Sarah Ravencroft Novels & Stories

‍ Zara is jus‍t lea⁠vin‌g. “I know. I’​m just—yo‍you're growi​ng up to​o fast‌.” “‍I’‍m eighte‌en‌. That’⁠s normal growing speed.” ​“Still too fast.” We g‌et her settled. Meet her roommate—a girl named Sarah. “​Another Sarah!” I‌ excl⁠aim. “‌Is​ that weird?” Zara asks. “No​t​ weird​. Just—nost⁠algic.”

Opening the grimoire, I found the page where I had left off and looked for the next entry and began to read it… It’s been a few days now since I have seen Christopher and I wonder if I had done something wrong to keep him from me. I feel a fire within me that calls to him and I wonder if I have been given a second chance at love. Either way I will never know if he stops coming around. Sarah on the other hand has been a good friend to me and I don’t feel so lonely when she is around. It is as if she eases my mind when she is around and I feel free from what is bothering. I’m wondering if Sarah is using her gift on me by taking away the painful memories temporarily from me while I am with her.

“It's better you don't know for now Sarah!“ She said “Well, screw that I want to know!“ She said and stomped out of the kitchen to meet the others. “So apparently y'all are keeping something from me, who is my mother?“ She said and they all stared at her in shock, Christy right behind her “You didn't tell her?“ “It's hard keeping the truth away from a mind reader for 16 years, I think it's time she knows who her mother is!“ Christy said “Woah, so it's y'all plan, who is she?“ Sarah said “Olivia!“ “Olivia?“ “Renetha's daughter!“ “What!“ she exclaimed “I'm Renetha's granddaughter?“ she added “Yes, you are!“ Christy said.

Something that I had been yearning to hear from someone. I know I was falling for her. I was falling hard, and that there was no turning back now. "The king of the dark witches, Neptune. What brings you here?" The witch friends I had been talking about asked me, bringing me out of my ecstatic land. Nodding my head at her, I placed my phone before sitting on the stool near her. Sarah was a 1300 years old witch and was one of the witches that were naturally good at their stuff. I don’t usually respect all the witches. This witch had my respect because she was a friend of my mother apart from her strong magic.

A robin landed on the edge of one of the headstones, tilting its head as if in curiosity before letting out a single, sharp chirp. Sarah laughed gently, her heart swelling. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She lingered there a little longer, talking softly, about the show, about Raven, about the drama with Beatrice and Victoria and Cecilia. About the headlines and the praise and the new world opening up at her feet. But beneath it all, she just talked like a daughter would to the only parents she’d ever known. Finally, as the sun began its slow descent, Sarah rose to her feet, brushing off her dress. She kissed her fingers and pressed them gently to each stone.

I resisted an urge to roll my eyes and took a deep breath. "Good evening," I started. "My name is Sarah Hill. Some of you might have heard my name already. I happened to win several contests. I also featured in a few prestigious magazines, but none of this would have been possible if it weren't for the Ravenford Foundation. This foundation changed my life. They believed in my talent. They supported me. And I will be forever grateful for their faith in me…"

The world around her was still, the result of a spell of silence. Sarah stormed into the library, throwing a book of her own. It was odd to see her daughter behaving in such a manner, doubly so to see her rant but not hear it. Elizabeth finished transcribing her current page and set her quill down. Stoppering the vial of human blood she had been writing with, she snapped her fingers, breaking the spell. "-and to top it all of, some asshole hacked our website and my profile picture is a giant dick!" Sarah kicked the book, launching it across the room. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Evidence of dark magic stained everything—dead animals, scorched earth, symbols carved into bark. "Someone's been busy," Thomas muttered beside me, his nose wrinkling at the corruption in the air. I didn't respond, my attention caught by something glinting in the early morning light ahead. Something gold, partially buried in the mud of the forest path. I approached slowly, then knelt to pick it up. The moment my fingers closed around it, my heart stopped. A golden hairpin. Simple but elegant, with a small wolf's head carved into the top. I'd commissioned it months ago from a craftsman in my territory. Had given it to Racheal the night before she'd disappeared, a small gift to mark her progre

“I, uh, liked the one with all the corners.” “The abstract? Yes, I liked that one too. I kept thinking pixies were about to start popping out all over it.” Sarah picks up one of the little savoury pastries from the plate beside her coffee, and nibbles on it. “So, you’re an artist. I’m a musician.” She’s watching me. Is she… testing me? She’s eyeing me as if I’m under examination. Is this how humans normally react when they meet their Mate? Do humans not feel the same almost-irresistible draw that werewolves do? “Do you have any hobbies?”

She did not relish stepping out into the fierce tropical heat again. Ruth was a city girl, born and bred. She liked order and neatness in her life. The sprawling lushness of the vegetation, just feet away from her bungalow, made her feel uneasy. Well, there was no help for it. She needed to know what was going on. Hastily plaiting her damp hair, she left it hanging over one shoulder. As she left her bungalow, she saw another of the women leaving her apartment. She recognised Sarah Reynolds. Sarah worked for a firm of London bankers. The two women fell into step.