The Witches Curse

Chapter 1 - The haze

The crisp autumn wind whipped through the suburban streets of Willow Creek, carrying the sharp scent of fallen leaves and the distant echo of children's laughter on Halloween night. Orange pumpkins glowed from porch stoops, their flickering candlelight casting elongated shadows that danced like mischievous spirits across the sidewalks. Amidst the festive chaos, eighteen-year-old Alice trudged along the cracked pavement, her cheerleader uniform— a tight red and white skirt paired with a cropped top that hugged her toned, athletic frame— feeling more like a costume than her usual attire. Her long blonde ponytail swung with each irritated step, and she clutched a plastic pumpkin bucket in one hand while her little brother, Timmy, scampered ahead in his makeshift ghost sheet, his excited giggles piercing the cool air. All Alice could think about was Kris, her boyfriend, waiting back at his place with that teasing smile and the promise of a night that would finally cross the line they'd been dancing around for months. Instead, here she was, babysitting duty thrust upon her by their overworked parents, her stomach twisting with a mix of resentment and unspoken longing.

As they approached the next house, a grand Victorian on the corner draped in fake cobwebs and glowing jack-o'-lanterns, Timmy bolted forward, his sheet trailing like a spectral tail. "Come on, Alice! This one looks awesome!" he shouted, his voice high and eager. She forced a smile, her green eyes scanning the scene with feigned enthusiasm, though her mind wandered to Kris's strong arms and the way his touch always left her skin tingling. The door creaked open before they even reached it, revealing a woman with wild, silver-streaked hair and eyes that glinted like polished obsidian. "Trick or treat," Alice muttered half-heartedly, holding out the bucket, but something in the air shifted— a faint, sweet aroma of spiced cookies and herbs that made her pulse quicken unnaturally. Timmy grabbed his candy and dashed off to the next house, oblivious, leaving Alice standing there a moment too long, drawn in by the woman's knowing grin.

The witch— though Alice didn't know it yet— stepped aside, her voice a silky whisper that cut through the night. "Why don't you come in, dear? You look like you need a treat yourself." Alice hesitated, the wind chilling her bare arms, but the invitation pulled at her like an invisible thread. She glanced down the street, where Timmy was already out of sight, and thought, just a quick stop wouldn't hurt. Stepping inside, the warmth enveloped her, rich with the scent of cinnamon and something darker, more intoxicating. The door clicked shut behind her, and a strange haze settled over her thoughts, the outside world fading as the woman's eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made Alice's heart race in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.