A/N: I'm back...run for cover. I decided I might as well post this. I was
gonna wait until I finished the story, but what's the point if you guys
didnt like the first bit? So I can promise you that I'm gonna take a while
to update. I usually have a whack of homework every night, plus work, and I
start babysitting soon. I will, however, update as quick as possible. It
won't be months in between. So, here is my new fic. Enjoy!
"Officially never helping you babysit again," Kyrie sighed, sitting stiffly beside me. We had flopped down on the porch swing, behind my house, after returning from a 42 hour babysitting job.
"I didn't say you had to come," I mumbled groaning, trying to move any part of my body. We had just returned from my aunt's house, after watching her four kids.
"If I hadn't have come, you wouldn't be alive." I snorted. "Your cousins, are demon children, Moira, seriously. Is it wrong to think that?"
I chuckled, "is it wrong to agree with you?"
"Probably, but I'm just to sore and tired to care." Four, four year old kids, forty two hours, and five hours of sleep. Add that to chasing them, carrying them, struggling with them, and a bunch of games later you get a tired Moira Niall, and a near dead Kyrie Campbell.
"Agreed. I'm going to sleep for two days." I yawned. There was a whole five hours of sleep...that would be how long the kids slept. Combined.
"Well, aren't you glad that last down pour flooded the school?" Kyrie said slyly.
"I am indeed." I let an evil grin cross my face, "God bless the rain!" I yelled loudly, making Kyrie flinch.
"Shhh. I feel like I have a hang-over" She covered her ears slightly and looked at me through her shaggy blonde bangs. "... again." she added. Dad and I had rescued her from a party a few weeks back. She had gotten a tad bit past tipsy, and felt it the day after.
A car wheeled down the back alley, stopping in front of the gate. It honked twice at Kyrie, then sat. "I'm going to kill that brother of mine one day you know." She growled, carefully getting off the swing, and grabbing her bag. "Bye."
I waved my hand, not saying anything as she climbing into her brother's beat up car. I stayed outside, until it started raining again, then decided to go say hi to dad.
"Dad?" I walked in through the back screen door, to find dad just finishing up his circle, with his coven members. I rolled my eyes, and made my way to the kitchen to eat something.
The microwave beeped as Jena, dad's 'friend' walked in. I brushed past her, not saying anything, and sat down at the kitchen table. I knew she hated when I did that.
"Hello Moira," she said cheerfully, sweeping her copper hair off her shoulders briefly. I looked up from my bowl of soup, nodded curtly, and returned to my oh-so-interesting bowl. "Hunter told me you were over in Tatcon babysitting your cousins. How'd that go?" She opened the fridge and took an apple out.
"Fine." I said simply. Why she even tried to talk to me, I will never know. I don't like her. Firstly, she is much to peppy for dad. From what I have gathered about my mom, rest her soul, she was calm, and collected. Most of the time. Second, she is old enough to be my sister. Dad's thirty seven, Jena is twenty five. It's just wrong. Thirdly, she doesn't even like me. She just pretends and puts up with me.
"Did you have fun?" She asked, straightening out her short skirt. There's another thing...she dresses like a tramp. If she were to sit, you would clearly be able to see up her skirt.
"Sure." I replied, hoping I would get on her nerves, and she would leave me alone. With my luck, that would be a no.
"So.." she trailed, trying to think of something to say, "how's school?"
"Flooded." I snapped. "If you don't mind, I'm tired, hungry, and not exactly is the best of moods."
"That's alright. It's expected when you've been watching little kids, I mean..." She is such a ditz.
"Jena. Leave. Me. Alone!" I yelled. Her blue eyes widened like saucers. "Could I have put it in any plainer words for your little brain to comprehend?" She stood in her spot, looking stunned.
"Moira," she said coming away from her daze, "I think you're dad would like it if we got along. I know I would."
"Yea, well, I'd like a lot of things that will never happen. Deal with it."
"Fine." Jena said simply. "But I'm sure your dad might have something to say about that." I snorted, almost spitting out the soup in my mouth.
"My dad might have something to say about what? About me wanting my mother to be alive!? You might like to know Jena, Morgan Niall is the only girl, best friend, wife, for my father. If you really believe in all that muirn beatha dans crap, then you will leave my father alone!" "Moira Fiona Grace!"I bit my tongue and closed my eyes. Dad had heard me. I sighed, and dropped my bowl onto the table. I opened my eyes, staring at dad. "You will not talk to Jena like that!"
Mary K, my aunt, once told me that Mom had a nasty temper when she was undoubtably mad. I guess I had inherited that. "You think she doesn't talk to me like that when your not around!" Dad gave me a look in which clearly said I don't believe you. "Do you know how pathetic it is when you believe your girlfriend over your daughter, dad? Your own flesh and blood?" I stood up, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Go to your room." He said angrily. I didn't move. "Moira get your ass upstairs, now!" He meant business. Dad rarely ever swore.
"Pathetic." I muttered, as dad tried to comfort a now crying Jena. I shook my head, and walked upstairs to my room.
Sitting down at my desk, I fished out a piece of blank paper and a pencil, and began to draw. The rain outside was smashing into my windows with no regrets. It seemed to be just as pissed off as I was. Not only pissed, but now I felt sick. Dad and me never fought. When we did, it was usually about Jena. I hated Jena, and I wasn't afraid to admit that to him. Every time we got into that argument, he would tell me that he really liked her, and I needed to deal with it.
I looked down at what my hand and mind had drew. I never really knew what I was drawing. I just put a pencil in my hand and doodled. My eyes widened. I hadn't actually drawn anything, but scribbled to simple words across my paper, over and over again. 'Help Me,' it read. I dropped my pencil, angrier than before. Now, not only had I fought with dad, not eaten much, I couldn't even doodle. Stupid...witch.
"Help me, mom." I whispered gently to the picture of her, which was propped up on my night stand. Mom was a witch. She had been one before it happened. "Why did you have to leave me." I had grown up, virtually motherless. There were mother figures along the way of course. Mary K, mom's sister, Bree, mom's old best friend, Sky, dad's cousin. They were all there when I needed them, but what I really needed was my mother back. It could never happen.
I stayed in my room, until I was positive that all of dad's...until dad's get together was gone. It was in my blood, the magick. How could it not be when my dad was a full blown witch, and my mom was a legendary one? I shamefully admit, that I too used to practice it with my dad, and his..people. That was until the day I asked what had happened to my mom. I was eight, when I flat out asked dad how she died, and he was forced to tell me. After that day, my magick was locked up inside, and I promised myself to never use it again after what it had done to my mother. Magick had killed my mother. Magick couldn't bring her back. What was the point of it then?
Please Review!!!
"Officially never helping you babysit again," Kyrie sighed, sitting stiffly beside me. We had flopped down on the porch swing, behind my house, after returning from a 42 hour babysitting job.
"I didn't say you had to come," I mumbled groaning, trying to move any part of my body. We had just returned from my aunt's house, after watching her four kids.
"If I hadn't have come, you wouldn't be alive." I snorted. "Your cousins, are demon children, Moira, seriously. Is it wrong to think that?"
I chuckled, "is it wrong to agree with you?"
"Probably, but I'm just to sore and tired to care." Four, four year old kids, forty two hours, and five hours of sleep. Add that to chasing them, carrying them, struggling with them, and a bunch of games later you get a tired Moira Niall, and a near dead Kyrie Campbell.
"Agreed. I'm going to sleep for two days." I yawned. There was a whole five hours of sleep...that would be how long the kids slept. Combined.
"Well, aren't you glad that last down pour flooded the school?" Kyrie said slyly.
"I am indeed." I let an evil grin cross my face, "God bless the rain!" I yelled loudly, making Kyrie flinch.
"Shhh. I feel like I have a hang-over" She covered her ears slightly and looked at me through her shaggy blonde bangs. "... again." she added. Dad and I had rescued her from a party a few weeks back. She had gotten a tad bit past tipsy, and felt it the day after.
A car wheeled down the back alley, stopping in front of the gate. It honked twice at Kyrie, then sat. "I'm going to kill that brother of mine one day you know." She growled, carefully getting off the swing, and grabbing her bag. "Bye."
I waved my hand, not saying anything as she climbing into her brother's beat up car. I stayed outside, until it started raining again, then decided to go say hi to dad.
"Dad?" I walked in through the back screen door, to find dad just finishing up his circle, with his coven members. I rolled my eyes, and made my way to the kitchen to eat something.
The microwave beeped as Jena, dad's 'friend' walked in. I brushed past her, not saying anything, and sat down at the kitchen table. I knew she hated when I did that.
"Hello Moira," she said cheerfully, sweeping her copper hair off her shoulders briefly. I looked up from my bowl of soup, nodded curtly, and returned to my oh-so-interesting bowl. "Hunter told me you were over in Tatcon babysitting your cousins. How'd that go?" She opened the fridge and took an apple out.
"Fine." I said simply. Why she even tried to talk to me, I will never know. I don't like her. Firstly, she is much to peppy for dad. From what I have gathered about my mom, rest her soul, she was calm, and collected. Most of the time. Second, she is old enough to be my sister. Dad's thirty seven, Jena is twenty five. It's just wrong. Thirdly, she doesn't even like me. She just pretends and puts up with me.
"Did you have fun?" She asked, straightening out her short skirt. There's another thing...she dresses like a tramp. If she were to sit, you would clearly be able to see up her skirt.
"Sure." I replied, hoping I would get on her nerves, and she would leave me alone. With my luck, that would be a no.
"So.." she trailed, trying to think of something to say, "how's school?"
"Flooded." I snapped. "If you don't mind, I'm tired, hungry, and not exactly is the best of moods."
"That's alright. It's expected when you've been watching little kids, I mean..." She is such a ditz.
"Jena. Leave. Me. Alone!" I yelled. Her blue eyes widened like saucers. "Could I have put it in any plainer words for your little brain to comprehend?" She stood in her spot, looking stunned.
"Moira," she said coming away from her daze, "I think you're dad would like it if we got along. I know I would."
"Yea, well, I'd like a lot of things that will never happen. Deal with it."
"Fine." Jena said simply. "But I'm sure your dad might have something to say about that." I snorted, almost spitting out the soup in my mouth.
"My dad might have something to say about what? About me wanting my mother to be alive!? You might like to know Jena, Morgan Niall is the only girl, best friend, wife, for my father. If you really believe in all that muirn beatha dans crap, then you will leave my father alone!" "Moira Fiona Grace!"I bit my tongue and closed my eyes. Dad had heard me. I sighed, and dropped my bowl onto the table. I opened my eyes, staring at dad. "You will not talk to Jena like that!"
Mary K, my aunt, once told me that Mom had a nasty temper when she was undoubtably mad. I guess I had inherited that. "You think she doesn't talk to me like that when your not around!" Dad gave me a look in which clearly said I don't believe you. "Do you know how pathetic it is when you believe your girlfriend over your daughter, dad? Your own flesh and blood?" I stood up, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Go to your room." He said angrily. I didn't move. "Moira get your ass upstairs, now!" He meant business. Dad rarely ever swore.
"Pathetic." I muttered, as dad tried to comfort a now crying Jena. I shook my head, and walked upstairs to my room.
Sitting down at my desk, I fished out a piece of blank paper and a pencil, and began to draw. The rain outside was smashing into my windows with no regrets. It seemed to be just as pissed off as I was. Not only pissed, but now I felt sick. Dad and me never fought. When we did, it was usually about Jena. I hated Jena, and I wasn't afraid to admit that to him. Every time we got into that argument, he would tell me that he really liked her, and I needed to deal with it.
I looked down at what my hand and mind had drew. I never really knew what I was drawing. I just put a pencil in my hand and doodled. My eyes widened. I hadn't actually drawn anything, but scribbled to simple words across my paper, over and over again. 'Help Me,' it read. I dropped my pencil, angrier than before. Now, not only had I fought with dad, not eaten much, I couldn't even doodle. Stupid...witch.
"Help me, mom." I whispered gently to the picture of her, which was propped up on my night stand. Mom was a witch. She had been one before it happened. "Why did you have to leave me." I had grown up, virtually motherless. There were mother figures along the way of course. Mary K, mom's sister, Bree, mom's old best friend, Sky, dad's cousin. They were all there when I needed them, but what I really needed was my mother back. It could never happen.
I stayed in my room, until I was positive that all of dad's...until dad's get together was gone. It was in my blood, the magick. How could it not be when my dad was a full blown witch, and my mom was a legendary one? I shamefully admit, that I too used to practice it with my dad, and his..people. That was until the day I asked what had happened to my mom. I was eight, when I flat out asked dad how she died, and he was forced to tell me. After that day, my magick was locked up inside, and I promised myself to never use it again after what it had done to my mother. Magick had killed my mother. Magick couldn't bring her back. What was the point of it then?
Please Review!!!