Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
3 | THE WEIRD, THE WITCHY, THE ONLY ONE
THATCHER CALLOWAY HAD DOWNED three black coffee's so far as he sat in the corner booth of Dr. Cerberus's diner. His mind was running a million seconds an hour as he nervously tapped the diner table, creating an irritating noise to anyone else who dared come out this late at night.
His breathing was shallow as he replayed the story his grandfather had explained to him about his parents, about the Church of Night, about worshipping Satan, if he was even real after all.
"Son, are you okay?" the ower, Cerberus asked, bringing around the coffee maker. "Maybe you shouldn't have anything else, and you should head home. It's getting late, the streets can be a bit dangerous late at night,"
"Another," Thatcher replied quickly. "Please, another. I—I just need some time to think, please,"
Dr. Cerberus quietly nodded, refilling the ceramic mug sitting carefully in the teen's hands. Thatcher mumbled a quick 'thank you' before taking a big swing.
"Thatcher?" a familiar voice echoed. "Is everything okay?"
Thatcher's head snapped and he saw the familiar blonde hair of Sabrina Spellman. Thatcher took another swing of coffee and nodded towards Sabrina to take a seat across from him in the booth.
"No, everything is definitely not okay," Thatcher replied sadly. "Everything is a mess, and my whole life is a lie. Shocker right?" he chuckled sadly.
"W–What do you mean? What happened?" Sabrina asked.
"Someone showed up at my house, dressed in all black, slicked back hair. Said he was Faustus Blackwood, a Dean for some Academy of Unseen Arts," Thatcher explained. "It doesn't even matter who I tell because no one is going to believe me. He said I was a warlock, and I was half mortal. They had been looking for me for 16 years,"
"Apparently my mom was some Preist's daughter who ran away with my mortal father causing a complete uproar," Thatcher continued waving his hands in the air, frustrated with himself. "My grandfather told me everything, and — and know I don't know what to think —I was baptized for God'sake! I went to Church when I was little, and now I am supposed to throw all of that away for some Satan that probably isn't real, and sign my name in some book to 'declare my allegiance'," he muttered, shaking his head. "It is all too much,"
"I'm sorry this all sounds like I should be locked up in some asylum," Thatcher chuckled looking over at Sabrina. "I understand if you never want to see me ever again,"
Sabrina giggled at his last comment and leaned forward.
"I don't think you are crazy at all," she replied. "I think you are just as sane as the rest of us,"
"What, so you don't want to burn me at a stake? That is relieving," Thatcher smiled.
"And I know exactly what you are going through," Sabrina added. "I am supposed to sign the Book of the Beast on my 16th birthday, which just happens to be on Halloween. My parents were Edward and Diane Spellman, and my dad was a witch, while my mother was a mortal, and they fell in love and had me. They were killed a few months after I was born — so I live with my Aunt Hilda and Aunt Zelda, along with my cousin — Ambrose," she explained. "I know exactly what you are going through,"
