Phantom Light: The Witch Academy of Ash

By R.L. Wilson

Being a witch is a blessing. Learning how to use my gifts will take a miracle.

My life is a train wreck. Between running from truant officers, stealing food to survive, and the stress of being one of the have-nots, it's a miracle I've made it this far.

When an opportunity to attend an elite academy presents itself, I know it's a long shot, but so is surviving these streets alone. No one is more surprised than me when I'm accepted. Now, all I have to do is stay out of trouble, but within days, that proves more difficult than I expected.

My roommate hates me. I piss off the headmaster. And worst of all, my best friend is found dead. That changes everything.

Something dark and dangerous lurks on campus grounds. I can feel it to my core. Now, all that matters is I find the killer and try not to fall for three hot mages. They're a distraction I don't need.

Welcome to my freshman year at the Witch Academy of Ash, where love, murder, and magic are unexpected parts of the curriculum!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Exquisite Novelty Publishing LLC
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201182311

R.L. Wilson

From early life R.L. started writing short stories. Raised on Star Trek, E. T. and Ghost Busters, she found herself infatuated with imagination. Her writing is influenced by many, with J. K. Rowling being the most influential. When she is not writing or plotting her next book, she spends time with her husband, three children and two cats.

Book preview

Prologue

My eyes snap open to drops of cool water hitting my face. I glance up to the ceiling and notice the small hole now dripping rain down my cheeks. Two, three, four drips, I count. Then a boom of lightning strikes across the morning skies. The only thing dancing through my brain is how to get food today. The leaking roof is another reminder of my un-habitable living conditions.

I haven’t seen my mother in a week or more. She frequently goes out on her drug binges. She comes home when she can’t find another way to get her drugs. Meanwhile, I’m running from truant officers and stealing to feed myself. Not that I can’t; I’m sixteen now. It was much harder when I was seven.

I riffle through my garbage bag filled with my clothing. Besides the small television and a mattress on the floor, the apartment is empty. I’d been an orphan since six in a way. Mother comes and goes as she pleases. But this apartment is the worst; it’s practically an abandoned building. No other tenants except me and mother. But we don’t pay any rent. I have to run an extension cord from the hallway to have electricity. Mother hasn’t paid the bill in months. I flick a glance over at the overflowing pile of termination notices. I hold back the unshed tears that pain the back of my eyeballs.

---

Cradling the one picture I have left of grandma brings solace to my soul. When she was alive, at least I ate and had a fresh set of clothing. Now I’m stuck washing clothes in the sink by hand.

My I-phone buzzes, breaking the silence. I grab my phone from the bed. An email notification appears on my phone screen. I wonder if it’s from my mother. That’s me dreaming; she’d never send me an email. The headline says Academy. I try to calm the adrenaline that pulses through me as I wait for the email to load.

Congratulations! We have accepted you into Witch Academy of Ash, the email reads. Suddenly, rapid flutters invade my chest as my eyes bulge. I read the email again. This is surreal. I can’t believe it. I got into the Witch Academy. This means three meals and a warm place to stay. I let out a strong squeal, screaming out of happiness.

I stand to my feet as the floor beneath me creaks. The growl of my stomach means that I require food. Even the ecstatic joy I feel doesn’t drown out the hunger in my abdomen. I ate nothing last night. As I shuffle to the bathroom, still wiping the mucus from my eye, I hear the front door knob turn. I pause and cover my yawn. She finally came home. I turn around to momma’s face, a sheer horror gracing it. Hurry up! We have to go! They’re coming! she screams.

What? Who? I question, trembling at the sight of her face.

The guys, she says as she swiftly bolts the lock and chain on the door. The sudden surge of several footsteps pounding their way up the hall makes anxiety skitter down my back.

Shit! she yells, hazel brown eyes flittering. She races toward the bedroom. We have to go! she screams. I follow behind her, thinking about what I could grab to defend myself. At this point, we won’t make it out of the house.

Bam, bam, bam. Someone knocks on the door, followed by Open up, Sandy. We know you are in there.

Mother’s hand trembles while a stream of tears runs down her cheeks. What did you do? I whisper as we sit on the closet floor. Mother has gotten into plenty of trouble before, but no one has ever chased her. I realize this must be serious.

Maybe I can talk to them, I tell Mother as I rise to my feet.

No, she warns, grabbing my arm and pulls me back down to a sitting position on the floor. The banging on the door intensifies. The men are becoming impatient. I’m sure they are upset because they know mom is in here. They had to see her run in.

I fucked up, Mother says.

Grandma always said mother was a quiet witch with a mean streak. She was a good witch until she started using black magic. It robbed her of her personality and all her time, leaving me as an orphan, basically.

We’re going to move to Cleveland to live with Uncle Ron.

No, Mother, I whisper. I got into the Witch Academy of Ash.

What, so you are leaving me?

You’ve already left me.

Bang! A thunderous crash slices through the air. It’s the sound of whoever or whatever is chasing mother. They just forced their way into our house.

Come out, Sandy. We need to talk, a husky voice says.

Mother’s muffled screams are intensifying. We have to talk to these men. I’m sure mother didn’t kill their firstborn. They will give her a chance. The warmth of mother’s breath burns the back of my neck. She looks over my shoulder as I peep out of the closet door. The boards on the floor creak. I see three of them have entered the bedroom.

There’s nothing here besides a mattress.

She has to be in here, someone else says.

Beads of sweat run down my back. I hold my breath. Any second, they will kick in this door. From their dangerous appearance, we’re dead.

A swift pull of the door exposes the light. The faces of three dudes stare at mother and I.

The bulky dude with a gun at his side stares down at me. She has a child in here, he warns.

Come out. We just want to talk.

My gut says they want more than to talk, but I’m sure they won’t kill me.

I stand up with mother gripping my hand tightly. We both walk out of the closet, shaking, the fear of death nipping at our heels.

As we shuffle out of the closet, another guy with blue eyes emerges from the living room.

---

Sandy, we just want our money. Mother doesn’t say a word. She buries her face in on my shoulder. I don’t know why I was expecting her to protect me. She’s never been my protector. I’ve always stolen to feed her and myself.

How much does she owe? I question.

Three hundred dollars,