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Ana’s Ring

Writer's picture: FreelanceItja ServicesFreelanceItja Services

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.


Steady but urgent steps seemed to be getting closer. His breathing became shallow as he willed himself invisible.


“Magic isn’t real, Johnathon,” the owner of the footsteps announced as she came to a halt in full view of the teen’s hiding place.


“Give it to me,” she demanded. The boy held the gold plated ring firmer in his calloused hand like his life depended on it. He would never let it go. It belonged to his family, not this homewrecker.


The woman sighed in exasperation. “No more games, Johnny. Give me the ring!” she demanded once more. Amongst his fear of the inevitable, he found his voice.


“No,” he whispered timidly.


“What did you say?” she questioned maliciously.


“No,” he said again, this time a bit more firmly.


She laughed.


“I have no time for this,” she said to him as she crouched to his level on the floor and made an attempt to break the ring from his grasp. His nails dug into his skin as he clutched harder onto the ring.


Frustration and anger overcame his fear and immediately, he stood tall but barely than the woman that was his soon-to-be stepmother. Johnathon merely used his strength to push her back, an action by which she was appalled. Her 6-inch stiletto heels snapped under the sudden movement of her body which supported a pair of the largest watermelons he has ever laid eyes on.


This was it. He had done it. She finally had collateral to hold against him.


Since she stepped foot into their heaven-like chateau nine months ago, it had been hell for him. From the moment that his father decided to introduce them, he had seen a wickedness in her eyes that he had never seen before. Unfortunately, his father must be blind because he was completely smitten with the oversized plastic Barbie doll that was Meluna Furieux.

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