was soft but it held the bite of anger. It had come from somewhere behind her but she didn't look, she couldn't take her eyes off him. She didn't trust him, hardly surprising considering he'd managed to inflict pain without touching her. She could already feel a bruise forming on her back. The leader threw back his head and laughed enjoying the whole show but she noticed that he did cautiously back away which allowed her room to move.

             
Shaking her head in frustration
,
she moved away from the witches on the pavement but made sure to keep her focus on him. She couldn’t believe that she’d stood there with no words of retaliation. Her first day in this
apparently
quiet village and this had already happened. She watched the three boys strut up the main street and wished she'd said something to him. She had a really good retort now that he'd gone.

Typical.

She glared at them, particularly him, as they walked away. Why had her mother moved here?

             
A polite cough interrupted her thoughts. Turning, she faced the stranger and her mouth dropped open. The woman was gorgeous, Cora couldn't find any other word to describe her. It sounded stupid really, describing someone as gorgeous was a little over the top, but in this case the word didn't do the woman justice.  Her long coal black hair complimented her creamy complexion, the soft raspberry blush of her cheeks giving her a healthy glow. The intense leaf green of her eyes stood out against her pale skin. Cora caught a flicker of something cross her face, a slight twitch of her full rose tinted lips, her slim brow flinched once and then her face seemed to smooth out again.

             
Cora, not really caring if she was caught staring, looked from the woman's intriguing face and followed the length of her hair.  It hung in locks which were full and bouncy and not the kind of knotted mess Cora would normally have if she tried to curl her hair. The woman was wearing a long dress but it appeared to be more of a robe thing. The robes kissed the floor as she walked towards her creating dark liquid pools at her feet. The flowing material fit her body highlighting her perfect curves. The robe was just one single colour, a deep dark luxurious purple split by a slim green belt which was wrapped around her small waist.

“Now, I suppose you're very cold,” the woman spoke breaking the silence.

Cora didn’t really know what to say. She'd been a little bit occupied with the crazy boy and the wind that somehow laughed and danced around her. The cold hadn’t entered her mind.

             
The woman
gestured for her to enter the weird shop with the bright green window shutters and the three peeling witches. She shouldn't enter a shop with a stranger, but she’d come to her rescue and the least she could do was thank her.

“Please come in for a warm drink, you must be very cold in this weather,” the woman repeated.

             
In a daze Cora felt a hand being placed lightly at the bottom of her back gently forcing her towards the door. Cora allowed herself to be led into the shop with this mysterious beautiful woman. She took one last look at the three watchful witches keeping guard outside and entered the shop called
The Broom Cupboard.

Chapter 3

THINGS AREN'T WHAT THEY APPEAR TO BE

The shop could only be described as small but that hadn’t deterred the woman from making the most of it. The shelves were cluttered with a mish-mash of everything.

             
Cauldrons, every size imaginable, broomsticks and huge pillar candles were scattered on the waist high cabinet to her left. Two slim line book shelves, one under the other, were held on the wall, the woman hadn’t used you
r everyday typical nail,
she could see the nail was shaped like a witch on a broom. Fascinating. Never had she seen nails shaped like that.

             
The shelves began at the bay window, the window was enclosed and housed several more witchy items, and continued all the way to the back of the shop. Other than the thousands of books, the shelves also held hundreds of tiny bottles and ornaments, liquid and what looked like sand sat inside each. The colour blends were so vibrant, so beautiful, that the light used had been purposefully placed so that it shot through the bottles casting a majestic rainbow of colours against the pale walls.

             
Cora felt uncomfortable stood in the doorway.  If truth be known she was suffering from a multitude of feelings. She was dying to touch the rainbow of colours and look at the ornaments but at the same time she was nervous, something felt wrong, but it also felt right at the same time. Usually when these moments happened, the wrong feeling always,
always
, trumped the right feeling. She should leave but something was keeping her here. She fought the urge to pull her index nail into her mouth and nibble, an old habit she was trying stop. The woman had vanished somewhere leaving her stood looking stupid and awkward. This was nothing new.