Tales of the Arcane Child

[Hinera]

Magic, the arcane, and witchcraft that permeated the very core of my blood stream would be uncontrollable at times. Unrefined to my child senses.

As nappy-headed children my brother and I would make our own fun with our toys that we rarely got. Tearing them up and rebuilding them for fun, something we watched our father do while at home. Repair the small wooden hut in different areas, tear something down, then build it back better than ever.

This one toy that was my favorite as a child, a little doll. My father bought it for me from in town this one time on a run there. It had curly red wool for hair, painted with black skin like me, and a beautifully carved face as it was made of wood. I named her Veve. And she was my bestest friend that I would talk to all the time, my brother would make fun of me for talking to this thing that was inanimate. All the while also being scared of the small doll, saying that its eyes would follow him when it was sitting in a chair.

Unbeknownst to myself, my innate witchcraft abilities were manifesting and my own verbal communication was slowly making this doll come to life.

One evening as I was playing with my doll, I vividly recall Veve telling me she wanted to be just like me. Saying that she loved me. And saying that I was beautiful, my hair was so beautiful. I at an early age finally felt some ounce of affirmation. That Witch up to that point always called me a sin, an ugly stain, a beast of burden. While this small doll was telling me I was beautiful, and it was beautiful in itself… until it happened.

A strand of my unkempt hair swung low, just low enough for the doll to form a mouth, teeth, a tongue and animate as it chomped on the curl. Chewing voraciously up and up toward my scalp. As I screamed for someone to help, my brother came to my aid ripping the doll off along with the now bitten off strands of hair leaving a crudely cut patch inches away from my scalp.

The Witch came crawling in slowly at the sound, laughing maniacally at the sight of me holding my sore head while my brother threw the doll out the door and into the swamp.

The Witch began telling me how my magic, its drawn to the dark, its drawn to the corrupt and because of it demons gain a catalyst through things children with magical abilities touch as they don't know any better on how to control their powers, and thus they possess such an object until they gain enough power from that child to enact their desire to take over the household.

From then on I was more cautious on what I touched, and was determined with aid or not to harness the power within. -{S}