Prophesy - The Immortal Witch (6)

Part 5 at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/prophesy-immortal-witch-5

Sunday morning brought with it a thick enveloping mist rolling inland from the sea; a coastal shroud covering everything in its path. It would burn off later in the day but, meanwhile, visibility was akin to billowing smoke from a bonfire. Undeterred, Billy set out for the Downs in search of adventure. Steps leading up the side of the cliff face beckoned in the fog. By the time the limestone elevation at the summit had been reached, houses, caravans and beach had been engulfed by an indelible haze.

A gravel path led around both sides of the hillock. In the middle were bushes and scrubland scattered across grass. At the seaward end was the Napoleonic Brean Fort, a graffiti-strewn concrete monument consisting of outbuildings and bunkers. Beyond that were rocks and the Bristol Channel where the islands of Steep Holm and Flat Holm sat in waters isolated from the mainland.

Billy headed in the direction of the derelict garrison. A hike of 1.5 miles across to the end of the Peninsula was a daunting trek for an eleven-year-old boy but he had done before. It was an escape from the real world, a place where imagination could run wild. At the Fort he would often find himself staring out to sea picturing German warships in convoy, a flotilla bent on bombarding British shores, an urgent siren sounding to man the battlements and repel invaders. He had seen his fair share of World War II movies on the telly.  

On any other day he would see clearly all manner of flora alive amongst white limestone rocks as he made his way to his destination. The pink and mauve of scabious swaying in the breeze, thistle and mallow resplendent in the wilderness; wind-affected hawthorn blown backwards as though caught in a wind tunnel amongst a landscape of elder and privet trees. All was shrouded by pervasive mist casting a desolate reflection on a sepia background.   

Billy bristled with anticipation at having the site to himself. He thought it unlikely that anyone else would be there when the weather was like this. It was an eerie feeling wandering along in this peasouper. He remembered previously encountering passers-by emerging from vapour like spirits making an unwanted dream-like appearance. In reality, it was invariably just another tourist or dog walker.

As his mind drifted he felt odd; as though he could see beyond a veil that was only visible to him. Like peering into an ephemeral intangible world that was fleeting and would dissipate when the sun came out. A world that teased its existence. Every rustling sound was magnified by a disembodied association that came with the murkiness.

He thought about the incident with the girl on the beach. Did he look like a jerk when challenging those little kids? What did she think of him? He realised afterwards that he had failed to get her name. Maybe she knew who he was. Thoughts about the opposite sex entered his head these days. He would get distracted in class gawping at girls whilst they were concentrating on the lesson. On the odd occasion they noticed him staring, he would quickly look away embarrassed.

He pondered previous classroom encounters. Ms Smith teaching up at the front, gesticulating about numbers or something. Gazing at Harper Mackenzie’s pretty face; her soft features, her blonde hair. Adrift in a soundless void. Not being caught out by the subject of his affection. His name suddenly called out. A public rebuke for not paying attention. Busted.

It was a long walk, made longer by the suffocating weather. It would all be worth it when he got to the end. In the meantime, Billy stayed part-focused on the beatific surroundings whilst continuing to mull over recent events and what the day ahead might bring.

Time passed as he ploughed on.

Breaking the reverie, through the dank veil, finally he could see the outline of buildings; concrete boxes and rectangular shapes. Holes where there were once windows. Despite having had the foresight to have put on a slim, blue nylon zipper jacket and black waterproof trousers to shield him from the seeping damp, his clothes felt damp, moisture absorbed like a form of osmosis.

In the gloom, light could play tricks. Shadows would form giving the impression of not being alone. Billy craved solitude, gorging on it when it was available. Maybe it was something to do with him being an only child. Not having brothers or sisters meant getting used to your own company. He didn’t mind that. Although the girl had changed things.

The Fort was a collection of abandoned buildings, rooms with masonry walls that had housed fighting men and women. Places full of nooks and crannies, hidey holes that would enable evading capture for considerable time if needed. Not that there was anyone else pursuing him this morning.

An amble past through to the other side took Billy to a spit that jutted out to sea. Waves lapped, foam pushed upwards like geysers on contact with the outcrop. From this point, the nearest island would look closer than it actually was, a few miles away across the estuary.

The sound of a pebble rolling downhill made him turn, a sudden feeling that someone else was present. In the haze, he couldn’t see much but a sensation was unexpectedly nagging at him. Brackish water slopped against flat black rocks, fanned out forming an uneven border. A separate narrow promontory was raised higher and cut off by a channel filled with choppy sea.

Billy thought he spied something. An outline. He stared harder. The sight was wraithlike, a latent silhouette sewn into flimsy film. Its features were barely evident but there they were. It was a boy sitting on the outer ridge. Peering more closely, features emerged: a flat cap on a head, a v-neck woollen jumper and short knee-length trousers. He was staring out to sea, no colour visible, only a penetrating grey running from head to toe.  

“Hey, you there. HEEEYYYYY!!!” Billy shouted.

There was no reaction. It was hard to know whether the call was heard. Fierce winds would often steal syntax from mouths. Getting to the figure would mean clambering across deceptively slimy rocks. It felt like fate was teasing him. He was compelled to investigate more.

Reality and illusion - imposters in equal measure. There had been instances of seeing shadowy figures before; translucent people who flitted in and out of Billy’s consciousness. They would appear at random; whilst he was eating at a dinner table, when sitting in class, whilst talking to a friend. The encounter never lasted for long and the meaning of it was rarely clear. Maybe he was psychic or something. He didn’t speak about the incidents – they were his clandestine secret. He had wanted to mention in to his mum many times but was never sure if it was real or simply his mind playing tricks.

As he moved forward, a girl’s voice piped up from behind.

“Hello again. I thought it was you.”

Familiar tones, recently heard.

Image free to use via WikiCommons at: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b2/Brean_Down_-_Brean_D...