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Town Legend
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Sarah was quite tall for a girl. She was at least 5’6 which put her six feet over me. She was not only tall but had the shape of a model, all legs and a very curvaceous body. She was blonde and blue eyed, ticking off each box for a heroine in every stereotypical high school teen movie there was. I just hoped she wasn't as vain and mean as them.
I clasped her hand gratefully. “Nice to meet you Sarah. I'm Kiera. Kiera Ba….Brooke.”
My new surname was going to take some getting used to. I don't know how mother had done it, but she had convinced someone at the records office that not only had we been victims of a house fire, we had no families whatsoever seeing as she was a single woman raised in the orphanage and my dad was dead.
We got new names, papers a
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Kiera's POV(Continued)"Human existence is on the brink of extinction." Nana Brooke's voice broke the weird silence that ensued after that horrific show. "They're tired of being in the shadows. They want to rule. Your gift is the only thing stopping them. It is also the only thing that can help they become victorious." Talk about a double edged sword.I turned to her, shell-shocked. "My gift?"She nodded lightly. "Yes, the gift of the flame. It was given to me by William." My mind flashed back to Whitlock's terrified ramblings. It was the flame he'd been trying to hide from 'the traitor.'"I come from a long line of witches Kiera. But we were different. We can't cast spells like other witches -some say it meant we were weak. We only have a particular strength we excelled in and could do well. My mother's was making illusions. She was the strongest there was. Apart from these strengths, we are spec
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Kiera's POV(Continued) Reluctantly, I did as she said. "Whoare you?" I wondered. Where was I? That was the next question on my tongue, but I wanted to put a name to the face first. Why did it feel like I should know who she was? "Why, I am Nana Brooke." "You don’t look like a nana."I declared succinctly. Every time I hear the word nana, I always picture an old womanwith a long gown, blue shower-cap and a large wooden spoon. Instead she wore a trim ice blue gownand comfy shoes. Her black hair was gleaming and in a short bob. "The afterlife must be pretty neat." She laughed heartily. Even her laugh was familiar. "We are not inthe afterlife child." Oh, thank goodness. I wasn't dead yet. "Then whereare we?" "Somewhere in the in-between." She has black eyes just like me,
