His eyes suddenly turned white, he started gasping for air. He started shaking, he was extremely cold and I didn’t know what to do. We were alone, his mother was at work, it was 3 am or rather witch hour and I could hear someone calling out his name outside. I peeped through the window and there she was. She was calling out his name, spitting on a container on fire whilst doing so.

I shed a tear and I went back to look at him. He was still gasping for air, his eyes still white. He was still shaking and getting colder by the minute. I started praying and her screams were getting louder so I prayed even harder. He stopped shaking, his eyes went back to normal but he was still cold and still struggling to breathe but then it all stopped. He was gone, he was no more. His little life was taken away from him by that old woman.

On the day of the funeral at the time of his death, I peeped through the window and again there she was, laughing hysterically whilst pointing at my house. She was happy, joyful that she had done well.

I don’t why she killed him but I do know how. From that day onwards I became a witch, I started practicing witchcraft for revenge. I started slowly by killing her dogs, then her oldest daughter. She would be burying her oldest daughter this weekend, her youngest the next then finally her death. I never liked witchcraft. I never wanted to be a witch but today I am a witch because of her!

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