The Nonbeliever
Paul - The witch’s lair
The walls with handmade hanging carpets seem to close in on me. It’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. Witches, magic, it's all bullshit. Now, do I have to believe in curses and reincarnation too?
“What’s your proof?” I can’t smother the disgusted smirk on my face. “Am I to believe that you see magical strings tied to our souls? Sheeesh! Where have you hidden the rest of the circus?”
The gypsy witch laughs, her eyes glinting in amusement. She stares at me with the same good-tempered gaze she has since I stepped into her house.
“Do you want me to be nice or honest?”
I huff, folding my arms over my chest. “You can continue being nice since I don’t believe in your honesty anyway.”