Alison Tyrone was a witch. 

She wasn't always, but she became one when she was 12. She always took an interest in witchcraft and stuff, so her mom, (also a witch,) got her a spell book and cauldron for her birthday. 

There always seemed to be a prejudice against witches, thanks to fairytales casting them as the villains. But real-world witches aren't that bad. I've been to Alison's house. The only thing they ever use their powers for is housework. At worst, mild pranks. I mean, sure, there's been some bad witches in the past, but I don't think we should use history to judge a group of people that practice magic. It's a normal thing, people.

Besides, Alison is the nicest girl I know, and then she found my obsession with fairytales. She said, that for a 16th birthday present, she would give me the best damn fairytale I've ever had. She would give me the best birthday present ever; a curse. It was like she was my fairy godmother and evil witch, all in one. 

Time to live up to that promise, Al. 

I snuck up on her at her locker, before jumping on her in a hug. She screamed. "You okay?" I asked. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." She said. Before I could even bring up my present, Alison shushed me. "Wait, I know. Your present." She said. I nodded excitedly. 

She looked around to make sure no one was watching. She grabbed her bag from her locker. "Follow me." We snuck into the third-floor bathrooms of the school, totally alone. Alison stared at the door intensely for a few seconds, when we heard a click. The door locked. 

"Wow, you're getting better at that, huh?" 

"Yeah, I've been practicing." She said. "Now, your present." She pulled a few things out of her bag. Her mini-cauldron, a vial of blue liquid, a tin of apple seeds, and a tin of dried, red flakes. She passed me the cauldron. "Can you fill this with water for me?" She asked. I nodded excitedly, taking the cauldron from her hands. I filled it almost all the way, then set it back down. Alison had plugged in a portable stove, and I set it on that. In a few seconds, it had started boiling. 

Alison was mumbling something in Witchsa, the language of Witches. They are often associated with spell-casting, but Alison's family uses it for normal conversation too. In fact, it's Alison's first language. 

"I stole some of this stuff from mom." She said, holding the blue vial. "Namely, this vial, and that tin." She pointed to the tin of red flakes. 

"What are they?" I asked. 

"The blue vial is liquid glass. Technically, the spell calls for a glass slipper, but I don't use a wand, so I looked up the cauldron recipe online. It said that instead of using a whole slipper, you can melt the glass down, and that'll give the desired affect." She said. That was another thing about Alison's witchcraft; there were several ways to cast several spells, and Alison's preferred method of casting was via cauldron. I think this spell is most commonly done with a wand, but I guess you can make it in a cauldron. It's like cooking something in the microwave instead of the stove. A simple substitution that makes no difference. 

She pointed to the other two tins. "That one is apple seeds, obviously. Picked them myself. And that-" She pointed to the tin of dried red flakes. "That is blood." She said. 

I shrieked, but Alison shushed me. "It's okay, it's okay! The owner of it is long dead." We both looked at the tin of dried blood. "Obviously." She added. 

"Who's was it?" I asked. 

Alison leaned in and whispered; "The Original Witch." I gasped. "Yeah. I know. My mom won this in an auction. She'd kill me if she found out it was gone." 

The Original Witch was a big deal in the Witching Community. I forget her name, but The Original Witch was the first witch ever, and by extension, the most evil. She was eventually killed, but her influence has affected modern witches like Alison and her family. This was going to be potent. 

Alison added the entire vial of glass, four apple seeds, and then told me to hold my breath and close my eyes. I figured that that meant that the spell was going into action, but instead, Alison pinched me hard enough to make me cry. 

"OW!" 

"Shh!" Alison caught my tear on her finger and put it in the pot. 

"Could have warned me." I said, rubbing my sore cheek. 

"Now, the hard part." She said. She took the tin of blood, dabbed her finger in it, and then tried to shake it off into the pot. But it wouldn't come off. It was stuck to her finger. She kept shaking, but it wouldn't come off. 

"Try dipping your finger in the pot." I suggested. "The water will get it off." 

Alison nodded, and dipped her finger in, but instantly whipped it out, screaming. Her finger was red and burning as she blew on it. "Hotter than you expected?" I asked. She nodded, before looking around, nervous. "Where's the blood?" She asked. "Where is it?" 

I looked around, before finally seeing it. "I uh... think I found it." I pointed to the pot. Inside was a clear tin, which Alison pulled out. She looked terrified. "My parents are going to kill me." She said. 

"Will it make a difference?" I asked. 

"It'll just be a little more intense than normal." Alison explained. "I wouldn't recommend drinking it now, though."

But I wasn't listening. This was the closest I had gotten to my fairytale, and I was going to get it. I pulled a glass out of Alison's bag, and filled it up. 

"You sure you want to do this?" She asked.

"I've been waiting 16 years for my happy ending, Alison. If it means cursing myself, I'm going to get it." And with that, I drank the glass. 

"Huh. Minty."