“Jada don’t forget you have dinner at your Grandmother's tonight,” shouted my mom as she was leaving for her monthly hair appointment, which in my opinion were so unnecessary. I am really close with my Grandma and would eat at her house regularly, so this wasn't strange… until I got there.

I turned the rusty old metal door knob as the usual ear piercing squeak hit me and I opened the door. The aroma of sweet cinnamon tingled my nose. I took off my shoes and placed them next to the wood stove against the chimney. It still gave off the same cozy heat I remembered from my childhood. I walked into the kitchen feeling my toes go cold as the floor switched from carpet to tile. My Grandma came close and turned my head with her cold and boney, yet gentle hands and gave  me a big wet kiss.

“Ew Grandma what are you cooking?” I asked as I look over at her other hand holding a wooden spoon covered in sticky green goo. Joking around, I went to go lick the spoon. My Grandma quickly snatched the spoon back and looked at me, as if I had done something terribly wrong.

“Don’t eat this,” she said, “It will kill you”. She turned around and walked towards the counter. Mysterious beakers filled with strange colored liquid were scattered among my Grandma’s kitchen. The colors ranged from a gross army green to a bright fire truck red. Confused, I turned the corner to see a giant black pot steaming on the stove top. Each beaker’s scent was more disgusting than the last.

“Stop touching things Jada,” demanded my Grandma.

“Okay okay, but do you mind explaining all this please?,” I asked walking over over to the pot. It was filled with a dark green liquid that appeared to be too thick to even be considered liquid.

“I am making a potion,” said my Grandma. “One that could kill off any of our enemies, it's very dangerous so stay away,” she said with a serious tone.

“What do you mean OUR enemies?” I asked confused.

“You just don't get it,” my grandma yelled.  

She grabbed my hand as she lead me upstairs. The walls were made of cold gray bricks and the steps lead straight up, each one more steep than the last. An uneasy feeling filled my guts, as I was unaware that this part of the house even existed. My legs were sore by time we reached the top. The same brick walls continued beyond the stairs. The ceilings were low set and dark in color. My Grandma turned around to face me. “What’s going on?” I asked as she stared blankly into my eyes.

She grabbed the handle on a big metal door behind her and said “It’s time I tell you the family secret”. The door swung open and the room was dark with barely any lighting. There were shelves stacked from top to bottom with multiple jars labeled with words I didn’t know. Towards the back of the room a desk was pushed up against the wall. On top was a pile of old dusty books and a skull. The jars were larger than the beakers downstairs and they were sealed tightly with corck screwed tops. This time the jars were filled with objects. Not being able to see, I move closer. Dead rats and frogs. Fingers and eyeballs. Seeing these floating in green liquid turned my stomach upside down. I pushed my grandma out of the way and bent over at the wall. “Weak stomachs aren't aloud here,” said my grandma as she helped me up.

We walked over to the back of the room and my grandma pulled out a book from the pile. The book slams down on the desk  causing me to jump from the loud bang. The book flies open and pages begin to turn one by one. Stunned, I looked up at her to see her hands moving to the motions of the pages. “Whats going on here Grandma, are you a witch or something?” I asked almost in tears.

A wooden broom came soaring across the room and straight into my hands. I felt indents on the handel where my hand was. Slightly turning  it around I looked down to see my full name carved neatly into the broom. “Don't you mean are WE witches?,” said my grandma.