Prophesy: The Immortal Witch (7)

Part 6 at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/prophesy-immortal-witch-6

 

Billy watched snake-eyed as a shape ghosted through the fog. Appearing from veiled shadows, it was the unnamed girl from the incident with the Mills brothers.

“What are you doing here?”

The question was asked with a mixture of concealed delight at seeing her once more and indignation as to what someone else was doing out on a grimy morning intended only for him.

“Oh hello again. I thought I recognised you.”

Danielle padded her coat down, wiping moisture away with two hands as she approached.

“I come up here on my own sometimes. It’s better when it’s like this.”  She added, her face beamed, alive with excitement.

“Well….yes. Not sure why anyone would come here when it’s so….”

Billy felt awkward as the mumbled sentence trailed away. Yesterday had seemed instinctive. Having seen trouble brewing, he hadn’t had time to think about his actions. This was different. His heart beat faster as the realisation dawned that he was actually alone with a girl. His mind raced as he thought of something sensible to say.

 “…can you……erm…..see anything out there?”

As soon as the words had tripped from his mouth he regretted them. The last thing he should be talking to someone new about was supernatural encounters. It was too late, he would have to improvise.

Danielle held a flattened palm to her forehead and looked out across the mist-bound water following Billy’s eyes for direction.

“Oh…I really don’t think I can. What am I supposed to see? I see the sea if that’s what you mean. And rocks.”

They both stared in synchronicity, one able to see a spectre, the other merely a blanketed seascape.

“Ah don’t worry. Seeing as you are here, fancy a scramble over there? It’ll be a laugh.” He pointed seaward.

Billy wondered whether she might be able to see the mysterious figure if they got closer. It was a long shot and unlikely; he had yet to meet anyone else with similar abilities. There was a time when his uniqueness felt very special. Now it was more of a burden for the most part.

Danielle pondered the sense in doing something potentially dangerous. A large wave could sweep them away and into the water where they would be open to the whims of rip tides and undercurrents.

“Isn’t that a bit dodgy? Those rocks look slippy.”

For a few seconds nothing was said, a vacuum to be filled before things got more uncomfortable.

Eventually, despite her reservations, Danielle uttered a reluctant:

“Oh go on then. But I’m going back if it’s too difficult.”

She hardly knew the boy but, maybe, it was a day to be adventurous; a day to supress her usual caution. She told herself that she really would turn back at the slightest hint of a problem. The image of her mother wagging a finger and berating her actions was firmly tethered to a nagging subconscious.

They scurried across, crab-legged, slipping at times, righting themselves with untidy endeavour. The phantom remained elusive, incorporeal; it looked no more solid that when seen at first glance, Billy’s gaze was watchful, desperate to keep it in sight, but having to glance away with closer proximity due to the slippery surface.

“So what’s your name?”

Billy blurted the request out knowing it had been on his mind ever since the encounter on the sand. It also bought him time to consider what to do next.

“Danielle. What’s yours?” Spume lashed nearby spat from roiling waves.

“Billy. Billy Tudor.”

“You’re not from round here are you?”

Waiting for a reply, he could see that the elusive spectre of the boy was at the very end of the promontory, still looking out at a cloaked horizon.

Up until now, he hadn’t given a thought to not being a local. With the challenge made, there was a sudden feeling of embarrassment at his accent.

“Why?”

The young girl looked confused for a moment before Billy grinned and added:

“Yeah…alriiiight. I’m from Biiiirmingham.”

Stressing vowels in nasal, colloquial Brummie, the sentence made her laugh. They exchanged coy glances.

They had reached the part of the archipelago where it split in two, separated by a channel of water. A good leap would traverse the gap of about six feet or so. Danielle looked at the trench nervously.

“Wanna go on? I’ll help you.”

Billy sensed the girl’s reticence. He was caught in two minds whether to keep going himself. Perhaps he should let any encounter with ghostly figures slide this time.

“Go on then. It doesn’t look so bad.”

Danielle was driven by an unexpected bravery. She really had no idea where this new found bravado had come from.

Billy stood up gingerly and took a few steps back making sure that his footing was as firm as possible. Taking a deep breath, he puffed out his chest and strode towards the channel. Mid-air, for a second he found himself convinced he was going to come up short and look a fool as he crumbled into the briny. Thankfully, his front foot landed on the other side as he tumbled to the ground in relief.

“Triple Jump Champion, Perry Barr Olympics last year.”

He declared righting himself to face Danielle. She returned a smile already regretting her misplaced confidence. With a grimace, she copied Billy’s actions. Leaping, she reached out as an outstretched arm grabbed her hand.  Both crumpled in a heap, now laughing out loud at defying gravity.

“Come on then. We may as well get to the end as we’re here.”

Billy’s thoughts turned to the boy again. Rising, they stalked across the wet rocks, the fog starting to lift revealing the waters of the Bristol Channel reaching out into the distance. As they neared the spectral figure, something strange was happening. With Danielle still oblivious, the mysterious apparition started to dissipate. The very atoms that made up his arms, legs, torso and head were drifting away on the wind like desert sand being lifted by a zephyr.

Billy watched on as the substance that had made the boy corporeal wafted away over the water and into the horizon. Of all the incidents that had happened before, there had been nothing like this. Meanwhile, the view was becoming clearer, the fog lifting.

The sky was darkening, black clouds gathering like germs under a microscope. He knew that weather conditions on the coast could change in the blink of an eye. Storms could do terrible things. Far away a streak of lightning zagged across the estuary ominously followed by the rumble of thunder.

He felt uneasy and decided it was time to turn back.

“MIGHT BE TIME TO RETURN TO DRY LAND.”

Billy shouted over the sound of crashing waves. Greeted with a curt nod in reply, the youngsters carefully spun around and started walking, hunched over to mitigate the wind.

Scampering back to the point of having to ford the channel once more, they both heard a roaring noise. If he had continued to track the dissemination of the ghostly figure, Billy would have witnessed it transmuting into a tumultuous weather phenomenon. Spiralling upwards into pregnant cumulonimbus, what once formed an apparition was now a spinning, raging column of water - a destructive waterspout and it was hurtling towards shore accompanied by hail stones and chaos.

Billy looked up, waves now stirred into a seething force, high winds rushing all around. It all seemed to have happened so quickly. He was genuinely scared. It would be harder traversing the gap in these conditions.

Before he could think further, amongst a torrent of sound, a tornadic spout ripped across the rocks, sweeping both children away in its wake, the force like a sledge hammer careering into their sides.

Time inside the funnel seemed to stop. It was surreal, almost peaceful within the eye of the storm. Reality seemed to be suspended with only wispy mist visible. Billy wondered whether this was what being dead was like. He found himself contemplating what he thought of as the Great Beyond. For a child of his age it was a mature theme but shaped by the strange situations he continually found himself in.

It was hard to know how long he had spent suspended, seemingly outside of reality but any meandering subliminal thoughts were brought to an unceremonious halt by the sensation of falling. Billy was dumped into waist-high shallow water below. Sand and silt cushioned the fall, a foetal position adopted as he held his breath. The energy driving the waterspout had ebbed away, the phenomenon gone as quickly as it had arrived.

Grappling for his bearings, he remembered that he wasn’t alone.

Rising above the water, he scanned around, desperately searching for Danielle. There she was, spitting salty water out, half choking some twelve feet away. Rushing towards her, he pulled her upwards, patting her on the back to fetch the swallowed saline out of her lungs.

Billy looked back hoping to unpick the scenario they both now found themselves in; stranded in a strange place. He couldn’t help feeling annoyed that his curiosity had got the better of him yet again. Only this time, he had dragged another into his bizarre alternative existence. To the rear was ocean stretching out to the horizon. There was absolutely no trace of the rocks or Fort or Brean Down. He had no idea where they had been transported to.

Turning around, he found himself thinking that this was all very Robinson Crusoe. Empty beach stretched out before them with a forest of ash and oak trees behind. About a hundred feet to their left was a wooden jetty with a rowboat attached by rope. Thoughts streamed through Billy’s mind: What if there were cannibals crouching in the undergrowth waiting to drag them off to a waiting pot? His overactive imagination fired by the prospect of a deserted isle.

Having regained her composure, Danielle wondered whether they had been taken to either Flat Holm or Steep Holm. Billy and Danielle drew breath, taking stock of new surroundings.

“So what now?

Danielle’s mum reappeared in her mind’s eye, a cross expression written large across an angry face.

“I think there’s no harm in having a look round.”  

Billy realised that they had no other option.

Splashing through marine gloop, they waded onto waiting sand.

In front was a sprawling mass of trees. Other than traversing around the edge of the island, the only other alternative was to head straight into the forest and see where it took them. Billy couldn’t help but notice the lack of sounds. There should be noises from birds calling or animals ferreting about. Instead…nothing but silence.

 

Image free to use via WikiCommons at: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Waterspout_near_Cap_de_Formentor...