Bea's Witch by Daniel Ingram-Brown

Author:Daniel Ingram-Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: John Hunt Publishing
Published: 2021-05-07T00:00:00+00:00

The path ahead is dark, lined with ancient trees. Their long, silver trunks reach into the twilight, creating a tunnel ahead; their branches sway above, beckoning, dark against the stormy sky. The shadows on the path shift.

High above, an owl gives a long, clear call and the forest stirs in reply.

I flinch, spinning round. There’s a face in the trees. It’s ghostly pale.

It’s okay. Calm down.

It’s just a statue of an angel carved from the trunk of a fallen tree.

I shiver and move on.

Beside me, at the bottom of a steep, rocky bank, the river rushes past. Its muddy brown water is high, streaked with trails of foam, churned up by the current. I watch a large branch wash past, its twigs reaching from the water, as if calling for help. Above, the wind whistles through the branches.

Whheell…whelll…shoome…

It sounds like somebody whispering; a voice calling.

Just your imagination.

This isn’t the time for imagination. It’s time for cold, hard reason. Burn the stuff. Find a coin.

A little way along the path is a brick wall with a gate in it. I’m worried it might be locked, but as I reach it and tug the iron handle, it swings open, causing something to dart into the undergrowth. Slipping through, I begin down some stone steps that hug the bank, leading to a glade by the river. The bank encloses the glade, its limestone rock now visible: a cliff sheltering the quiet dell. A waterfall tumbles over the cliff, forming a pool – it’s the Petrifying Well. A wide, concrete pavement runs between the cliff and the river, creating an area for visitors to stop and take in the sight. As I creep towards it, I feel as though I’m being watched. The noise of the cars speeding along the little road by the entrance gate dampens, replaced by the water beating out a constant rhythm, as though to announce my arrival. Although the road is only a few hundred meters away, it feels as though I’m entering an entirely different world.

No one will disturb me here.

In the gloom, the pool looks like a grotto, the boulders surrounding it covered in moss. I can make out the strange shapes of the toys and trinkets hanging in the water, slowly being turned into stone. They look like a necklace from a strange ritual, dangling around the cliff’s neck. A little further along the path, past the well, at the far end of the dell, is the mouth of the cave – just a void in the twilight. I can feel it, even though I can’t see it properly, the ogre watching me, willing me to come closer, to step inside.

No!

I shut it out.

That’s not what you’re here for. Stay away!

To distract myself, I reach up and pull down one of the rock teddies. The wet string snaps easily. I stare at it for a moment. That’s how I feel – like I’m slowly being turned to stone.

I slip my backpack from my shoulder. Burn the stuff.

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