Ever since I was a little girl, whenever the subject of witches was brought up, I would always picture this grotesque-looking mean old lady with badly wrinkled scaly skin, a long pointy nose, scanty dentition, the most hideous rabid-like eyes, and a morbid penchant for neonate cannibalism, wearing an ugly black robe and a matching pointy funny looking hat, with an old crooked staff or wand, and flying on a broomstick over the moonlit night sky. Considering I had never heard of or chanced upon anyone flying on a literal broomstick, or possessing some or all of the physical and behavioural attributes matching my mental thesis, as I grew older, my belief in the existence of witches grew uncertain and somewhat unreasonable. I saw it for what it was; a mere fallacy, an old wives' tale, a widely believed superstition, or so I thought. Little did I know that not only did witches exist, but they were, in fact, also normal regular people, like people you cross by the street, or maybe that next-door neighbour with everyday problems. Simply put, they were mostly the people you would least suspect, those you wouldn't even imagine. Take someone like my mother, for instance, the beautiful kind-hearted woman whom I've known my whole life, and who could never raise a finger at anyone, not even a blade of grass, and most ironically, myself, who had not even the slightest clue, that I was for a fact, the very thing which its existence I most doubted, I guess I never saw that one coming.
I sat on the bare grass under the shade of an apple tree in the Mason's garden, with both legs straight crossed, and father's journal lying on my lap, its pages spread open. I was on my thirty-minute break, almost done with my scrubbing and dusting. I was praying that the day's work be over soon so we could have our meals. My mouth was already watering from the tasty aroma of porridge coming from the kitchen. Meanwhile, I was more concerned about so many other things than hunger, there were still so many questions and thoughts in my mind about the letter I had read the previous night. I read the letter again that day, again and again. Though I was convinced Father was trying to tell me I was a witch, due to his reference to possession of strange abilities, I was still confused as to why he would refer to said powers as a curse. The questions were so many, but I was rest assured this was definitely a chance to finally avenge them. Their deaths had left this strange vacuum within me that I can't explain, this longing that utterly tormented my soul. I had this deep conviction that avenging my family was the only way I could be whole again, the only way I could ever find solace. I believed that hopefully, just like father foretold, I would get my powers, and when I was ready, I would hunt down every single one of those killers and finally have my revenge. Since I failed to protect my brother, the least I could do was fight for justice, otherwise, their lives meant nothing. However, none of it seemed to make actual sense any more than just words on paper. There wasn't any observable change in my body, except for puberty, of course. I was still my normal self; a little introverted orphan girl with low hopes and a tragic story to tell, and I found it terribly hard to picture myself being anything more than just that.
Miss Penny approached me where I was sitting in the garden.
"Hey, Miss Penny!" I called out to her as she approached. "How's that dinner coming up?" I asked, "I'm so famished I could eat a whole horse, if that's even a thing," I added jokingly with a chuckle.
"Well, there you are, Tom! I've been looking everywhere for you, boy," she replied as she reached the apple tree.
Tom was my false name, it was what the other workers knew me as.
She looked down at me with curious eyes.
"You know, it's quite rare to find a young lad your age so fond of books the way you are," she said. "Most find reading to be such a tiring and tedious hobby, meant specifically for girls."
"Guessing that's not a compliment," I replied, a quizzical expression displayed over my brows.
She ignored me.
"What's the book? Shakespeare?" she continued.
"It's not really that…fancy," I replied, as I immediately closed the book and tucked it under my shirt, "And I dutifully dislike Shakespeare," I added.
She chuckled.
"Very well then, I'll leave you to your not-so-fancy book," she said as she turned to leave.
"Miss Penny," I called out to her, "aren't you forgetting something?" I asked with a curious smile.
"Oh yes! Silly me, I almost forgot why I'm even here," she said. "I was going to tell you, dinner won't be served until six, but, I may or may not have left you a little something in the kitchen to hold yourself until then," she said, the last part sounding almost in a whisper.
"Of course you did," I replied, already beaming with excitement.
"Miss Penny, you are the best! I will never forget you for this, mark my words," I sounded with a degree of solemnity.
She laughed.
"Okay, no need to be so dramatic," she replied, "Better hurry before the others find out."
I got up at once from where I sat and hurried down towards the back entrance of the house which led to the kitchen. Arriving in the kitchen, I was welcomed by the tempting aroma of steaming porridge that had engulfed the entire room. I ignored it, however, and went straight to the pantry to check out where Miss Penny usually hid the food remnants from the kitchen that she had left for me. As I got there, I flipped over the overturned basket in the corner, and underneath it was a large bowl of biscuits, with several bars of chocolate. My jaw immediately dropped open in astonishment as I saw it. I didn't know how to express my excitement, it was much bigger and entirely different from what I was usually given, and I was starting to suspect this one wasn't for me. Anyway, I quickly dug in and stuffed my mouth hungrily with as many biscuits as possible, then I put the rest in some small plastic bags I found and crammed them into both my pockets. As I stepped out of the pantry; my mouth still stuffed with biscuits, I unexpectedly met a man in a black pinstripe suit, advancing from the cellar entrance directly opposite to where I was, with a large bottle of whiskey in hand. I took a close look at him, He was a tall fine gentleman; probably in his mid-thirties, blonde-haired with a stylish quiff and a smartly groomed moustache, exuding a sense of elegance and luxury. I was very much convinced now for a fact, that it was indeed the master himself; Sir Mason Wade, who was standing right there before me. I had totally forgotten about the whole preparation for his return. Suddenly, my whole body, down to the soles of my shoes, went numb with panic, frozen to the very spot on which I stood, as my heart began to pound at a really fast rhythm. I wasn't supposed to be seen in the kitchen, and I sure as hell wasn't supposed to be seen with a mouthful of food from the pantry, even though it was all under Miss Penny's permission, as she herself was just a mere hired servant as I. However, I didn't want to implicate her, as I felt that would be repaying her terribly despite all the kindness she had shown me. I had already concluded within myself that I was just witnessing the very last moments of my stay at the Wade's. I didn't know if he really saw me, but I knew that if he did, I would definitely get laid off, or worse. He had taken out a glass cup from the cabinet and poured some drink for himself. He turned towards me and looked at me, I almost died. My panic doubled hysterically, and my palms got all sweaty and clammy due to the tension I had found myself in.
"I didn't see you there," he sounded in a husky tone.
"Goo…good evening sir," I stuttered, trying hard to conceal my mouth.
"You work here lad?" he asked.
I simply nodded in response.
He started to look at me in a rather curious or somewhat suspicious manner, and I couldn't help but feel more and more uneasy.
"Sorry, do I know you from somewhere?" he asked me, his eyes squinting with curiosity.
"Definitely not," I replied shortly, "I mean… I don't quite come from much, you see," I added, in my most polite tone, forcing a brief smile. I was trying not to show any bit of the panic I was in.
"Hmm…yeah… um, I thought you were someone I knew," he said thoughtfully, though still looking unsatisfied with my answer.
"What's your name?" he asked me.
"My name? Um, yeah, right, my name," I muttered. I suddenly forgot my name totally. I realized I was in so much agitation and panic, that I was momentarily unable to remember my name; not my actual name, though, I mean my alias; the false name I had them call me for close to five months I had been working there. I knew I couldn't tell anyone my real name, and I didn't want it to slip out my mouth due to the pressure.
"Yes?" he inquired, his eyes poised and expectant.
I was trying really hard to remember the name, but it seemed like all records of it had entirely evaporated out of my mind, leaving no apparent trace at all. My frustration was at its peak, I could even feel the sweat forming on my face. It was all starting to get awkward now, even for me, and I was starting to see the questioning and impatience in his eyes, I mean, why not? No normal person wastes that much time when asked a question as simple as; 'What is your name?' except they were hiding something for sure.
"Bruce," I suddenly heard myself say.
"Bruce?!" he sounded with so much astonishment.
I was also very much in shock, myself. Bruce was the name of the master's late father; the very famous Sir Bruce Wade. I was panicking so much that I didn't realize when the word suddenly came out of my mouth, or rather, whence the idea of it even came from, it just sort of happened.
"Yes Sir, my…my name is Bruce," I said, in order not to arouse further suspicion.
"Well, that explains it!" he exclaimed, "I knew there was something interesting about you, lad, my instincts are never wrong."
"You know, you do remind me of someone," he said.
"That must be the famous Sir Bruce Wade, I presume," I said instinctively, in an attempt at self-preservation.
"Yes, yes. My dear father, bless his soul, was something of a legend around here. What he did for this country, and even the world at large, was legendary. He really upheld the Wade's legacy to a very high pinnacle. Sometimes I wonder if I even have what it takes to…live up to his name," he explained. I wasn't even paying attention.
"Are you alright?" he asked me, as if my panicking wasn't obvious enough.
"V…ery much, Sir, I just um, haven't rounded up my tasks yet, and…and it's almost dinner," I said. That was the only excuse I could come up with, and luckily it worked. Master Mason immediately excused me, upon hearing my plea, and just like that, my job was safe to see another day.
On the way home that day, I couldn't stop thinking about what happened. I was so close to losing my job and I narrowly escaped because, luckily, the master got distracted by what he found 'interesting about me,' whatever that was. Truth is, I didn't know what the master found so interesting about me, nor did I care the least, though whatever it was, it had miraculously saved me from what would have been my inevitable dismissal from the Wade's mansion. Although my job was safe and intact, I was still a little worried that when I took longer to pronounce my name, and when he noticed I was in quite a lot of panic, he might have suspected what I was doing in the kitchen, or worse, noticed my feminine attributes and was beginning to question my supposed gender.
After I got back to the church, I still couldn't get the thoughts of my awkward encounter with the master out of my mind. I was in so much worry, I couldn't think of anything else, I was just sunk into the ragged couch, staring a deep hole through the banged old telly box Henry managed to get working. Henry noticed I wasn't myself.
"Hey, aren't you going to go to sleep?" he asked me, "It's past twelve already." He had been closely observing me ever since.
"You go to sleep, Henry, I don't need you to babysit me, you know," I replied.
He got up and switched off the telly.
"Hey! What was that for?!" I protested, "I was watching that show." I sounded a bit upset.
"Aren't you going to tell me what the problem is already?" he asked.
"I already told you, Henry, I'm fine, I'm totally fine," I insisted.
"We both know that's not true," he said.
"Well, maybe it's because I don't want to tell you," I replied.
"Come on, since when did we start keeping things from each other?" he retorted, "I'm only trying to look out for you."
"You see, that's the problem with you," I replied, clearly upset at this point, "you keep treating me like I'm a baby, like…like I'm gonna break or something. It's so annoying," I grumbled.
"You're angry," he sensed worriedly, "Just tell me what it is for God's sake."
"Ugh, you won't leave me alone, would you," I grumbled. For all I knew, he wasn't going to stop.
"Okay, I'll tell you; not like that'll change anything."
"The master asked for my name today," I said.
"You told him your real name?" he asked.
"No I didn't," I replied, "I'm not that stupid, you know. Though it's ironic cause I think it's even much worse than that. I said my name was Bruce."
"Wait, you did what?!" Henry interjected. He had a mixture of shock and puzzlement displayed on his face.
"I was panicking!" I explained, "Honestly, I don't know what came over me. First off, I just sort of forgot my false name all of a sudden, then all because of some stupid panic, among all the names in the world, I couldn't come up with anyone but that of the master's late father, can you believe that?"
"How could I do that to myself, how could I have been that dimwitted to forget my name at such a critical time? I mean, who even does that, who wastes that much time to answer such a simple question?" I scolded myself.
"There's no need to beat yourself up like that, you were in a panic," Henry said, "besides, it's not like you forgot your real name, It could happen to anyone."
"No Henry, not like me. You weren't there, you didn't see the look on his face. He suspected something, Henry, I'm certain he did. I almost put both myself and my job in jeopardy, all because of chocolate bars and a few pieces of biscuits. I should have known someone else was in the kitchen, I should have known the master was back, I should have been more careful, but no, I let my guard down, I got too comfortable than I should have, and I almost paid most woefully".
"I just hope he forgets about me," I prayed, "I really do".
The entire night I was in so much worry that sleep could hardly come to my eyes, and yes, I do know what you might be thinking, and it's true, you're right, my panicking wasn't really that obvious, and I didn't really waste that much time answering when the master asked for my name, and also, given his status, the master definitely wouldn't care at all if I took petty foodstuffs from the kitchen to eat, nor would it even come to his awareness. I guess maybe I was just a little too paranoid back then, or maybe not.