Write a blog post inspired by the word: dark.
Good things never came in the dark. That’s what Eloise told herself. There was always a light on at her house. Always.
Still, that didn’t stop the darkness from creeping in on her. Day after day, the weight of the dark settled on her chest, settling in a bit heavier with each breath.
She knew it was coming. Her mother was a witch, and her mother a witch before her. Eloise knew it was just a matter of time, and her twenty-first birthday, before the darkness overtook her soul, replacing the artistic heart she’d spent her life cultivating, with one that focused on the phases of the moon and potions, instead.
It would all happen in her dreams, the night of her twenty-first birthday, this much she knew. But no one in the coven, and most certainly not her maternal figures, would tell her anything more than that. She hated surprises, they sent her into panic attacks, which is the only reason they’d told her this much. The last thing the tiny coven needed was to lose a newbie to anxiety.
Still, on the last night of her twentieth year, she put off sleep. She cleaned the house. She baked cookies. She cleaned the kitchen, again. She binged on shows on Netflix. Her mother had even tried to cast a sleeping spell on her, which she’d successfully dodged by passing up the glass of wine she’d been offered. The fact it was smoking might have been her first clue. You’re going to have to do better than that, Mom.
Her grandmother was up next, but with her extra years, she was a bit more subtle, but yet her proffered drink smelled of rotting apples, a hallmark ingredient of sleeping curses. Eloise may not be a witch—yet—but she knew their tricks. The two older women in her life had trademark, if not completely predictable, moves.
She settled on the couch and clutched a throw pillow to her chest, her eyes glued onto the television. Fog crept in under the door and snaked its way through windows she thought were closed.
“Mo-om,” she called, her breaths coming in quick succession.
There was no answer.
“Good things don’t come in the dark,” she muttered, her chest heaving with rapid-fire breaths.
On ominous voice in her head answered. “All good things come in the dark. Embrace your darkness.”
A large clap of thunder followed, and she dropped to the floor.
She awakened, to blinding lights, and was face-to-face with a man who could only be described as Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
“Nothing good comes from…” she muttered, trailing off as her head throbbed and thinking of words hurt.
“Everything good comes in the darkness,” Tall, Dark, and Handsome said. “Arise, Eloise, Princess of the Night.”
Princess of the Night? I’m in some campy horror flick now.
“Princess, princess, princess…” The rhythmic chant of the word echoed around her, a beautiful repetition that fell into synchronization with her heart, grew louder until all members of the coven made themselves visible.
Her mother stood at the front of the room, chanting her own incantation.
“On the day of your twenty-first trip around the sun
Your heard and darkness will become one
My sweet child, you’ve had your rest,
Embrace your new soul, Princess.”
Eloise closed her eyes, squinching them so tightly that her face hurt, but a gentle hand rested on her shoulder. She opened one eye. It was TDH.
“Relax, Princess. The transformation is already complete. Make your rhyme and cast your first spell.”
Oh, he was cute. That dimple on his chin, those chocolate eyes, and stubble—damn did some light stubble turn her on. He was not the type to ever give her black-rimmed glasses-wearing, hair-always-in-a-messy-bun, jeans-and-combat-boot-wearing self a second glance. The fact he spoke to her twice in two minutes was gift enough on her birthday.
Still… there wouldn’t be any harm in testing his theory, now would there?
She stood and took a deep breath.
“Tonight, on the anniversary of my birth
I ask for one thing of worth
The man before me is pretty fly
Now let me feel that stubble on my inner thigh.”
The other members of the coven gasped and averted their eyes as TDH stepped forward. His hand cupped the back of her neck as he pulled her lips to meet his.
“This is not my thigh,” she whispered against his mouth.
“All in good time, your highness.” He picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles.
Without a glance back at the witchy women, he carried her to the bedroom. The lights were off, and she made a move to flip the switch as they passed. He covered her hand with his.
“Relax your fears
It’s just you and me here
But I assure you, no spell necessary
You are the one I’m destined to marry.
Beautiful daughter of the coven matriarch,
I’m going to prove that good things come in the dark.”