"I have no work..."
"I don't need to think..."
"I live uselessly but stress-free..."
..."Yay!"
Once upon a time, because that's how you start a novel, in a swamp so muggy, dark but magical with its own ecosystem of exotic bugs, animals and curses! There lived a very, very lazy witch.
A mere look at her, and the weak-hearted might just die on the spot!
Morbid isn't it? That's what happens when you're born with such striking beauty that one feeble man would burst like bubbles with a smile on their faces.
Perhaps I should rename the title to The Villainous Crimson Witch, but this novel will drown among the truly villainous ones!
Ahem—
The witch is smiling as we speak, it was a wide, satisfied smile.
Long live Aurelia Orlandei! She was, by her own proud declaration, a professional couch potato.
"Yippee!"
She does own a couch, within her treehouse, but she prefers a hammock strung between two enchanted willow trees, floating slightly off the ground, with a teapot that refilled itself when she sighed just right.
Sigh...
The lady did sigh just right, the teapot now owes her a debt with delicious tea or else she'll kidnap the teapot family.
She was indeed powerful, a crimson witch feared for their phenomenal prowess in sorcery and magic, or witchcraft, but what's the difference between these terms? Nothing!
I have zero respect for the English language...
Ahem—
Cough cough—
My apologies...
The witch could snap her fingers and make lightning rain from the sky or summon a basilisk just to fetch her slippers.
But why would she?
That takes too much effort! Power was draining, even with her copious amounts of mana, that small amount of expenditure was already exhausting.
Drinking Tea, however, was bliss.
She was gifted with long, flowing, and pure white hair that reached past her delicate shoulders, with a soft and silky texture.
One might even wonder where she's getting her shampoo and conditioner? She's in a swamp! But that's not important right now, isn't it?
You don't need to know...
Whatever brand she uses, it helps elevate her bangs that are nearly cut, framing her sharp and adoring eyes.
You might not be able to win a staring contest against such a beauty, can you even survive her piercing pinkish-red with a mischievous and cunning glint gaze? It even matches her confident smirk.
She was smug and self-assured, though if one were to make her smile, she could conjure seductiveness; unfortunately, her charisma lay dormant, due to the procrastination that clouds her.
Is that tragic? Depends on who you ask!
But our lazy witch still has enough energy to be stylish! For someone like her, a tight, form-fitting black and red outfit does the job.
Her top was black with a keyhole chest cutout, strategically ventilated in the chest region, defying the laws of button physics.
A visible high collar, with a large, expensive-looking gemmed pendant, perhaps her heirloom? The lower part of her outfit has red sleeves and corset-like straps, adding a gothic touch to the witch flair.
If one were to zoom in to glance at the witch's face, they might encounter red star-shaped earrings that complement her color scheme.
Are you surprised, or even perhaps annoyed, that the narrator won't shut up about her appearance? Well, I do apologize, but why stop here?!
I am, of course, just joking.
If you're curious, she's slender and small-framed, now imagine the little gremlin.
Her days went something like this:
"What's an alarm?!" the witch said. Some might even wonder, does she have room temperature IQ, or is she just being silly? It's quite impossible to tell which one applies to the witch.
Does the witch just let fate dictate what time she wakes up every day? No, she's smarter than that, she's all natural.
I'm talking about the sunbeam hitting through the stained glass windows, directly aimed at her small forehead.
Now, the narrator could increase her forehead size by an incredible amount, to the length of a runway for maximum sun coverage, but I'm not that merciless.
Every time the sunbeam hit her forehead, her poor, beautiful eyes were caught in the crossfire. The sun may have held a grudge against our little witch.
But the sun really needed to choose its enemies wisely.
The witch groaned in displeasure.
"How dare the sun ruin my napping session?" she said calmly, pulling a pink pillow over her face and muttering a spell that made the sunbeam flicker out of existence.
Suffice it to say, humanity asked themselves:
"Where did the sun go?"
Now imagine panic noises. Children crying. Grown men screaming. Some might even be on their knees praying, Not knowing a lazy witch from a swamp was the cause.
The event was so absurd, so cosmically stupid, that ants and frogs spontaneously started a cult in her name.
"Long live Aurelia Orlandei!"
Not that they were actually speaking, mind you. They were just making ant noises and frog noises.
The sun eventually retired—ahem, I meant returned, the story somehow doesn't follow the laws of physics.
I'm as lazy, as the witch....
Your Honor, it's a fantasy. I rest my case.
But eventually, our witch felt lazy being asleep. She too needed her daily sustenance. How else was she going to maintain her gorgeous figure and appearance?
Our witch is self-conscious! Isn't that a miracle? She rolled out with all the grace of a sleepy sloth and floated down the staircase.
Not even walking. As in her logic.
"Walking is for peasants. And I? I'm royalty of the hammock!"
Her first mission was tea...
Oh no! She's British?! Good heavens...
Today's blend was a simple starlit fogleaf, with a hint of cinnamon. These leaves...
They came from a dimension she accidentally opened while sneezing during a full eclipse.
Does that make sense? Yes, it does. Use your imagination.
She poured it into her specialized teacup. Fret not, she's not barbaric. Her teacup was porcelain, with the words "Do No Harm (Unless Bored)" painted on the sides.
While sipping, she sat on her floating bench just above the swamp, looking over her peaceful garden.
"I have no work..."
"I don't need to think..."
"I live uselessly but stress-free..."
"...Yay!"
She repeated her mantra—which was her life philosophy.
But in the distance, a frog exploded out of sheer spite.
She didn't bother paying attention. She had learned the art of sitting back and observing, as not everything needs a reaction.
Sometimes in life, if it's unexplainable, the best answer will always be: nuh-uh!
"I'm not a witch!"
"I'm a potato!" Said the witch calmly.
Chapter End.