Nigel was a witch being attacked by witch hunters.
Nigel Granhelm was from a slanted home. A home that was tipping over on itself. It would crack and buckle every night as he slept. He hardly ever got any sleep. It would tilt and he would rock back and forth in his old mattress. Nigel was English born. But ran a small business in America. A business selling magic. Magic that he learned from his elderly Grandmother.
His Grandma was over two hundred years old. She never passed away. And was so scary looking that not a soul could view her face! She mostly would help about the store. She would run till. And had her familiar, a cat named Jack join her. Jack is a selfish brat that digs his nails into your leg, to climb into your lap. He would greet customers. And then curl up in the corner.
Nigel was not a very soft child. He was very intense. He never talked to many other children. He would never look people in the eyes. And He was quite angry. Growing up poor is never good. But something inside of Nigel suddenly broke one day. And his life would never be the same. It’s called the sweater incident.
You see, Nigel was very poor. One rainy day. His grandmother gave him a present. It was a cotton sweater that she stitched by hand. She worked her fingers to the bone making it for him. It was blue with black stripes. One he wore so much that the kids at school mocked him for it.
It started in the school gym locker room. When the other boys were getting ready for gym. He got in big trouble because he refused to take off his sweater. Alas he was just a child then. But it really did make him mad. It was the start of a fight. As the other boys humiliated him. He went home crying with a black eye.
Back at home the house rocked while he slept. His grandmother placed a warm rag over his eye. She sang him a song, “Oh my little boy, so tender and sweet.” She hummed it in her accent. “My sweet little boy.” She put her hand over his little black eye. And covered it with kisses. As she whispers “This just means you’re getting strong. You’re going to need to be big and strong.” She placed one final kiss on his forehead and quietly left
One night he swayed soft and sweet in his bed. But he quickly jumped from it. When he heard something marching outside. It was angry witch hunters. And they were there for them. Nigel did not understand. He cried as the burned down their shop. He grabbed a blanket from his bed. Slowly wrapped it around himself. And snuck inside his closet. He did not know where his grandmother or Jack could be. Suddenly he heard marching up his staircase.
He grabbed a hard object. A baseball bat was all he could find. He slowly slid under his bed and waited five minutes before the foot steps grew louder. He held on to the bat so tight that he broke his right hand. But he was not going to die. No not this night. He was going to live. He was going to beat him to death And take another’s man’s life.
Suddenly he felt someone grab his back. This shocked him. How could they have found him? But suddenly he heard singing. “Oh my little boy, so tender and sweet.” She hummed it in her accent. “My sweet little boy.” His grandma scared them off with her face and the gun she keeps beside her bed. And they had gone from shock to morning for their sweet little magic store. They made a collective decision to rebuild them and their shop.
His grandmother had Jack and everything became ok again. When they cleaned up the ash and what remained from the fire. Instead of moving they just rebuilt. But unfortunately. He could not live with his grandmother forever. And she started to look for apartments for him. Trust me when I say it was time to move on from the witch attack.
They caught the witch hunters. They were the kids that bullied him from the locker room. They noticed his pagan eyes and attacked the nerd that never took his sweater off. They tried to take away all the magic from his life and used to beat the heck out of him in High School. But nothing could break his spirit.
.
Nigel Granhelm was from a slanted home. A home that was tipping over on itself. It would crack and buckle every night as he slept. He hardly ever got any sleep. It would tilt and he would rock back and forth in his old mattress. Nigel was English born. But ran a small business in America. A business selling magic. Magic that he learned from his elderly Grandmother.
His Grandma was over two hundred years old. She never passed away. And was so scary looking that not a soul could view her face! She mostly would help about the store. She would run till. And had her familiar, a cat named Jack join her. Jack is a selfish brat that digs his nails into your leg, to climb into your lap. He would greet customers. And then curl up in the corner.
Nigel was not a very soft child. He was very intense. He never talked to many other children. He would never look people in the eyes. And He was quite angry. Growing up poor is never good. But something inside of Nigel suddenly broke one day. And his life would never be the same. It’s called the sweater incident.
You see, Nigel was very poor. One rainy day. His grandmother gave him a present. It was a cotton sweater that she stitched by hand. She worked her fingers to the bone making it for him. It was blue with black stripes. One he wore so much that the kids at school mocked him for it.
It started in the school gym locker room. When the other boys were getting ready for gym. He got in big trouble because he refused to take off his sweater. Alas he was just a child then. But it really did make him mad. It was the start of a fight. As the other boys humiliated him. He went home crying with a black eye.
Back at home the house rocked while he slept. His grandmother placed a warm rag over his eye. She sang him a song, “Oh my little boy, so tender and sweet.” She hummed it in her accent. “My sweet little boy.” She put her hand over his little black eye. And covered it with kisses. As she whispers “This just means you’re getting strong. You’re going to need to be big and strong.” She placed one final kiss on his forehead and quietly left
One night he swayed soft and sweet in his bed. But he quickly jumped from it. When he heard something marching outside. It was angry witch hunters. And they were there for them. Nigel did not understand. He cried as the burned down their shop. He grabbed a blanket from his bed. Slowly wrapped it around himself. And snuck inside his closet. He did not know where his grandmother or Jack could be. Suddenly he heard marching up his staircase.
He grabbed a hard object. A baseball bat was all he could find. He slowly slid under his bed and waited five minutes before the foot steps grew louder. He held on to the bat so tight that he broke his right hand. But he was not going to die. No not this night. He was going to live. He was going to beat him to death And take another’s man’s life.
Suddenly he felt someone grab his back. This shocked him. How could they have found him? But suddenly he heard singing. “Oh my little boy, so tender and sweet.” She hummed it in her accent. “My sweet little boy.” His grandma scared them off with her face and the gun she keeps beside her bed. And they had gone from shock to morning for their sweet little magic store. They made a collective decision to rebuild them and their shop.
His grandmother had Jack and everything became ok again. When they cleaned up the ash and what remained from the fire. Instead of moving they just rebuilt. But unfortunately. He could not live with his grandmother forever. And she started to look for apartments for him. Trust me when I say it was time to move on from the witch attack.
They caught the witch hunters. They were the kids that bullied him from the locker room. They noticed his pagan eyes and attacked the nerd that never took his sweater off. They tried to take away all the magic from his life and used to beat the heck out of him in High School. But nothing could break his spirit.
.
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