Prophesy: The Immortal Witch (4)

Part three at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/prophesy-immortal-witch-3

To the east of Brean Down, dawn brings an orange ball of candescent light creeping over the horizon casting a hue over the mouth of the River Axe with Brent Knoll majestic in the distance. Of the great and secret shows that abound in nature, sunrise is surely one of the most spectacular. Having ascended the headland, that’s exactly what Tanya King thought as she looked out over a stunning vista.

The early hours were special, the splendour of nature and the delightfulness of having an experience all to herself made the effort of getting up worthwhile. Sitting cross-legged in meditation, she closed her eyes to absorb the universe. Dew from grass seeped through baggy tracksuit bottoms sending a chill up her spine. To harness nature’s force was to be able to receive something primeval yet, to all intents and purposes - good. Magic to be embraced.

She had slept fitfully, distractions filling her head. Sometimes it was difficult to switch off. The upside was that there was something deliciously illicit about being out and about in half-light knowing that daybreak was nearing. It was a time of peace and solitude, gentleness before the rattle and hum of a new day.

Opening her eyes once more, the reverie was broken by the sight of a man walking his golden retriever on the beach in the distance. Silver light cascaded across bushes and trees, the shrill call of seagulls at odds with the sight of them gliding gracefully on eddies high in the sky. Away in the Channel, egrets swooped seeking fish in the sea whilst cormorants traversed waterways as though royalty surveying their avian kingdom.

She hadn’t always been an early bird; bouts of insomnia had led to yoga at dawn.  It was her friend and work colleague – Collette - who had suggested taking up the ancient art during break in the staffroom. She had said it was one way of dealing with Deputy Head Mr Jenkins and his reign of tyranny. As much as she loved her job, things were easier during the school holidays; no children to teach or chase after. Work was her vocation at Berrow Primary Church Academy. Nevertheless, the end of term could never come soon enough.

Feeling centred, she decided to head back to the caravan. It was a ten minute hike including a descent down steps etched into cliffs. When the weather wasn’t good she would satisfy herself with a session on the sands instead.

Tanya had lived in a static on the beach for the last five years. It had been part of a divorce settlement following the breakdown of her marriage to Glenn. Since parting ways, her former husband had remained in Bristol living in a rented flat. They kept in touch, as much for the sake of their daughter as anything else. The bitterness that was left from those acrimonious days had all but subsided now. They both had their own lives to live and neither begrudged the other seeing their offspring even if was Tanya that had been granted custody. After all, it was Glenn that had strayed from the path of monogamy by having an affair with philandering Jenny from accounts.

Whilst there was the odd dog walker up and about, generally things were still quiet with just the occasional sign of people active in neighbouring caravans. That also went for her daughter Danielle who was still asleep. Mindful of not making too much noise, the electric kettle was switched on to make coffee. She would eat soon. Until they were both up, she would read for a while whilst people-watching through the long front window. Stephen King’s Cujo would keep her occupied. One day she would make enquiries as to whether she and the famous author were related; surely stranger things happened at sea or something like that.

Waiting for the kettle to boil, Tanya padded over to the small bathroom. Rinsing her face with water, she found herself staring at the mirror. For a thirty-something she reflected that she was doing ok. Maybe her eyes were a little puffy but she liked her blonde hair tied at the back like that and thought that being thought of as pretty by some wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Her face had been described as elfin at times. Maybe she belonged in a world of hobbits and earthen burrows.

It was a couple of hours later that a stirring noise came from one of the bedrooms. Tanya’s gaze went from her watch showing the time as 08:14 to a white composite door as it slowly opened and a young girl’s face appeared side on, holding it with two hands, one above the other.

“Morning lovely. Ready for breakfast? I thought we might go for a stroll on the beach in a bit.” Tanya spoke in quiet, soothing tones. She was a born and bred Bristolian and had the yokel twang that went with it.

“Hmmmmm…..maybe. Will we get ice-cream?” A yawn stifled the question.

Danielle was typical of most young girls, maturing rapidly for her age. However, this didn’t prevent a yearning for childish wants and needs. She padded into the lounge wearing cotton pyjamas with pink and blue unicorns running wild in the pattern. Wiping sleep from her eyes, she threw her arms around her mother, hugging mum around the waist. Tanya stroked her daughter’s hair.

“Sleep well?”

Danielle pushed herself away, flinching at the question.

“Oh…please…not the nightmare again.” Tanya wore a concerned expression.

After a moment pondering, the young girl nodded slowly.

“So the same one; we need to get this fixed don’t we?”

Danielle had told her mother about a recurring nightmare a few weeks ago having being found screaming in the middle of the night. Eventually (and reluctantly) after being asked subtle probing questions, she had disclosed the events of her dream:

Danielle is in a forest of black and white terrain, a sepia landscape of ragged branches protruding like sharp talons. She is lost, aimlessly wandering around desperately trying to find a way out. Seemingly for hours. There is a sense of foreboding, something stalking her that’s just out of sight. The cat and mouse game goes on, claustrophobia expanding like an ink blot on paper. Thorns tear at her legs, drawing blood as she stumbles through bushes. Before she can see who her pursuer is, she wakes, breathing rapid, bedclothes tangled from frantic writhing.

Mother and daughter exchanged a knowing expression. Tanya wanted to know why these nightmares were happening and what needed to be done to stop them. It was a worry. She had made enquiries with Doctor Evans, her GP, who had suggested it might be something to do with the parental parting of ways although it was more the province of a child psychologist. Tanya had been advised that the waiting list for mental health services was long and an accepted referral unrealistic unless more profound consequences came from the night terrors. Danielle’s situation would continue to be monitored for now.

It was time to lift the mood and change the subject.

Releasing her daughter, Tanya shuffled over in her slippers to the cooker and opened a head-high cupboard door.

“Right…we have a weekend ahead and….drum roll…..noooooo school. Let’s get this show on the road…..starting with…..ta-da…breakfast.”

Danielle shrugged indifferently before sloping away into the lounge area at the front of the caravan. Curling up on the sofa, she reached for her mobile phone secreted in the pocket of her PJs whilst taking scant interest in the sunshine outside. If she had checked the weather forecast it would had indicated a corker of a day ahead. Instead, she clicked on TikTok and scrolled for updates from her friends.

Tanya had never been comfortable with her 11-year-old daughter using an App meant for older users. Like many parents, she tolerated it understanding how important it was for children to stay in touch with peers. As a teacher she knew that she wasn’t setting a great example by going along with it. The deputy head would not be impressed. Should he ever find out it would be more demerit point deductions for Mrs King. Either that or forty lashes with a metaphorical cat o’ nine tails.

She rolled her eyes at the sight of Danielle loafing on her mobile. From the mouths and minds of babes she thought; only they didn’t stay babes for very long. Not when the vagaries of the entire world were rolled out in front of kids from a young age thanks to the omnipresence of those infernal networks. Either way, she was determined to tease her away from that blasted hand-held device. The lure of the beach should entice her daughter towards more beneficial pursuits; certainly more productive that surfing social media. She hoped so.

Image free to use at: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Caravan_park,_Brean_Down_Road_-_...