30 minutes to write this. Thank you again for taking the time to read my story from a writing prompt.
Writing Prompt #1,260
You feel like your coven has held you back your entire life, expecting you to follow rule after rule. It has never made any sense to you why witches, with all their power, go out of their way to repress it. That isn't how you want to live your life. You want power and to use your magic whenever and wherever you choose. One night, while the coven is out celebrating the sabbat beneath the full moon, you make your escape and head far away to the first bustling city you find. Right away you use your magic to extort every elected official you encounter, going unchallenged every step along the way. Within five years, you've used your magic to be elected mayor, with everyone of importance in your pocket. Life is perfect. Then one day you receive a letter in the mail, the words spelled out with letters cut out from magazines. The letter is blackmailing you over your witchcraft. Someone knows of your dark secret and wants to be paid off. Furious, you try to use your magic to discover who sent it, but you can't, which makes you realize someone possessing magic must be the culprit. Immediately you suspect your coven. Who else can possibly know enough to attempt to blackmail you? But you need more evidence. You hire an attractive private investigator to work the case, someone who knows about your kind and can get to the bottom of any situation. But what he uncovers is more than you bargained for.
I walk up to Mose Locater. I heir this guy to help me find my stalker. Through I don’t think he is going to find anything. I haven’t been able to find anything with my magic. But none the less I have to try it. ‟Okay, please tell me you found something about my family?” I ask Jake, the private investigator.
‟Sophia, your not really a witch.” He says flipping open the folder on the desk. ‟You’re a angel.”
‟I didn’t come to you for you to look into me!” I snap at him. ‟Also, If I’m an angle why don’t I have wings then?” I ask him. ‟Angles are elegant. I’m far from elegant! Even with all the training I’ve had.”
‟Well, I was looking for your stalker and then came across something that I couldn’t pass up looking more into. So, here’s the thing. You’ve be cursed. Your angle abilities have been locked away. You able to use magic but your not as powerful as you can be.” He says reading over a piece of paper.
‟How do I break the curse?” I say folding my hands in my lap. Something’s not right here. Why is he pushing this and not looking into my stalker.
