Prophesy: The Immortal Witch (8)

Part 7 at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/prophesy-immortal-witch-7

 

The transition from routine ramble in familiar settings to alien surroundings, albeit panoramic and beautiful, had been mind-blowing. As much as Billy knew that the world was full of latent hidden anomalies, this event had been by far the strangest of his young life. It was all so difficult to make sense of and here was yet another incident that threw any pretence that he was ever going to be as normal as everyone else into turmoil.

Replacing the ephemeral storm was a calm cloudless sky now mirroring a sapphire sea; both seemingly endless with distant lingering horizons. The engulfing maelstrom from only minutes ago was not peripatetic it seemed.

The sand of a different beach kissed the bottoms of their feet having shuffled through the last few feet of water like rain-drenched zombies, the tang of salt caught in the breeze as the odour of decaying seaweed drifted from the shore.

“What…the…fffffudge…just…happened?!”

The magnitude of the incident post Brean Fort was now washing over Danielle; delayed shock that made her feel like she had just been run over by rampaging wildebeest.

Billy pensively rubbed his hairless chin.

“Well…I hate to say it but…well…I think we just got hijacked by a sort of whirlwind.”

As though clarity was impossible he added:

“And deposited in the middle of nowhere. Don’t ask me to explain. I’m confused myself.”

Danielle looked dazed, overawed.

Billy looked at her with imploring eyes more in hope than expectation as he hesitatingly enquired:

“I left my phone at home. I don’t suppose…”

Watching intently, his whole body became rapt as she absently reached inside the pocket of a sodden coat. As though on autopilot, she pulled out a device.

“Waterproof. Thankfully.”

Examining the mobile, closer scrutiny revealed there was no signal.

“I don’t suppose there are phone masts in a place like this.”

The air was saturated in disappointment with the realisation that the phone was useless.

“Can’t get any Internet connection either.”

A cluster of rocks on the shoreline provided a convenient place to rest, both slumping down on a flat section.

“I…am…minging. These clothes are well soaking. And my trainers are wrecked.” Billy lamented, peeling his jacket off and placing it next to him.

“I know what you mean.” Danielle followed suit taking her coat off. The sun was beating down, almost sub-tropical, the heat in stark contrast to the damp foggy atmospherics of Brean Down. Abruptly, she stood up throwing both arms skyward.

“Whoa – what are you doing?”

Billy had moved to take his waterproof bottoms off.

“Sorry, I was just checking….oh….just checking how wet everything is.”

“Oh…I seeeee. Well yes, I think we should dry out somehow before doing anything else.”

Danielle felt relieved that nothing untoward was unfolding.

“Looks like there’s a cove over there. Maybe we should do our own thing.”

“Sure. Let’s hope there really is nobody about.” Billy pushed himself up from his hips in a whiplash motion, planting soggy feet on warm sand. “I’ll meet you back here when I’m sorted.”

He strode off, keen to disrobe and get dry again, preferably hidden behind as much cover as he could find.

As both of the youngsters self-consciously went about removing dripping items of clothing and placing them on surfaces that would maximise the heat of the sun, it gave them a chance to take stock of the curious muddle that had ensnared them.

Billy’s sense of guilt showed no sign of abating. He had found himself mixed up with a girl he liked, triggering a rush of sensations that were exhilarating yet terrifying. He wanted to impress the pretty lass but was still acutely aware of how new this was for him; the danger of embarrassing himself constantly close.

For her part, Danielle just wanted to look respectable once more. Her coat, unicorn tee shirt, pink cotton bottoms and designer sneakers were all cooking like an impromptu barbeque. She had taken an instant liking to the boy from the beach but was struggling to understand what had happened since greeting him on the Down. One minute they were messing about on rocks, the next swept away to Paradise Lost. Was she dreaming? She did suffer from dark reveries, after all.

It was half an hour of solo activity before the intrepid duo got together again, redressed and dryer than before. To their combined relief, they had still not encountered either man or beast.

Danielle could have sworn Billy was looking her up and down out of the corner of his eye; checking her out.

“Are you any good at rowing?” He flashed a cheeky smile.

For a while they both stared at the jetty with the boat attached by rope. There were no clues as to ownership or its purpose. Ominously, it did suggest that someone was around somewhere.

“Can’t say that I have ever tried. What about you? Even if we did get in that boat, how would we know where to go?”

It was sound logic in an unsound situation. A vast expanse of water stretched out as far as the eye could see in all directions.

“Maybe we should check it out at least.”

Without waiting for an answer, Billy started walking towards the jetty forging a trail of foot prints as he went. Breaking waves rhythmically rolled in and out staining sand a darker shade of ochre.

Danielle decided to follow also making her way to the wooden construction. A walkway rotting in places was supported by struts, drooping sisal handrails on either side making it easier to stroll along. Kneeling down, Billy peered at the boat hoping to find something of interest on board. Other than a couple of oars bobbing gently in the water, there was nothing to indicate whose craft it was. It was bereft of any other contents but for a wooden slat that formed a seat.

“Hmmmm….yes. Well…as my mum would say…it’s Hobson’s choice and all that.” (Billy’s mother had used the expression once, promptly having to explain the meaning to her, at times, naïve son.)

“Right then. Into the valley of the unknown it is. Lead on Macduff.”

A flailing arm was thrown landward. Danielle scratched her head pondering who Macduff was as she fell in line, blissfully unaware that Billy had sometimes heard the name quoted by Mr Jenkins – the headmaster - when rounding up straying pupils for morning assembly.

It was easy enough to pick up a worn trail through the trees. Whether it was man-made or natural was hard to tell. Having breached palm trees circling the perimeter, the dirt path led them past ash and oak, hawthorn and sycamore trees. The resinous smell of bark and branch made Billy think of Sutton Park in Birmingham with its five-bar gates, fishing lakes and herds of cows ruminating in wild pastures.

Under the arboreal canopy, there was a surprising coolness to the air, propagated by dank moisture at times. They made a point of staying close, worried about losing sight of each other in the half-light, flashes of sun glinting through breaks in branches overhead. Scrub, frond, Mediterranean Peony and Wild Wallflower all appeared at times as they navigated the island’s flora. 

Just when they were beginning to wonder how long the woods went on for, a clearing appeared. Emerging, they found themselves looking at a circular area. It was hard to gauge exact bearings but Billy wondered whether they were at the centre point of the rambling woodland.

In the middle were dishevelled graves, worn headstones poking out of the ground. Danielle shivered at the sight.

“What do you suggest this time?” she whispered as though they were in church.

Billy considered their options. Either turn back, avoid the archaic cemetery and move on or check out the burial site. His instinct was reluctantly the latter bearing in mind that they were right on top of the stones.

“Let’s have a quick mooch. Maybe turn back shortly.”

His voice carried authority which wasn’t matched by his feelings. He needed to protect his new friend; nascent noble thoughts.

Danielle nervously bit her bottom lip. This wasn’t turning out how she had hoped. She would have preferred a remote branch of MacDonalds or even a ranger station. Anything but this.

“I don’t mind going on my own if you want to wait here?”

Tense words uttered without boyish bravado.

“No….I’d better come with you.”

Together they crept cautiously towards the tombstones.

Billy examined the scene, counting markers in his head, nodding as he checked them off. Thirteen. There were thirteen. Unlucky for some. The nearest grave-bed was overgrown with weeds, moss and lichen obscuring anything that may have been engraved underneath. He pulled at straggling algae, it coming away leaving a stain behind.

There were just two words etched on the monument – FREDDY BENTNER.

The name triggered a fleeting familiarity but the significance was vaguely beyond reach. He knew he had heard that name somewhere. Danielle stood to the side, watching with care.

“Does that say Freddy Bentner?”

Letting the moss spring back into place, Billy scrambled to stand again.

“Yeah. Mean anything to you?”

“That’s the name of a boy who disappeared a while back. I think.”

 

Image @ Wiki Commons