My parents tell me they birthed me, the townsfolk have a different story. They say I, a lone baby girl, was found in a witch's hut by my father on one of his hunting trips.

I tend to believe their version more.

The town's youths named me “Witch’s child” or “Wicked White” due to my ghastly pale skin. Every once in a while I have visions of a land far away, of a broken man betrayed by everything he once protected and abided by.

The visions are brief but intense. They tend to render me immobile in a comatose state for hours and sometimes even days. My mother thinks my health is the issue, and those are just some types of seizures, but I and my father know otherwise.

Fun fact, my black is opposite my skin; it runs black and is extremely thick. Like some of this “Oil,” I saw in one of my visions of the other world. That other world has extremely complex and massive mechanization, giant metals that release fume and metal pencils that explode on impact.

Due to all the information stated above, I only managed to befriend one kid of the townsfolk–much to the dismay of his parents.

‘Bobby! Bobby wake up!’ I half whispered, leaning over the half-open window and letting in the chilly night air. ‘Bobby!’ I called out again, louder this time. ‘A-Aayne?’ he opened his eyes yawning with a bit of drool smeared on his pillow. He had sleek black hair going just over his eyes and wore a hand-me-down onesie.

‘What time is it?’ ‘Midnight.’ I pointed a crooked finger to the bright moon lighting the night skies. ‘Full moon tonight–now let's go.’

Without leaving much space for bobby to argue, I hopped off his window onto a patch of leaves that used to be neatly organized. Bobby soon came out the front door, dressed in his torn clothes yet shiny and well-taken-care of leather shoes. His family wasn't off too well, which is why he didn't have many friends; which is why he is stuck with me.

‘Where are we headed?’ Bobby asked, following my steps out of town. ‘To the witch's hut,’ I replied. He then paused in his tracks, stuttering lightly ‘N-no way!’ ‘Yes, way.’ ‘No–last time we did that my parents whipped me for an hour! I still experience trouble when sitting down!’ Bobby complained, stomping his foot angrily. ‘Well, this time it's different.’ I began to haggle, climbing over a tree trunk blocking the path; probably for a reason. It is quite rare when Bobby resists mine wants this much. ‘How different?’ ugh–is he seriously pouting right now?? ‘Last time I didn't spike your parents’ scented candles with aromatic ‘shrooms, so even if they wake up, they will be way too high to even talk.’

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That's another thing I learnt from the other world, “High on ‘shrooms”, apparently some powerful “psychedelic”; it basically makes you feel funny. I think. I’ve found my word and his have many things in common, these so called “shrooms” not excluded. ‘High?’ Bobby repeated in a confused tone.

‘Dizzy, nauseous.’ I saved myself the complicated and scientifically accurate explanation; To be fair his tiny brain probably couldn't comprehend it anyway. ‘A-alright, but only this once!’ Finally, he broke.

Bobby then climbed past the trunk as well, following me quickly beyond the barred road. It didn't take us long to arrive at the witch's hut from the towns, about twenty minutes until it came of view. It was mossy and ancient, surrounded by a swamp. ‘Classy.’ I couldn't help myself from saying. I stopped in front of the lake, looking at my reflection. My hair was shiny and black, my pigtails were a bit ruffled up and messy, and most of my skin was covered by a black pilgrim-like dress and headdress. I looked hideous–which being honest didn't bother me a shred.

‘Was this cat always there?’ Bobby questioned, pointing to a slim black cat eyeing us from above the broken roof. I shrugged, pulling my dress above knee height as I started walking towards the hut, soaking my shoes. Bobby was close behind as we stepped onto the porch. ‘I dunno, maybe we just never saw it?’ I counter-offered, however now that he said it, that cat is giving us one nasty bum look.

Each time our shoes connected to the floorboards, they creaked ominously, the mud we left in our steps weighing us down. It took our combined effort to push open the door as it tumbled and crashed onto the floor, breaking a part of it just enough so we can see our demise below.

This hut felt as if at any moment the swamp would overtake it; swallowing us with it, never to be seen again.

The inside of it was mostly empty, broken window panes in the form of glass scattered across the one room. The bookshelves were already emptied out and burnt by the townsfolk before I was born–decades ago in fact. No matter how many times I searches, I couldn't find any item of interest nor anything that would point to my origin. ‘Look!’ Bobby called out, cutting my string of thought short ‘The cat!’ I then raised an eyebrow, noticing the cat skillfully slide between the broken glass shards, jumping onto the floor gracefully before then beginning to lick itself.

‘Mrrewo~’ It purred, rubbing against my leg. ‘Seems he likes you.’ Bobby cheered, kneeling over to pet the cat. ‘Don't.’ I stopped him ‘One bite or scratch and you die from one of the many diseases it's carrying.’ Bobby almost laughed at me; my death stare forcing him silent as he got up and looked disappointed.d The black cat then looked up at me, blinking slowly. ‘Let's head back.’ I sighed, making my way out.

Our adventure ended soon after; I escorted Bobby home before going to my own. I slid in through the hole in the attic; big enough just for me to go through. Our house was positioned at the edge of town near a hill, and so with a bit of effort I manage to hop onto our roof; going through the aforementioned hole.

A safety hazard worth its risk.

I undressed, getting into my nightgown and into my bed. The cat had apparently followed me home, as I just noticed it was watching me silently from my bedroom window.

‘Creep.’ I muttered, closing the lids to my eyes.