Post by Nimue on Dec 8, 2015 9:44:37 GMT -5
Note: This is a story that has nothing to do with Charmed or with any other fandom: it is entirely my own creation, all rights belong to me. I wrote this story for one of my classes, and decided to share it with the Café. Thanks to Es for helping me with the editing!
The Witch
I sat in the seat, looking out of the window into the dark, cold night. Droplets of rain splattered hard against the window, the thunder was booming, and the lightening was positively blinding. As the next bolt of lightening struck, I closed my eyes, and lay my head against the window, trying to sleep… Just as the thunder cracked again, sounding just like a gunshot, the taxi driver suddenly blasted his horn and swore as the tires squealed, and the car swerved to the left, coming to a stop as it crashed into a tree. I felt my body slam against the seatbelt at the impact, all the air knocked out of my body.
“Are you alright, miss?” the driver asked, turning around with difficulty in his seat a minute later.
I wondered by what miracle we were still alive, and gripped the seatbelt even tighter. I just nodded.
“We’re not far from the house now, only a mile or so away. I’m sorry, miss, but if you’re really not badly hurt, we’ll going to have to go on foot from here. And I’m going to have to call a garage and see if they can get someone out here to tow my car. Really sorry for this inconvenience, miss.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” I said, untying my seatbelt and getting out of the car with difficulty. Luckily we hadn’t swerved into a ditch, just hit a poor tree. The rain was even worse than I thought it was, and it fell on us like thick sheets of icy water. Walk in this rain? Was he joking?
“Actually, I really have no idea what happened back there,” the driver said, quickly unlocking his trunk and getting my suitcases out. “One second, the road was completely empty, and the next this… this thing just rushes out right in front of the car and we hit a tree. It was probably just some wild animal.” He suddenly frowned as he looked at me. “Hey, you said you wanted me to drive you to the Brawley mansion, right? Are you related to them?”
Uh oh. “Maybe. But that’s really not important right now—”
“Wait a sec’, you wouldn’t be Willa Rae Brawley by any chance, would you?”
Oh no. Please no. Not here, not right now. “It’s just Willa, but yes, that would be me.”
He opened his mouth to ask something else, when another car appeared on the road, and a familiar voice spoke to us. “Willa Rae Brawley? Is that you?”
It’s Willa. I turned around, to see a tall man in his fifties walk hurriedly towards us, holding an umbrella over his head. He looked very familiar. I racked my brains, trying to remember his name.
“You probably don’t recognize me, Willa, but my name is Billy Bradley. I was your grandmother’s gardener.”
“Oh, that’s right! I’m sorry I didn’t immediately recognize you.”
“No problem. I’ll take it from here.” The driver just nodded, still regarding me curiously, as Billy Bradley and I ran to his car, the pouring rain lightening up to a light drizzle. I was grateful to be in a warm place again, relieved to be out of the rain.
On the way, Billy asked me about my life in New York, and I answered as best as I could. It had been so long since I’d been back in this place…
My grandmother had just recently died and left me her house, a house that had belonged to our family for the past four hundred years. Back in the old days, the property was a cotton plantation, which meant slaves worked for us, something everyone nowadays did their best to try and forget. I was feeling extremely reluctant about the whole affair: up till the age of ten, I had lived with my parents in that old house, but then we’d moved up North, to New York. I had been very happy there, away from all the talk about how strange the Brawleys were, how each generation had produced nothing but oddballs. Even my full name, Willa Rae, was source of dissatisfaction and annoyance to me, and in New York I had insisted everyone simply call me Willa. Over here, I would have to start that all over again, which would be harder since I was born here and most people would probably remember me quite well, even thirteen years later…
By the time we got there, it had stopped raining completely. I got out of the car, trying to squash the feelings of fear and dread I felt. The house was exactly as I remembered it. Tall, majestic, white pillars, a symmetrical shape and sprawling porch usually associated with the South. I repressed a sigh as we walked towards it.
The door opened and an old woman appeared on the porch. The housekeeper, Mrs Tess Vanderwell. I felt shocked as I saw how old she was, how tired she looked. Of course, the last time I’d seen her had been thirteen years ago but still…
“Willa,” she said, nodding her head at me. Well, at least she had got my name right. “Since you were over an hour late, I sent Billy out to find you. I hope your journey was fine?”
Ah, so that was why Billy had been driving by… I briefly explained what had happened, and Mrs Vanderwell looked terrified. “We will have a doctor check you out tomorrow. Are there any obvious injuries?” At this point we were inside the house, in the hallway. Again, nothing had changed, everything looked the same.
“Not really.” If the pain in my neck was anything to go by, I probably had whiplash, and some minor low back pain, but that was it. Nothing I couldn’t handle.
“Is there anything you would like to eat?”
“No thanks, I just really want to get some sleep now. I start working at the bank tomorrow.”
“That’s right, I remember you telling me on the phone. Follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
We walked down the corridor; I watched everything, trying to remember things. Everything looked both familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. Mrs Vanderwell had started talking about some work that was being done, and I was only half-listening. Suddenly, I stopped in front of a beautiful portrait of two young women who looked closely related to each other… and me. Mrs Vanderwell also stopped, and watched me curiously. “Do you remember this painting?”
“Uh… I’m not sure…. Oh hang on a minute, isn’t that Ada Mae and Isabelle Brawley?” They were both beautiful, both nearly identical, with curly dark hair and grey eyes.
“Do you know a bit about the history of this place, Willa Rae?” Tess Vanderwell asked, watching me with a speculative look, her whole demeanour suddenly changing.
I shrugged, still staring at the portrait. “A bit. It depends on what part you’re referring to.”
“I’m talking about the story of Ada Mae and her sister, Isabelle, the witches.”
I frowned, but nodded. “Sure, I know all about that. Ada Mae and Isabelle both lived at a time where witch hysteria was prominent, and not just in Salem; Georgia was also hit with it. They never got along, and there were rumors that Ada Mae was a witch. She was turned in by her own sister, and was hung. A few years later, Isabelle also died, but she drowned instead. Neither of them were really witches.”
“Is that what your parents told you?”
“Yes. Why? Is there more to the story?” I asked, turning to face her.
She suddenly looked excited. “Well, for one thing, Ada Mae and Isabelle weren’t just rumored to be witches: they really were witches. Maybe the only real witches in Salem and Georgia put together.”
For a second I could just stare at her, not sure about what she had just said. I was vaguely aware of Billy hovering in the background, listening closely but not saying anything. Then I burst out laughing. “Oh, Mrs Vanderwell,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Don’t tell me you really believe that? Because witches don’t actually exist, you know.”
“Who says they don’t? Science? And what does science know about it? Why, just a couple of centuries ago scientists didn’t the faintest idea of germs and bacteria and all of that, but now, supposedly, they know better. So who’s to say witches don’t really exist?”
I stopped laughing and stared at her doubtfully, trying to ascertain how serious she was.
“And there’s more to the story, more that your parents didn’t tell you, either because they didn’t know or they didn’t want you to know, whichever one. Supposedly, Ada Mae didn’t really die. They say that not long after, she returned from the dead, no longer alive, but not completely dead, either. She was something other. Some say that it was because she practised hoodoo that she came back under that form—”
I interrupted her. “Are you going to say she was a vampire? Now you’re going to tell me that vampires are real, too? And don’t you mean witchcraft instead of hoodoo?”
She scowled at me. “I may be old, but I still know what I’m saying, and I did mean hoodoo: although Ada Mae practised both witchcraft and hoodoo, she preferred hoodoo. And there’s nothing that says vampires don’t exist, either, just like witches. Now would you please stop interrupting me? I haven’t finished.”
I nod my apology. “Go ahead.”
“Now, Ada Mae wasn’t really a vampire, she didn’t have to sleep in coffins, or come out at night, or burn in the sunlight… But she did need blood to survive. Legend has it that she would haunt the plantation, scaring off half the slaves, and draining the others of their blood. A number of corpses were found, which proved this. But the strange thing is, after the Civil War, Ada Mae seemingly completely disappeared: she was never seen again, and the hauntings stopped. No one knows why, although it was a relief for the entire family, as well you can imagine.”
I bit my lip and turned back to look at the portrait, trying to keep my face blank. If Mrs Vanderwell persisted with these strange stories, I would have to find a way to let her go without a fuss: she was the one likely to scare people away with her strange, morbid tales, and the rumors about the Brawley family being “odd” would just continue. I hadn’t come back here for that.
“Do you know, both she and Isabelle had childhood rhymes they were particularly fond of?” Mrs Vanderwell continued, stepping closer to me; I took an automatic step back, but she didn’t look
offended. “Ada Mae’s favorite one was the Ring a Ring o’ Roses, while Isabelle’s was the mulberry bush. They would sing those for hours! Legend also has it that saying these rhymes will either bring them back from the dead, or on the contrary, make them disappear from this Earth. People say that’s how Ada Mae finally disappeared. ”
I nodded politely (wincing at the pain in my neck), still staring at the portrait, and decided to put an end to this conversation. I was tired, it was getting late, and her ghost story unnerved me more than I cared to admit. “Mrs Vanderwell, if you don’t mind, I really need to get some sleep now. I start work at the bank tomorrow at eight, and I do not want to be late on my first day.”
“Of course.” The faithful, efficient caretaker was back. “I will show you to your room at once.”
That night I didn’t get much sleep, thanks to Tess Vanderwell’s morbid stories. I kept dreaming about cloaked figures, surrounding a big fire and chanting in a forest. I dreamt about a young, mysterious woman trying to run away, and getting lost instead, with wolves howling in the background….
I awoke with a jump, sweat drenching my forehead, my heart racing erratically. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I jumped again and screamed. A woman was standing at the end of my bed, just staring at me!
I found the light and quickly turned it on, but no one was there. I clutched my blankets, trying to calm down my pulse. Had I just dreamed of the whole thing? Considering the place I was now living in, that was certainly possible. But I couldn’t think of that, not if I wanted to retain my sanity. I sighed, lay back down and immediately fell asleep again, this time undisturbed by dreams.
It was half past seven the next morning when I finally woke up, and I got dressed in a rush, hoping I would still make it to work on time, but doubting it. I really should have set the alarm clock.
When I went down to the kitchen, Billy was just finishing up his plate, and Mrs Vanderwell was doing the dishes. I felt a momentary surge of displeasure at her sight: it was her fault I was running late, her fault for filling my head with all this nonsense about witches and hoodoo… I mumbled a quick good morning, grabbed a couple of croissants that I immediately stuffed in my bag, and drank down my coffee so fast I almost burnt myself.
“In a hurry, Miss Willa Rae?” Billy asked.
“I’m running late. And please, Billy, just call me Willa,” I answered.
“Did you sleep well?” inquired Mrs Vanderwell. “I hope I didn’t disturb you with all my talk….”
I just glared at her while Billy sighed. “I’ll see you both later,” I snapped.
Unfortunately I was five minutes late to work, but the director accepted my excuse of getting lost, although I saw him exchange a glance with his assistant. I repressed a sigh. Great, just great. I had been in this town for just a few hours, and I had already made a bad impression on my first day.
Luckily enough, the rest of the day was uneventful and passed rather quickly. Mrs Vanderwell arranged an urgent appointment with the doctor, and the verdict was exactly what I’d thought it would be: whiplash, and minor back pain. I would have to be careful not to exercise too much, not to do anything that would make the situation worse.
When we got back the from doctor’s, it was raining again, just as hard as it had rained yesterday. Mrs Vanderwell tried to make small talk with me about my day, and I answered back as politely as I could, trying to erase the feeling of unease I felt around her.
As we walked into the house, Mrs Vanderwell claimed there was laundry to be done and disappeared, and I stopped in front of the portrait in the hallway, staring at the two sisters thoughtfully. Ada Mae was beautiful, but her beauty was cold, arrogant. Isabelle looked plainer in comparison, but her beauty was a simpler one. Apparently, she was the nice sister, the kind, reliable one. And yet, she was the one who had turned in Ada Mae. Things must have been pretty bad between them for her to do such a thing… I shuddered at the thought. What was that nursery rhyme, already?
Here we go round the mulberry bush, The mulberry bush, The mulberry bush. Here we go round the mulberry bush So early in the morning.
I paused briefly, another childhood memory coming back to me.
Dear Sweet Isabelle,
Please come back!
There was a huge burst of lightening at that moment, and the thunder that accompanied it a few seconds later sounded like two boulders crashing into each other. I jumped, shook my head, and went up to my room, feeling silly for starting to believe in such things.
The rain stopped the next morning, but the day ended rather badly. At noon, the manager of a shop called up to say that the clothes I had ordered yesterday would be delivered at the mansion today. I frowned, because apart from the doctor’s appointment I hadn’t been anywhere, and I certainly hadn’t bought anything. I didn’t need new clothes. The managed persisted, saying that he remembered meeting me around noon, and that I had, indeed, bought new clothes. When the conversation ended, I thought that maybe Mrs Vanderwell had taken the liberty of going out to town and buying me new clothes, as a welcome gift. But why, then, would the manager claim to have met me?
When I got back home that night, Mrs Vanderwell told me that she hadn’t been out to town, and that she hadn’t bought any new clothes for anyone. She suggested that maybe I just didn’t remember buying them because I was too tired. When I persisted, she fell silent, and refused to say anything more to me for the rest of the evening, giving me the silent treatment. Billy also claimed not having been out to town. I went to bed, confused and in a bad mood, and even more when I saw how expansive the clothes were. I definitely hadn’t bought them. I had the same dream that night, although this time a slave was being sacrificed and his blood was drained by the cloaked figures. His screams echoed in my head as I woke up, and it took me several hours to get back to sleep.
As I got into my car the next morning, and waited for Billy to drive out first (his car was blocking mine), I watched the grounds. Even after all this time they were still beautiful, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine what they had looked like four hundred years ago. Maybe I could get used to living here….
I put the key into the ignition, to start up the car; just as I looked up, glancing towards the old swing I used to play with as a kid, I spotted a young woman in a white dress staring at me. I jumped and gasped, unable to move. The young woman stared back at me, not moving. Time seemed to have completely slowed down, and there was no noise or anyone in the vicinity. She didn’t blink or move, her eyes full of malice and hatred, and goosebumps crept all over my body at her look. I sensed the beginning of a panic attack: my heart felt like it would implode, and a feeling of nausea, doom and dread all once filled my stomach. My hands clenched the wheel tightly, and I tried to muster a scream, to no avail. She continued to stare at me, and just as I was about to give into darkness, a door slammed somewhere in the distance, birds flew away from trees, and the feeling of nausea and dread instantly disappeared. I jumped again, and quickly backed out of the driveway. When I looked back up near the swing, the strange figure had disappeared and I breathed a sigh of relief. I was shaking all over the place as I drove to work, trying to understand what had just happened.
This couldn’t be…. it couldn’t possibly be Isabelle, could it? I couldn’t have summoned her with that nursery rhyme, could I? Because that was all it had been: a silly nursery rhyme. Ada Mae was the witch, not Isabelle… I whimpered at the thought, and tried to focus on the clients I would be meeting today. Nothing had actually happened: I dealt with facts and figures, not ghosts and magic.
By the end of the day, I had half-managed to convince myself that nothing had happened that morning, that I had just remembered it from my dream. Somehow that explanation didn’t reassure me.
I didn’t tell either Billy or Mrs Vanderwell what had happened; Mrs Vanderwell would probably start talking about Ada Mae and Isabelle again (which was the last thing I wanted), or she would just get angry at me, and Billy certainly wouldn’t believe me.
I decided to explore the house a little, and went up to the second floor. I briefly remembered a secret room I had found when I was little, and tried to find it again. I was sure I remembered where it was…
I finally found the door, the one with the rose petals carved on to it. Yes, that was the right door. Smiling, I tried the knob, but it wouldn’t open. I tried again, still nothing. I stepped back from the door, feeling immensely disappointed, and wondered if maybe Mrs Vanderwell would know where the key was…
As I turned around to leave, I almost had a heart attack again: the same strange figure was back. I tried to scream, but was once again frozen into place. But there was none of the malice or hatred in her eyes now. Up close her skin seemed translucent, and she seemed to be slightly hoovering in the air: as I noted the details I hadn’t been able to see this morning, she put her finger to lips, and shushed me. As I watched her in amazement, she slowly faded out of sight, leaving the corridor completely empty.
The rest of the week passed in a blur. For a couple of days, nothing happened, although what had already happened had made me a little paranoid. But then the weird things started up again, and I became increasingly afraid: more shops would call up claiming I had bought things that I hadn’t, people would speak to me about things that had happened that I had no recollection of, and I was pretty sure I was now being followed. In deserted streets or empty places, I would hear footsteps behind me, but when I turned around there was no one there. Everything seemed to point to me having a stalker of some kind: I refused to entertain the thought that it was Isabelle or Ada Mae following me around. It was just someone who would disguise themselves like them, and who obviously wanted the property, or who held a grudge of some kind against me or my family. Not very plausible, but it made more sense than any ghost explanation. I was also a little more obsessed with the mystery of the door. When asked about it, Mrs Vanderwell explained that my grandmother had had it locked up after we’d left, but that the key was lost. There was something evasive in her manner as she said this, and I knew there was more than she was letting on, but didn’t press her. I would figure things out on my own.
My dreams, or rather nightmares, were also getting worse and worse, to the point where I had now developed insomnia and had dark circles under my eyes.
On Saturday, a week after I had arrived here, I took a stroll around the grounds, feeling sure that nothing could happen since both Billy and Mrs Vanderwell were in the garden. I went down near the lake I used to play near as a child. The weather was bad, but not enough to warrant staying indoors: a low fog hung around the place, and there was a little wind, but nothing else. I reached the lake, but was disappointed at how ordinary it looked compared to how I had remembered it. It seemed smaller, for one thing, the water was murkier and dirtier, and the grass wasn’t as luscious or green as before.
With a sigh, I turned around to wander off elsewhere. I had just enough time to see someone standing behind me when I was suddenly pushed into the water!
The water was pushing down on me from all sides… I struggle but I get disoriented… Someone is holding me down, I can feel the pressure on my shoulders… Up down, left, right, nothing makes any sense… Cold water fills my lungs, suffocating me… blood pounds behind my eyes… everything is cold… the darkness engulfs me, and I have no energy left to fight…
I give into the darkness and let the water take me.
I awoke to the worst headache I had ever had. It literally felt like Woody Wood Pecker and half a dozen of his friends were pecking at my head. I opened my eyes, but was immediately blinded by the light.
“You can open your eyes now, there’s no more light,” a cold, clear voice ordered me.
Feeling like things couldn’t honestly get any worse, I sighed and opened my eyes, ready to cover them up again. But there was no more blinding light. I sat up, and saw that I was lying on a big, four poster bed that wasn’t all that comfortable. The room was nicely furnished, with thick, red drapes, big, expansive furniture made out of oak, and books everywhere. There was even a harp near the window. I realized I was in the locked room.
“You were supposed to drown,” continued the voice. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, because apart from a couple of lit candles, there was no light in the room. “You were supposed to drown, but you didn’t. I left you in the water long enough, but apparently you’re much stronger than I had planned… Oh well, I guess I can make use of you after all. Right now, you’ve been unconscious for more than a few hours, and have awoken just in time for midnight, the witching hour. You have truly marvellous timing.”
“Who… are you?”
For a few seconds nothing happened; I could hear my heart beat so fast it felt like I should die from a heart attack. Something moved from the shadows to my right, and I could suddenly distinguish a woman’s figure, but it wasn’t that of the ghost I had been seeing all around the property. I gasped: this woman looked exactly like me. She was about a couple of years older, and had much paler skin than I did, but otherwise we were identical: same dark, curly hair, same nose, same cheekbones, same grey eyes… I cowered back into the bed, goosebumps running all over my skin as I realized she was the source of all the strange occurrences that had been happening all week. My evil twin, my stalker.
“You don’t recognize me, do you? The woman from the portrait downstairs? Or maybe you don’t want to know…” she sneered. “I am Ada Mae, your ancestor… and doppelgänger.” She inclined her head at me, hands on her hips. I felt mesmerized by her face, which upon further examination, looked less and less like mine: it was angular, all features perfectly symmetrical, but her beauty was cold, her mouth turned down, and her face looked like it had a permanent scowl etched on it.
“Ada Mae, the witch,” I whispered, feeling slightly dizzy and wandering what Mrs Vanderwell was doing… Hadn’t she noticed my absence? I was pretty sure Billy would have noticed it.
“In person. Oh, don’t worry about your friend, he’s just lying in a ditch somewhere, dead,” Ada Mae declared as if she had read my thoughts; she now slowly walked around the bed, never taking her eyes off my face. “His blood really was the most delicious I have ever tasted, so he can take some consolation in that, I suppose. And being my most trusted ally, Mrs Vanderwell is, I assume, finishing up the potion. It shouldn’t take long now, midnight is almost here.”
“Billy… is dead?” I shook my head, unable to wrap my head around anything she was saying. I must be dreaming… this is a nightmare, and I will soon wake up. I want to wake up now! “You… drank his blood? Like… a vampire?”
“Do you… always speak… like this?” she cruelly mocked my tone. “And no, I’m not quite a vampire. I’m something better than that. And after I am finished with you, I will be something even more extraordinary… something that surpasses anything you have ever seen or met, or indeed ever will.” She laughed shrilly at that, like some mad banshee, and I cringed in terror, grabbing the blankets. I tried to move, to run out of this room, but I was suddenly frozen into place.
“No, no, no, you’re staying right here. You’re the guest of honor, after all.” She laughed again.
“Why are you doing this?” I demanded, trying to remain calm and think.
She sighed. “What do you think? I want to take over your life, of course. I must say, I had so much fun following you around all week, pretending to be you and scaring you… Because you see, even though I’m a particularly powerful witch, I am not powerful enough to live independently, without assistance. By killing you, I ensure that I no longer need to rely on drinking other people’s blood to survive. Everything will be the way it should be. You should have died in the water, just like my sister did, but you didn’t, so now I have to do this. More’s the pity, for drowning would have been much less painful then what is going to happen.”
“But why me? Why not kill someone else?” Had I really just said that?
“I am getting tired of your questions, Willa Rae-”
“It’s Willa,” I snapped.
“Willa Rae,” she continued, raising an eyebrow. “Because not only are you a descendent of mine, you also bear a remarkable resemblance to me. I don’t have time to go into a lengthily explanation (which I would really love to do), but the short version is that I specifically need your blood to make the ritual work.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.” I try to move again, but I still can’t.
“It’s not suppose to make any sense,” Ada Mae snipped, now moving around the bed again. I still couldn’t move. “Ah, here comes Mrs Vanderwell now.”
The door opened, and the elderly woman stepped in, looking more tired than I had ever seen her look. She was holding a phial in one hand, and in the other… what looked like a long, ceremonial dagger with a sapphire incrusted in it. It gleamed briefly in the light generated by the candle, casting a harsh glare, blinding me again. I gasped, and tried once more to move, but nothing happened.
“The potion is ready, Ada Mae,” the frail old woman said, not looking at me. “And the dagger has just been blessed.”
Ada Mae’s eyes brightened in excitement at her words, and she turned to look at me, her beautiful face full of longing. I suddenly starting shouting.
Ring-a-Ring o’Rosies,
A Pocket full of Posies,
“No, Willa Rae, don’t try. I promise you, everything be over very quickly, you won’t even have time to feel any pain,” Ada said, waving her hand, silencing me at once.
NO!
Mrs Vanderwell now stepped towards me, looking truly sorry as she raised her dagger. By now I was completely hysterical, thrashing around on the bed, while Ada just leaned forward, as if to get a better view.
I had never been much of a believer, but if there was any time to believe in anything it was now, and I found myself desperately and intensely believing in the magic of the other nursery rhyme:
Here we go round the mulberry bush, The mulberry bush, The mulberry bush. Here we go round the mulberry bush So early in the morning.
Dear Sweet Isabelle,
Please come back!
There was a loud crak as the door suddenly banged open. For a second there was nothing but darkness on the other side, but then a figure started to take shape. A woman who looked a lot like Ada, but whose beauty is warm and loving… The woman who had shushed me in front of the door, and who had made a couple of quick appearances since then.
“No! What have you done?!” Ada Mae shouted, staring in horror at Isabelle, who just silently hoovered in the background. “I had trapped her soul for all eternity! There was no way she could come back!”
At that moment, everything made sense, all the pieces fell into place, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Ah, but that’s why you need my blood for the ritual, isn’t it, Ada?” I said quietly. “Because when I didn’t drown, you knew only I have the power. I’m your descendent, remember?” It was my turn to laugh.
Isabelle seemingly smiled at me, and suddenly flew towards Mrs Vanderwell. Being the ghost she was, she went straight through the old woman. Mrs Vanderwell collapsed onto the floor, her face going blank, maybe from shock, fear, maybe something else. Ada screamed, and rushed towards her; something seem to snap inside of me, and I was free again. I grabbed one of the candles and threw it at her. Unfortunately, I had never been good at sports, and it missed her, crashing instead into the harp. Ada reached the old caretaker’s body, and snarled at me, sheer hatred gleaming in her eyes. I saw her mutter under her breath as she raised the dagger towards me. I grabbed the other candle on the other side and this time threw it squarely at her. “This is for both Billy Bradley and Tess Vanderwell, Ada Mae! Go rot in Hell!”
She screamed as the flames engulfed her, her pretty face twisting into pain and anger. I didn’t stay to watch the rest, I didn’t even turn back to watch Isabelle as I ran out of the room, jumping over Tess Vanderwell’s body, knowing she was dead. I quickly rushed down the corridor, coughing as the flames ate the walls. Ada must have enchanted those, too, because I didn’t know any fire that could spread that fast. There seemed to be smoke and fire everywhere, and everything was collapsing and falling to pieces.
As I arrived at the bottom of the stairs, the door suddenly burst open, and Billy appeared, looking half-dazed, but seemingly unharmed.
“Billy!” I shouted, throwing myself into his arms. “I thought you were dead! I thought she had killed you!”
Billy stumbled back, but quickly pushed me away. “She thought she had, but she didn’t. She probably had too much to drink before. Willa Rae, let’s get out of here now! The place is on fire!”
We ran out, just in time for most of the top floor to collapse. I could hear sirens wailing in the distance, and briefly thought about how I would explain this. Billy and I stopped at the beginning of the property, near the big, wrought iron gate, and turned around to watch the rest of the place crumble to ashes.
“Billy, what’s going to happen now?” I asked, clutching his arm, feeling like I was five years old again.
He shrugged, knowing I wasn’t talking about explaining any of this to the authorities. “Who knows. It’s entirely up to what you want to do, Willa. You’re free. As is the entire family.”
“I don’t want to turn out like Ada,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
I bit my lip thoughtfully as I watched the old house disappear. Up into the sky, over the house, I thought I saw two shadows float up into the air and disappear, but it was probably just my imagination running wild. In the grounds, near the swings I thought I saw Isabelle just standing there, looking at me, smiling. As I stared at her, for the first time since I’d been here, the clouds vanished, the fog disappeared and the sun shone. Isabelle raised her hand and waved, before slowly fading out of existence.
I felt a brief spasm of fear as I realized what was happening. The old plantation was gone for good: the place in which I had spent the first ten years of my life, the place in which Ada and Isabelle had quarrelled all their lives, the place that Ada had haunted and brought pain and death to after her own supposed demise, but that wasn’t really a problem.
A new place would be built, a place to start everything all over again. It was time to put the past to rest, and more forward to the future.
I could do that.
The End
The Witch
I sat in the seat, looking out of the window into the dark, cold night. Droplets of rain splattered hard against the window, the thunder was booming, and the lightening was positively blinding. As the next bolt of lightening struck, I closed my eyes, and lay my head against the window, trying to sleep… Just as the thunder cracked again, sounding just like a gunshot, the taxi driver suddenly blasted his horn and swore as the tires squealed, and the car swerved to the left, coming to a stop as it crashed into a tree. I felt my body slam against the seatbelt at the impact, all the air knocked out of my body.
“Are you alright, miss?” the driver asked, turning around with difficulty in his seat a minute later.
I wondered by what miracle we were still alive, and gripped the seatbelt even tighter. I just nodded.
“We’re not far from the house now, only a mile or so away. I’m sorry, miss, but if you’re really not badly hurt, we’ll going to have to go on foot from here. And I’m going to have to call a garage and see if they can get someone out here to tow my car. Really sorry for this inconvenience, miss.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” I said, untying my seatbelt and getting out of the car with difficulty. Luckily we hadn’t swerved into a ditch, just hit a poor tree. The rain was even worse than I thought it was, and it fell on us like thick sheets of icy water. Walk in this rain? Was he joking?
“Actually, I really have no idea what happened back there,” the driver said, quickly unlocking his trunk and getting my suitcases out. “One second, the road was completely empty, and the next this… this thing just rushes out right in front of the car and we hit a tree. It was probably just some wild animal.” He suddenly frowned as he looked at me. “Hey, you said you wanted me to drive you to the Brawley mansion, right? Are you related to them?”
Uh oh. “Maybe. But that’s really not important right now—”
“Wait a sec’, you wouldn’t be Willa Rae Brawley by any chance, would you?”
Oh no. Please no. Not here, not right now. “It’s just Willa, but yes, that would be me.”
He opened his mouth to ask something else, when another car appeared on the road, and a familiar voice spoke to us. “Willa Rae Brawley? Is that you?”
It’s Willa. I turned around, to see a tall man in his fifties walk hurriedly towards us, holding an umbrella over his head. He looked very familiar. I racked my brains, trying to remember his name.
“You probably don’t recognize me, Willa, but my name is Billy Bradley. I was your grandmother’s gardener.”
“Oh, that’s right! I’m sorry I didn’t immediately recognize you.”
“No problem. I’ll take it from here.” The driver just nodded, still regarding me curiously, as Billy Bradley and I ran to his car, the pouring rain lightening up to a light drizzle. I was grateful to be in a warm place again, relieved to be out of the rain.
On the way, Billy asked me about my life in New York, and I answered as best as I could. It had been so long since I’d been back in this place…
My grandmother had just recently died and left me her house, a house that had belonged to our family for the past four hundred years. Back in the old days, the property was a cotton plantation, which meant slaves worked for us, something everyone nowadays did their best to try and forget. I was feeling extremely reluctant about the whole affair: up till the age of ten, I had lived with my parents in that old house, but then we’d moved up North, to New York. I had been very happy there, away from all the talk about how strange the Brawleys were, how each generation had produced nothing but oddballs. Even my full name, Willa Rae, was source of dissatisfaction and annoyance to me, and in New York I had insisted everyone simply call me Willa. Over here, I would have to start that all over again, which would be harder since I was born here and most people would probably remember me quite well, even thirteen years later…
By the time we got there, it had stopped raining completely. I got out of the car, trying to squash the feelings of fear and dread I felt. The house was exactly as I remembered it. Tall, majestic, white pillars, a symmetrical shape and sprawling porch usually associated with the South. I repressed a sigh as we walked towards it.
The door opened and an old woman appeared on the porch. The housekeeper, Mrs Tess Vanderwell. I felt shocked as I saw how old she was, how tired she looked. Of course, the last time I’d seen her had been thirteen years ago but still…
“Willa,” she said, nodding her head at me. Well, at least she had got my name right. “Since you were over an hour late, I sent Billy out to find you. I hope your journey was fine?”
Ah, so that was why Billy had been driving by… I briefly explained what had happened, and Mrs Vanderwell looked terrified. “We will have a doctor check you out tomorrow. Are there any obvious injuries?” At this point we were inside the house, in the hallway. Again, nothing had changed, everything looked the same.
“Not really.” If the pain in my neck was anything to go by, I probably had whiplash, and some minor low back pain, but that was it. Nothing I couldn’t handle.
“Is there anything you would like to eat?”
“No thanks, I just really want to get some sleep now. I start working at the bank tomorrow.”
“That’s right, I remember you telling me on the phone. Follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
We walked down the corridor; I watched everything, trying to remember things. Everything looked both familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. Mrs Vanderwell had started talking about some work that was being done, and I was only half-listening. Suddenly, I stopped in front of a beautiful portrait of two young women who looked closely related to each other… and me. Mrs Vanderwell also stopped, and watched me curiously. “Do you remember this painting?”
“Uh… I’m not sure…. Oh hang on a minute, isn’t that Ada Mae and Isabelle Brawley?” They were both beautiful, both nearly identical, with curly dark hair and grey eyes.
“Do you know a bit about the history of this place, Willa Rae?” Tess Vanderwell asked, watching me with a speculative look, her whole demeanour suddenly changing.
I shrugged, still staring at the portrait. “A bit. It depends on what part you’re referring to.”
“I’m talking about the story of Ada Mae and her sister, Isabelle, the witches.”
I frowned, but nodded. “Sure, I know all about that. Ada Mae and Isabelle both lived at a time where witch hysteria was prominent, and not just in Salem; Georgia was also hit with it. They never got along, and there were rumors that Ada Mae was a witch. She was turned in by her own sister, and was hung. A few years later, Isabelle also died, but she drowned instead. Neither of them were really witches.”
“Is that what your parents told you?”
“Yes. Why? Is there more to the story?” I asked, turning to face her.
She suddenly looked excited. “Well, for one thing, Ada Mae and Isabelle weren’t just rumored to be witches: they really were witches. Maybe the only real witches in Salem and Georgia put together.”
For a second I could just stare at her, not sure about what she had just said. I was vaguely aware of Billy hovering in the background, listening closely but not saying anything. Then I burst out laughing. “Oh, Mrs Vanderwell,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Don’t tell me you really believe that? Because witches don’t actually exist, you know.”
“Who says they don’t? Science? And what does science know about it? Why, just a couple of centuries ago scientists didn’t the faintest idea of germs and bacteria and all of that, but now, supposedly, they know better. So who’s to say witches don’t really exist?”
I stopped laughing and stared at her doubtfully, trying to ascertain how serious she was.
“And there’s more to the story, more that your parents didn’t tell you, either because they didn’t know or they didn’t want you to know, whichever one. Supposedly, Ada Mae didn’t really die. They say that not long after, she returned from the dead, no longer alive, but not completely dead, either. She was something other. Some say that it was because she practised hoodoo that she came back under that form—”
I interrupted her. “Are you going to say she was a vampire? Now you’re going to tell me that vampires are real, too? And don’t you mean witchcraft instead of hoodoo?”
She scowled at me. “I may be old, but I still know what I’m saying, and I did mean hoodoo: although Ada Mae practised both witchcraft and hoodoo, she preferred hoodoo. And there’s nothing that says vampires don’t exist, either, just like witches. Now would you please stop interrupting me? I haven’t finished.”
I nod my apology. “Go ahead.”
“Now, Ada Mae wasn’t really a vampire, she didn’t have to sleep in coffins, or come out at night, or burn in the sunlight… But she did need blood to survive. Legend has it that she would haunt the plantation, scaring off half the slaves, and draining the others of their blood. A number of corpses were found, which proved this. But the strange thing is, after the Civil War, Ada Mae seemingly completely disappeared: she was never seen again, and the hauntings stopped. No one knows why, although it was a relief for the entire family, as well you can imagine.”
I bit my lip and turned back to look at the portrait, trying to keep my face blank. If Mrs Vanderwell persisted with these strange stories, I would have to find a way to let her go without a fuss: she was the one likely to scare people away with her strange, morbid tales, and the rumors about the Brawley family being “odd” would just continue. I hadn’t come back here for that.
“Do you know, both she and Isabelle had childhood rhymes they were particularly fond of?” Mrs Vanderwell continued, stepping closer to me; I took an automatic step back, but she didn’t look
offended. “Ada Mae’s favorite one was the Ring a Ring o’ Roses, while Isabelle’s was the mulberry bush. They would sing those for hours! Legend also has it that saying these rhymes will either bring them back from the dead, or on the contrary, make them disappear from this Earth. People say that’s how Ada Mae finally disappeared. ”
I nodded politely (wincing at the pain in my neck), still staring at the portrait, and decided to put an end to this conversation. I was tired, it was getting late, and her ghost story unnerved me more than I cared to admit. “Mrs Vanderwell, if you don’t mind, I really need to get some sleep now. I start work at the bank tomorrow at eight, and I do not want to be late on my first day.”
“Of course.” The faithful, efficient caretaker was back. “I will show you to your room at once.”
That night I didn’t get much sleep, thanks to Tess Vanderwell’s morbid stories. I kept dreaming about cloaked figures, surrounding a big fire and chanting in a forest. I dreamt about a young, mysterious woman trying to run away, and getting lost instead, with wolves howling in the background….
I awoke with a jump, sweat drenching my forehead, my heart racing erratically. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I jumped again and screamed. A woman was standing at the end of my bed, just staring at me!
I found the light and quickly turned it on, but no one was there. I clutched my blankets, trying to calm down my pulse. Had I just dreamed of the whole thing? Considering the place I was now living in, that was certainly possible. But I couldn’t think of that, not if I wanted to retain my sanity. I sighed, lay back down and immediately fell asleep again, this time undisturbed by dreams.
It was half past seven the next morning when I finally woke up, and I got dressed in a rush, hoping I would still make it to work on time, but doubting it. I really should have set the alarm clock.
When I went down to the kitchen, Billy was just finishing up his plate, and Mrs Vanderwell was doing the dishes. I felt a momentary surge of displeasure at her sight: it was her fault I was running late, her fault for filling my head with all this nonsense about witches and hoodoo… I mumbled a quick good morning, grabbed a couple of croissants that I immediately stuffed in my bag, and drank down my coffee so fast I almost burnt myself.
“In a hurry, Miss Willa Rae?” Billy asked.
“I’m running late. And please, Billy, just call me Willa,” I answered.
“Did you sleep well?” inquired Mrs Vanderwell. “I hope I didn’t disturb you with all my talk….”
I just glared at her while Billy sighed. “I’ll see you both later,” I snapped.
Unfortunately I was five minutes late to work, but the director accepted my excuse of getting lost, although I saw him exchange a glance with his assistant. I repressed a sigh. Great, just great. I had been in this town for just a few hours, and I had already made a bad impression on my first day.
Luckily enough, the rest of the day was uneventful and passed rather quickly. Mrs Vanderwell arranged an urgent appointment with the doctor, and the verdict was exactly what I’d thought it would be: whiplash, and minor back pain. I would have to be careful not to exercise too much, not to do anything that would make the situation worse.
When we got back the from doctor’s, it was raining again, just as hard as it had rained yesterday. Mrs Vanderwell tried to make small talk with me about my day, and I answered back as politely as I could, trying to erase the feeling of unease I felt around her.
As we walked into the house, Mrs Vanderwell claimed there was laundry to be done and disappeared, and I stopped in front of the portrait in the hallway, staring at the two sisters thoughtfully. Ada Mae was beautiful, but her beauty was cold, arrogant. Isabelle looked plainer in comparison, but her beauty was a simpler one. Apparently, she was the nice sister, the kind, reliable one. And yet, she was the one who had turned in Ada Mae. Things must have been pretty bad between them for her to do such a thing… I shuddered at the thought. What was that nursery rhyme, already?
Here we go round the mulberry bush, The mulberry bush, The mulberry bush. Here we go round the mulberry bush So early in the morning.
I paused briefly, another childhood memory coming back to me.
Dear Sweet Isabelle,
Please come back!
There was a huge burst of lightening at that moment, and the thunder that accompanied it a few seconds later sounded like two boulders crashing into each other. I jumped, shook my head, and went up to my room, feeling silly for starting to believe in such things.
The rain stopped the next morning, but the day ended rather badly. At noon, the manager of a shop called up to say that the clothes I had ordered yesterday would be delivered at the mansion today. I frowned, because apart from the doctor’s appointment I hadn’t been anywhere, and I certainly hadn’t bought anything. I didn’t need new clothes. The managed persisted, saying that he remembered meeting me around noon, and that I had, indeed, bought new clothes. When the conversation ended, I thought that maybe Mrs Vanderwell had taken the liberty of going out to town and buying me new clothes, as a welcome gift. But why, then, would the manager claim to have met me?
When I got back home that night, Mrs Vanderwell told me that she hadn’t been out to town, and that she hadn’t bought any new clothes for anyone. She suggested that maybe I just didn’t remember buying them because I was too tired. When I persisted, she fell silent, and refused to say anything more to me for the rest of the evening, giving me the silent treatment. Billy also claimed not having been out to town. I went to bed, confused and in a bad mood, and even more when I saw how expansive the clothes were. I definitely hadn’t bought them. I had the same dream that night, although this time a slave was being sacrificed and his blood was drained by the cloaked figures. His screams echoed in my head as I woke up, and it took me several hours to get back to sleep.
As I got into my car the next morning, and waited for Billy to drive out first (his car was blocking mine), I watched the grounds. Even after all this time they were still beautiful, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine what they had looked like four hundred years ago. Maybe I could get used to living here….
I put the key into the ignition, to start up the car; just as I looked up, glancing towards the old swing I used to play with as a kid, I spotted a young woman in a white dress staring at me. I jumped and gasped, unable to move. The young woman stared back at me, not moving. Time seemed to have completely slowed down, and there was no noise or anyone in the vicinity. She didn’t blink or move, her eyes full of malice and hatred, and goosebumps crept all over my body at her look. I sensed the beginning of a panic attack: my heart felt like it would implode, and a feeling of nausea, doom and dread all once filled my stomach. My hands clenched the wheel tightly, and I tried to muster a scream, to no avail. She continued to stare at me, and just as I was about to give into darkness, a door slammed somewhere in the distance, birds flew away from trees, and the feeling of nausea and dread instantly disappeared. I jumped again, and quickly backed out of the driveway. When I looked back up near the swing, the strange figure had disappeared and I breathed a sigh of relief. I was shaking all over the place as I drove to work, trying to understand what had just happened.
This couldn’t be…. it couldn’t possibly be Isabelle, could it? I couldn’t have summoned her with that nursery rhyme, could I? Because that was all it had been: a silly nursery rhyme. Ada Mae was the witch, not Isabelle… I whimpered at the thought, and tried to focus on the clients I would be meeting today. Nothing had actually happened: I dealt with facts and figures, not ghosts and magic.
By the end of the day, I had half-managed to convince myself that nothing had happened that morning, that I had just remembered it from my dream. Somehow that explanation didn’t reassure me.
I didn’t tell either Billy or Mrs Vanderwell what had happened; Mrs Vanderwell would probably start talking about Ada Mae and Isabelle again (which was the last thing I wanted), or she would just get angry at me, and Billy certainly wouldn’t believe me.
I decided to explore the house a little, and went up to the second floor. I briefly remembered a secret room I had found when I was little, and tried to find it again. I was sure I remembered where it was…
I finally found the door, the one with the rose petals carved on to it. Yes, that was the right door. Smiling, I tried the knob, but it wouldn’t open. I tried again, still nothing. I stepped back from the door, feeling immensely disappointed, and wondered if maybe Mrs Vanderwell would know where the key was…
As I turned around to leave, I almost had a heart attack again: the same strange figure was back. I tried to scream, but was once again frozen into place. But there was none of the malice or hatred in her eyes now. Up close her skin seemed translucent, and she seemed to be slightly hoovering in the air: as I noted the details I hadn’t been able to see this morning, she put her finger to lips, and shushed me. As I watched her in amazement, she slowly faded out of sight, leaving the corridor completely empty.
The rest of the week passed in a blur. For a couple of days, nothing happened, although what had already happened had made me a little paranoid. But then the weird things started up again, and I became increasingly afraid: more shops would call up claiming I had bought things that I hadn’t, people would speak to me about things that had happened that I had no recollection of, and I was pretty sure I was now being followed. In deserted streets or empty places, I would hear footsteps behind me, but when I turned around there was no one there. Everything seemed to point to me having a stalker of some kind: I refused to entertain the thought that it was Isabelle or Ada Mae following me around. It was just someone who would disguise themselves like them, and who obviously wanted the property, or who held a grudge of some kind against me or my family. Not very plausible, but it made more sense than any ghost explanation. I was also a little more obsessed with the mystery of the door. When asked about it, Mrs Vanderwell explained that my grandmother had had it locked up after we’d left, but that the key was lost. There was something evasive in her manner as she said this, and I knew there was more than she was letting on, but didn’t press her. I would figure things out on my own.
My dreams, or rather nightmares, were also getting worse and worse, to the point where I had now developed insomnia and had dark circles under my eyes.
On Saturday, a week after I had arrived here, I took a stroll around the grounds, feeling sure that nothing could happen since both Billy and Mrs Vanderwell were in the garden. I went down near the lake I used to play near as a child. The weather was bad, but not enough to warrant staying indoors: a low fog hung around the place, and there was a little wind, but nothing else. I reached the lake, but was disappointed at how ordinary it looked compared to how I had remembered it. It seemed smaller, for one thing, the water was murkier and dirtier, and the grass wasn’t as luscious or green as before.
With a sigh, I turned around to wander off elsewhere. I had just enough time to see someone standing behind me when I was suddenly pushed into the water!
The water was pushing down on me from all sides… I struggle but I get disoriented… Someone is holding me down, I can feel the pressure on my shoulders… Up down, left, right, nothing makes any sense… Cold water fills my lungs, suffocating me… blood pounds behind my eyes… everything is cold… the darkness engulfs me, and I have no energy left to fight…
I give into the darkness and let the water take me.
I awoke to the worst headache I had ever had. It literally felt like Woody Wood Pecker and half a dozen of his friends were pecking at my head. I opened my eyes, but was immediately blinded by the light.
“You can open your eyes now, there’s no more light,” a cold, clear voice ordered me.
Feeling like things couldn’t honestly get any worse, I sighed and opened my eyes, ready to cover them up again. But there was no more blinding light. I sat up, and saw that I was lying on a big, four poster bed that wasn’t all that comfortable. The room was nicely furnished, with thick, red drapes, big, expansive furniture made out of oak, and books everywhere. There was even a harp near the window. I realized I was in the locked room.
“You were supposed to drown,” continued the voice. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, because apart from a couple of lit candles, there was no light in the room. “You were supposed to drown, but you didn’t. I left you in the water long enough, but apparently you’re much stronger than I had planned… Oh well, I guess I can make use of you after all. Right now, you’ve been unconscious for more than a few hours, and have awoken just in time for midnight, the witching hour. You have truly marvellous timing.”
“Who… are you?”
For a few seconds nothing happened; I could hear my heart beat so fast it felt like I should die from a heart attack. Something moved from the shadows to my right, and I could suddenly distinguish a woman’s figure, but it wasn’t that of the ghost I had been seeing all around the property. I gasped: this woman looked exactly like me. She was about a couple of years older, and had much paler skin than I did, but otherwise we were identical: same dark, curly hair, same nose, same cheekbones, same grey eyes… I cowered back into the bed, goosebumps running all over my skin as I realized she was the source of all the strange occurrences that had been happening all week. My evil twin, my stalker.
“You don’t recognize me, do you? The woman from the portrait downstairs? Or maybe you don’t want to know…” she sneered. “I am Ada Mae, your ancestor… and doppelgänger.” She inclined her head at me, hands on her hips. I felt mesmerized by her face, which upon further examination, looked less and less like mine: it was angular, all features perfectly symmetrical, but her beauty was cold, her mouth turned down, and her face looked like it had a permanent scowl etched on it.
“Ada Mae, the witch,” I whispered, feeling slightly dizzy and wandering what Mrs Vanderwell was doing… Hadn’t she noticed my absence? I was pretty sure Billy would have noticed it.
“In person. Oh, don’t worry about your friend, he’s just lying in a ditch somewhere, dead,” Ada Mae declared as if she had read my thoughts; she now slowly walked around the bed, never taking her eyes off my face. “His blood really was the most delicious I have ever tasted, so he can take some consolation in that, I suppose. And being my most trusted ally, Mrs Vanderwell is, I assume, finishing up the potion. It shouldn’t take long now, midnight is almost here.”
“Billy… is dead?” I shook my head, unable to wrap my head around anything she was saying. I must be dreaming… this is a nightmare, and I will soon wake up. I want to wake up now! “You… drank his blood? Like… a vampire?”
“Do you… always speak… like this?” she cruelly mocked my tone. “And no, I’m not quite a vampire. I’m something better than that. And after I am finished with you, I will be something even more extraordinary… something that surpasses anything you have ever seen or met, or indeed ever will.” She laughed shrilly at that, like some mad banshee, and I cringed in terror, grabbing the blankets. I tried to move, to run out of this room, but I was suddenly frozen into place.
“No, no, no, you’re staying right here. You’re the guest of honor, after all.” She laughed again.
“Why are you doing this?” I demanded, trying to remain calm and think.
She sighed. “What do you think? I want to take over your life, of course. I must say, I had so much fun following you around all week, pretending to be you and scaring you… Because you see, even though I’m a particularly powerful witch, I am not powerful enough to live independently, without assistance. By killing you, I ensure that I no longer need to rely on drinking other people’s blood to survive. Everything will be the way it should be. You should have died in the water, just like my sister did, but you didn’t, so now I have to do this. More’s the pity, for drowning would have been much less painful then what is going to happen.”
“But why me? Why not kill someone else?” Had I really just said that?
“I am getting tired of your questions, Willa Rae-”
“It’s Willa,” I snapped.
“Willa Rae,” she continued, raising an eyebrow. “Because not only are you a descendent of mine, you also bear a remarkable resemblance to me. I don’t have time to go into a lengthily explanation (which I would really love to do), but the short version is that I specifically need your blood to make the ritual work.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.” I try to move again, but I still can’t.
“It’s not suppose to make any sense,” Ada Mae snipped, now moving around the bed again. I still couldn’t move. “Ah, here comes Mrs Vanderwell now.”
The door opened, and the elderly woman stepped in, looking more tired than I had ever seen her look. She was holding a phial in one hand, and in the other… what looked like a long, ceremonial dagger with a sapphire incrusted in it. It gleamed briefly in the light generated by the candle, casting a harsh glare, blinding me again. I gasped, and tried once more to move, but nothing happened.
“The potion is ready, Ada Mae,” the frail old woman said, not looking at me. “And the dagger has just been blessed.”
Ada Mae’s eyes brightened in excitement at her words, and she turned to look at me, her beautiful face full of longing. I suddenly starting shouting.
Ring-a-Ring o’Rosies,
A Pocket full of Posies,
“No, Willa Rae, don’t try. I promise you, everything be over very quickly, you won’t even have time to feel any pain,” Ada said, waving her hand, silencing me at once.
NO!
Mrs Vanderwell now stepped towards me, looking truly sorry as she raised her dagger. By now I was completely hysterical, thrashing around on the bed, while Ada just leaned forward, as if to get a better view.
I had never been much of a believer, but if there was any time to believe in anything it was now, and I found myself desperately and intensely believing in the magic of the other nursery rhyme:
Here we go round the mulberry bush, The mulberry bush, The mulberry bush. Here we go round the mulberry bush So early in the morning.
Dear Sweet Isabelle,
Please come back!
There was a loud crak as the door suddenly banged open. For a second there was nothing but darkness on the other side, but then a figure started to take shape. A woman who looked a lot like Ada, but whose beauty is warm and loving… The woman who had shushed me in front of the door, and who had made a couple of quick appearances since then.
“No! What have you done?!” Ada Mae shouted, staring in horror at Isabelle, who just silently hoovered in the background. “I had trapped her soul for all eternity! There was no way she could come back!”
At that moment, everything made sense, all the pieces fell into place, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Ah, but that’s why you need my blood for the ritual, isn’t it, Ada?” I said quietly. “Because when I didn’t drown, you knew only I have the power. I’m your descendent, remember?” It was my turn to laugh.
Isabelle seemingly smiled at me, and suddenly flew towards Mrs Vanderwell. Being the ghost she was, she went straight through the old woman. Mrs Vanderwell collapsed onto the floor, her face going blank, maybe from shock, fear, maybe something else. Ada screamed, and rushed towards her; something seem to snap inside of me, and I was free again. I grabbed one of the candles and threw it at her. Unfortunately, I had never been good at sports, and it missed her, crashing instead into the harp. Ada reached the old caretaker’s body, and snarled at me, sheer hatred gleaming in her eyes. I saw her mutter under her breath as she raised the dagger towards me. I grabbed the other candle on the other side and this time threw it squarely at her. “This is for both Billy Bradley and Tess Vanderwell, Ada Mae! Go rot in Hell!”
She screamed as the flames engulfed her, her pretty face twisting into pain and anger. I didn’t stay to watch the rest, I didn’t even turn back to watch Isabelle as I ran out of the room, jumping over Tess Vanderwell’s body, knowing she was dead. I quickly rushed down the corridor, coughing as the flames ate the walls. Ada must have enchanted those, too, because I didn’t know any fire that could spread that fast. There seemed to be smoke and fire everywhere, and everything was collapsing and falling to pieces.
As I arrived at the bottom of the stairs, the door suddenly burst open, and Billy appeared, looking half-dazed, but seemingly unharmed.
“Billy!” I shouted, throwing myself into his arms. “I thought you were dead! I thought she had killed you!”
Billy stumbled back, but quickly pushed me away. “She thought she had, but she didn’t. She probably had too much to drink before. Willa Rae, let’s get out of here now! The place is on fire!”
We ran out, just in time for most of the top floor to collapse. I could hear sirens wailing in the distance, and briefly thought about how I would explain this. Billy and I stopped at the beginning of the property, near the big, wrought iron gate, and turned around to watch the rest of the place crumble to ashes.
“Billy, what’s going to happen now?” I asked, clutching his arm, feeling like I was five years old again.
He shrugged, knowing I wasn’t talking about explaining any of this to the authorities. “Who knows. It’s entirely up to what you want to do, Willa. You’re free. As is the entire family.”
“I don’t want to turn out like Ada,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
I bit my lip thoughtfully as I watched the old house disappear. Up into the sky, over the house, I thought I saw two shadows float up into the air and disappear, but it was probably just my imagination running wild. In the grounds, near the swings I thought I saw Isabelle just standing there, looking at me, smiling. As I stared at her, for the first time since I’d been here, the clouds vanished, the fog disappeared and the sun shone. Isabelle raised her hand and waved, before slowly fading out of existence.
I felt a brief spasm of fear as I realized what was happening. The old plantation was gone for good: the place in which I had spent the first ten years of my life, the place in which Ada and Isabelle had quarrelled all their lives, the place that Ada had haunted and brought pain and death to after her own supposed demise, but that wasn’t really a problem.
A new place would be built, a place to start everything all over again. It was time to put the past to rest, and more forward to the future.
I could do that.
The End