Enchanted Revenge Read Free

revenge. I wanted to make them pay for what they did to the best people in the entire world. To make them hurt. To make them scream as I screamed.
    I scrambled over to my father to grab that sword, but it was too heavy for me to lift up, even with both hands. So I just dropped it. It landed back in his blood, with a wet thump, splashing his blood further across the floor.
    I stood, fisting my hands in front of me like a boxer. I had no training on how to fight, but I figured I could cause some kind of damage.
    The sound continued to come closer.
    The whole room started to heat, despite the broken windows and the frozen wind outside that was still blowing in. I filled with a raging fire that demanded to be released. I wanted to kill whoever walked into the room. I wanted to gouge his eyes out. I would scrape the skin from his face with my nails. I’d make him bleed as he did to my parents.
    I would do whatever I could…even if it wasn’t much.
    I’d never wanted to hurt anyone before despite being teased my whole life. I’d been sad before, and always ran away from confrontation. But not now. I wanted to fight. I wanted to make the person who could do something so disgusting and cruel, that monster , to hurt. I wanted to make him scream and cry.
    But what came around the corner was not a man at all. It was a head. My mother’s head.
    Her head !
    Her hair tangled atop her head as it rolled closer to me. Her nose crushed against the floor, before rising back up.
    Down.
    Up.
    I stepped back, away from it as it rolled over to my mother’s body. The temperature increased even more. I still had my sweater on, and my jacket, though my hat had fallen off beside my father. Sweat beaded on my forehead.
    Her head started reattaching to her body. I could see the veins reattaching from her neck to the base of her head. I could see the skin repairing itself, stitching together like a doctor would stitch a wound.
    The heat increased again.
    The blood around her went back into her body. The hole in her stomach began to close. The smaller holes around the large one were already gone. Healed.
    I watched my father next. His arm was straightened again. Normal. Fixed. The blood that had dripped down from his eyes and nose defied gravity and physics as it went back into his body.
    My mom’s broken arms and legs were beginning to straighten, to be the way they were supposed to be. As if walking in on my parents dismembered, broken, dead bodies wasn’t enough. I then had to watch them stitch back together.
    I stood there, nearly lifeless.
    Then their clothes changed.
    That mist that was present before came back. It swirled around the room, now visible to me in the waning sunlight. Like a million microscopic water droplets swirling around my parents bodies. It glowed and throbbed, as if it had a heartbeat.
    The heat increased even more than before. Now hotter than even the warmest day in the middle of the summer. As the mist circled them, their clothes continued to change. Shifting from her jeans and t-shirt, she now wore a plain white, cotton gown with a red sash around her waist.
    My breath whooshed out. I hadn’t even known I had been holding my breath until then.
    I looked over at my father, who was now dressed in white also. White pants, a loose white shirt and a lavender vest.
    I stepped back.
    At the same time, their arms folded above their chests, clasping together atop their stomachs. In my father’s hands was his sword, the one I was too weak to even lift completely off the ground. And my mother’s hands held a leather bound book.
    I stood there, gaping at them both with my mouth hanging open. What the hell was I supposed to do now? How could I call the cops now? How could I explain that they were dead, even though they didn’t look dead anymore.
    They didn’t look dead anymore…
    The thought kept reverberating through my mind, pinging off one side of my brain to the other.
    I ran to my dad, knelt next to him, and caressed his