The Woes of Wicked Witchery
The wheat fields swayed peacefully in the cold Autumn wind of the countryside, crows soaring in the pink evening sky. The sun was setting in the horizon ever slowly and there was nothing to obscure it's beauty except for ample green hills. A large Gothic Victorian palace stood proudly and intimidatingly so in an open plain. It was the secluded Academy of Magic for only the most skilled users of magic. Everyone who sheltered under it's roof were all quite talented and possessed many a great future of sorcery. Just last week the Academy was accepting new recruits into it's open arms, and Alastair Monroe was one of them. The young girl in her teens was a perky ocelot, excited to expand and explore the many magical talents she stored within. She was mostly interested in the magics of potion brewing and herbology as her mother was a botanist, so Alastair was quite acquainted with flowers and the sort.

Alastair entered her small dormitory and purred to herself as she smelled the faint smell of the cobblestone walls. The room was cold as the outside air blew in from an open window, the ocelot scampering to it and closing it gently. She took a quick scan of her room with her amber eyes with a soft smile. It was coming together nicely, but she still had some unpacking to do. It was mostly minor things like curtains and trinkets to bring her back to her old home if she ever felt homesick. She had eaten her dinner down in the cafeteria and she had already turned in her due assignments to her mentor. She had all the remaining time for the night to do some experiments with her available ingredients in the cauldron. Most of the recipes in the book required a higher skill level to preform;Alastair was only a newbie, but she couldn't wait any longer to get started. She eagerly skipped to the large black cauldron she possessed in her dorm that the administration had allowed her to keep and eyed the many vials which rested on her wall shelves. She knelt down and checked the kindling under the cauldron, making sure if it needed anything added to it before she lit it. She only added a few cotton balls to it from her storage closet and ignited the kindling. She took a deep whiff of the burning wood and materials and it reminded her of the old fashioned stove her mother used to cook her meals in. She took one more trip to her storage closet to grab a large jug of water, which fortunately had enough to fill the cauldron half way. Alastair's arms were relieved once the ocelot set down the emptied jug;it was quite heavy, even when not filled with water. Soon enough the water was boiling at a satisfactory pace and Alastair decided it was alright to start putting in the ingredients. She reached for a vial, who's glass was blurry and purple. "Ailanthus altissima.." She read the label out loud to herself, sounding intrigued. "Sounds fancy..!" She exclaimed as she popped the cork and poured the entire contents of the vial into the boiling water. The fumes of the thin fluid smelled of rancid peanuts and maybe a pinch of sweaty socks. Alastair winced at the smell and squeezed her nose closed tightly to avoid breathing in anymore of the pungent smell. "Bleeh..o-okay, what's next..?" She talked to the empty space in her room as she eyed the other vials. She reached for a porcelain jar and twisted the lid off. She examined the fine yellow powder inside, grabbing a handful and tossed it into the cauldron. The mixture gave off steam and clouds of smoke that reminded the young girl of the potions witches made all the time in movies. She marveled as it's obscuring wonder before fanning it away. She was getting more excited by the minute as she randomly grabbed another vial of liquid. It had the same consistency of the last one only the fluid was a colored a translucent black. She popped the cork off and poured all of it into the cauldron. She was having quite a lot of fun with this as she reached for another vial of powder and added a pinch of it to the mixture.

Alastair wiped sweat from her forehead;the heat of the boiling mixture caressed her face everytime she leaned over it. She grasped a wooden spoon and began to stir the fluid so all the ingredients would get evenly mixed, taking large whiffs of the potion. It still smelled sour and its stung her nostrils each time she breathed. She cringed at the pain  the fumes gave her nostrils as she bottled up some of the liquid in an empty vial. The liquid was still hot beneath the glass. Alastair's heart started to race with excitement as she would drink her potion once it cooled down. She swished around the vial as she bit her bottom lip in anxiousness. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt if I just drank it now.." The curious ocelot pondered to herself as she eyed the liquid, sediments of powder floating in it. Ah, why the hell not? Alastair pressed the vial's opening to her mouth, tipping her head back, and drinking the entire contents of it. She cringed in disgust;her lips puckering in response to the taste on her tongue. The potion tasted like cough syrup. She shivered after she swallowed and gagged. "H-Hak..! U-ugh..! This stuff tastes terrib-" She was cut off by a wave of immense dizziness, followed by a slight pain in her head. She rubbed her scalp and groaned in discomfort, leaning against the wall. "U-UUuhHhng...o-ooh god.." She moaned in anguish as she gritted her teeth. Her headache started to worsen until her veins pulsed in her skull. She started to wheeze heavily as she felt her dinner coming up her esophagus. She gagged and her mouth gaped open, trying to vomit. Nothing would come up. She started to panic as she was overwhelmed by a variety of symptoms. Her arms and legs started to tingle as if they were asleep. "N-Nnghh..h-hhaaa..s-someone help..!" She croaked out. It was too quiet, even for her. It was highly unlikely anybody else would hear it outside of her dorm. Her intestines gurgled loudly;cramping and clenching. She tightly gripped her robe as she groaned louder, starting to sob. "H-HuuUU...G-GghaaaH..!" She whined loudly and yelped as she felt her guts involuntarily spew hot liquid feces into her bloomers. She sobbed in shame as she completely messed herself and her freshly cleaned clothes. She then collapsed as her limbs were seized by paralysis, landing bosom first into the mess in her bloomers. She squealed with digust and writhed in pain on the cold floor, keeling over to her side and clenching her stomach. She finally vomited, spewing thick and hot chunks of half-digested cashew-butter sandwich onto the floor. "B-BlURrrrrgg...!" Alastair emitted sickening sounds as she expelled everything from her gut. Her eyes rolled up into her head as she started to spasm suddenly and seized on the floor. She foamed at the mouth as her esophagus clenched and refused to swallow any spit. "GGlrlggrllb...BllgrgL..." She gurgled loudly as her muscles twitched and jerked and her torso lurching upwards in the air. Suddenly, everything went quiet and the only thing the poor ocelot could hear were the sounds of pure silence. Her body lay there stiff and still on the cold floor;her eyes were red and bulging from the sockets. Her tongue was blue and swollen under all the foam. Alastair Monroe's heart started to cease pumping after the rapid dance it preformed in the cage it was held within, followed by the death of her brain. The poor girl's life was cut short in the hands of the Academy. Her death was ruled a suicide, and she was buried in the fields of wheat that surrounded the Gothic Victorian palace. Crows soared in the early morning sky.