For the second time today, I relayed my visions, this time to my parents. My mum listened attentively, concern growing in her face at every syllable. Once I'd finished, my parents shared a look, as if they knew something, as if this was expected in some way..
"What was that?" I questioned suspicion evident in my tone. My mum's head snapped back to facing me.
"What was what?" she questioned back innocently.
"I saw the look between you and Dad, what's going on?"
My dad let out a sigh, his right hand now on his temple, his brow furrowed.
"Nothing you need to worry about love, tonight is your birthday celebration. Go get ready, it's getting late." My dad rested his right hand on my shoulder and forced a smile. Knowing I wouldn't be able to get anything more than this out of either parent, I nodded and headed in the direction of my home.
You're probably wondering, why on the day before your birthday are you celebrating? Let me explain. It's tradition in my coven on the night before a birthday, at 10 p.m. you start celebrating.
You see, we allow two hours to reflect on ourselves this year, our achievements and our mistakes. We cleanse ourselves of all this to begin anew at midnight, which signals are new day. We then party until the witching hour (so around 3 a.m.) and then do a ritual for the year of luck, prosperity and peace.
I reach the steps of my home and climb them. The familiar scent of lavender drifts up my nose and I am immediately at peace, forgetting everything the day has brought so far in a matter of mere seconds. I make my way towards my bedroom. I push open my door and I am met with the four deep, red walls that bring me the most comfort to be enwrapped within. In the centre of my room is my black queen-size bed. Black satin sheets caress the soft mattress. Red pillows kiss the quilt. Dangling protectively and draping over it is my black lace canopy. The urge to crawl inside the safety of my sheets is suddenly overwhelming. I head over to my oak chest of drawers, ducking under the rosemary drying just behind the doorway, dangling from my ceiling. I grab my brush and sit at my dressing table. This too is black with a large ornate mirror. I sit there and look at myself for a while. My pale complexion seems a shade or two paler than normal, the natural rosiness of my cheeks appear like that of a doll's in comparison to it. My eyes flicker across my round face and over freckled cheeks to my plump, heart-shaped lips. From there I trace up my freckled button nose to reach my almond shaped eyes. I linger a few seconds, staring past the jade green irises and deep into my dark enlarged pupils. I let out a sigh and pick my left hand up, the brush still firmly gripped in it and I gently start brushing my waist length ebony hair.
After eradicating any tangle in my hair I could find, and I gently braided my hair, a waterfall braid all the way around the circumference of my head, like a crown. I picked up the baby's-breath and weaved it into the braid. I stood up and headed over to my dress on the wardrobe door. Oh the dress. By far my favourite dress I've ever owned, special for tonight celebrations. The bodice was made with an intricate white lace design and a full fabric skirt flared out just below it. The sleeves hang low enough to gently caress the floor. The dress perfectly hugs every curve on my hourglass figure. I'm not exactly thin but a happy medium. I delicately slipped the dress off the hanger and slid it over my body as carefully as I could as if I was persuaded it would disintegrate at the slightest touch. I zipped up the side and turned to the left to look at myself in the full length mirror. I struggled to recognise myself for a second. I've never owned anything so delicate, so intricate, so royal like. I don't often dress to reflect my rank, but like I said, special occasion. I certainly looked like a princess and I felt like one too. There was something about wearing something so beautiful that made you feel like an angel. I half expected wings to sprout in between my shoulder blades. But that's enough vanity for now.
I head over to the hooks on the back of my door and take down my cream, velvet, hooded cloak. I drape it around my shoulders, the silk lining soft on my skin where the lace is cut to its pattern. I fasten the cream ribbon in a bow around my neck. I am ready.