Bewitched

by Kaila Patterson

  Regathering herself, she ferociously rubbed at her eyes as they burned. Her ears rung like she was beneath the town belltower. Thundering and crashing waves hitting her eardrums.

  The screaming was her mother’s voice. It was the sound she could not hear in the memory. Her mother had been yelling and breaking her own voice, just to be near her.

  Elizabeth. That was the name echoing in her ears.

  Her ghostly legs ached for her to stand. She pressed her hands to the floor, lifting herself painfully to her feet.

  Dawn’s blackberry eyes were studying her, its beak pointed sharply in her direction. No words came from her mouth, instead remaining clogged in her throat, unable to speak.

  “I-I…” She stuttered, trying to speak. Her entire body shivered, standing in the freezing, shadowed tower room.

  Taking a recovered breath, she stood straight. She needed to stop herself shaking, from causing her muscles to go painfully tense. Eliza recuperated, staring into the distance.

  The castle stood outside the tower, and she found herself walking towards it. Her feet crept across the room, and she cautiously reached the window, clutching the bars.

  One of the highest windows, and the largest, was The King’s. Her eyes shadowed over, turning dark.

  The harshest truth of them all hit her in that second.

  Richard, the so-called monarch, had arrested his own sister with his guards. Eliza remembered what her mother’s letter had said. He would never have killed her himself; he would have his guards do it for him.

  It became hurtfully obvious; her mother was never executed. Her own brother had her murdered in cold blood.

  He killed her mother.

  The King, who was trying to kill her, had killed her mother.

  Ruelle claimed he would not have; Eliza begged to differ.

  Then, another repulsive truth came. If he was the brother of her mother, that came with another harsh realisation, that she had not noticed. He was her uncle, and she, his niece.

  They were related, and he knew that while arresting her, while planning to have her executed.

  ‘Then, why would he want to kill me?’.

  The darkness filling her eyes was replaced, but not by light. She slowly felt her blood boiling, pure anger filling her veins.

  He killed her mother. He was the one responsible. He was the reason she never truly had a family.

  He took that from her.

  All Eliza could see was red. The castle ahead of her, the windows, the broad sky. It all turned a faint red, and rage boiled inside her, ready to burst.

  There were many things she needed to mentally unpack, to comprehend and consider. Yet, she decided it could wait, it was unimportant.

  Rage blinded her; shock could wait.

  Slamming her fist against the glass, Eliza shot around on her heel and stormed to the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, bloodshot eyes, and a flushed face.

  When she looked in the mirror, she could no longer see herself. Her dark eyes, her ghostly-shallow face, her raven hair. It was not her own, yet it was.

  The idea she was related to him sickened her; it brought a churning in her stomach. Staring at her own reflection, her features became more evident.

  All she could see was him, his shadowed, fiery eyes identical to her own.

  Fire burned in her eyes, emphasising the red. Eliza’s vision was already blurred, but all she could see was the blazing redness, and a reflection that was not her own, except it was.

  She could not explain, or start to know, what was happening. Subconsciously, she knew it was her reflection, that she was standing there.

  The rage, the hurt, the fight in her heart. That said otherwise. Eliza was out for blood, exactly like before. Except worse, far, far worse.

  Her blurred vision darted at the mirror. A figure formed behind her, a ghostlike shadow.

  Richard stood over her reflection, in a shadowy mist. The shadow would not fade.

  He stood there, dressed in fine robes, and a golden crown. The crown he never deserved.

  ‘It’s not real, he’s not real.’.

  Her breaths hitched, as she desperately tried to shake herself awake. It was a hallucination, a sick nightmare.

  Staring in that mirror, it was undeniable. Their sharp smirks, blazing eyes, shadowed features. She was his blood, his relation.

  “I’ll never be like you!” Eliza screamed. Crying herself into a frenzy, her hand swung out before she could stop. Her fist flew, striking the smirking figure, the reflection.

  Her fist smashed against the glass, and it shattered with a crash. Pieces of mirror scattered across the floor, and blood started to ooze from her knuckles.

  Eliza pulled her bloody fist to her chest, clutching it in her spare hand. Only half of the mirror remained, cracked, and sprinkled with shards of glass.

  She could not believe what she had done, she did not want to.

  The broken part of the mirror revealed wood, that her fist had cracked against. Her reflection was now distorted, in what was left of the mirror.

  Her eyes fell to the pieces of broken glass, eyes wide and aware. For that split-moment, things became brighter.

  ‘Nothing’s bright anymore, Eliza,’ A voice said. ‘These are the end times, for you.’.

  She could not get off-track; she knew what she was doing.

  ‘Think, Elizabeth.’ Her mind said, ‘Think of what HE did, to all of us.’.

  Dawn shifted. Its beak was pecking at the window bars, eating bits of dust. Massaging her crimson-stained knuckles, she peered over.

  “Dawn?”.

  The raven seemed unfazed by her tantrum, like it had not happened. It took her a moment to be sure it did, that she had not gone mad.

  Dawn nipped at the bars. Suddenly, the window cracked.

  Eliza crept over, instinctively reaching for the windowpane. The second she did, it cracked again, and flung open.

  She gasped, watching the window fly wide. A gust of wind hit her, refreshing and forceful.

  ‘It’s open.’ She thought, turning to Dawn. That was when she realised. ‘It was always broken. Dawn broke it.’.

  She thought back on when she and Lucie stood in the tower, and Dawn came crashing through the window.

  It opened then, and one of them had eventually shut it, but why did she never remember it could be opened?

  Her eyes studied her bird, nodding to the window and back. Eliza understood then, and a plan came into mind. Except, this time, it was not a plan without a plan.

  This was her plan, and it was one that would work.

  Her eyes turned to the castle, darkening once more. Her mind decided what she would do, and there was no turning back. She stared to her feet, watching the satchel on the floor. That faint redness came back to her.

  Eliza knew what she was going to do, it was set in stone.

  Bending down, she gripped the satchel. Rummaging inside, her palm felt the item for which she searched.

  Dropping the bag, she clutched the blade in her free grip. The sharp knife glimmered ahead of her, and she returned to the mirror.

  Her stirred reflection stared back at her, and she gave one look from the knife to herself.

  Over those days in the tower, one thing she learned was that it was better to do without thinking first.

  That was something she would have frowned upon a year back, but much had changed in a year.

  Eliza raised a strand of her waved, greased hair between her fingers. She stretched it out, feeling the pressure in her roots. Shutting her eyes, she steadied the blade in the air.

  Snip.

  A strand of hair floated to the floor, her hair. She let go of the lock, now only falling to her chin, instead of her waist.

  She took no joy in cutting her hair, but it would help the anonymity. The main reason: she no longer wanted hair at all.

  Nothing that resembled her to him was worth having, and her hair was one of those. Taking a larger clump of hair, she raised
the blade higher.

  Crunch.

  Then, she could see her own ears, sitting out of her short hair. She squinted her eyes, avoiding looking at herself at all until it was done.

  Snap.

  Another clump of mahogany hair to the floor. Her eyes darted up to the mirror, half her hair almost cut off. Redness flowed through her, and rage boiled within her.

  This was his fault, all of it.

  Everything and evermore, it was all his fault. She hated him for that.

  Snip.

  “I tried, didn’t I?” She whimpered, tears of frustration brimming her eyes. Strand after strand was gripped and cut, falling to the floor without a sound. “I obeyed their idealistic rules, didn’t I?”.

  Her hair was uneven and messed, but that could not be helped.

  “Yes, I was reckless, but wasn’t I a good person?”

  Titch.

  “Did I ever deserve this?”.

  Hair, deserted and curled, circled around her bare feet. Tears of rage, hurt, and all in between ran down her face. She studied herself in the mirror; she could not recognise herself.

  Crack.

  Staring herself down, she knew she looked pathetic. Her throat gulped and pleaded, and her face was blistered, puffy and swollen.

  Then, studying herself, the pitiful feeling started to embarrass her. Her heart ached and pounded in her chest, and she scowled at her own reflection.

  “Well, so be it.” Eliza growled, her features turning still and cold, “If they want me to be a witch, a curse on society, I will be. I will be their ideal tragedy, the lost cause. The only me they will ever care about is the me they hate. Trying to be good is useless, because it isn’t in their agenda.”.

  Crunch.

  That stricken realisation hit her with a thump. Those words had spilled out without her realising. Yet, every word was true.

  She tore on her final strand of hair, studying it, before slicing it in half. Her blood-shot eyes flickered back to the mirror, as her hands reached for her head.

  Her hair was now at her long chin, blowing in the air. It was sticking out like electricity. Shakily, Eliza nodded to her reflection.

  “I’m a paradox to this society, someone that was born in the wrong time. Still, I know what I will do.” She whispered to her reflection, “I have my own task to complete, and so help me, I’m doing it myself, my way.”.

  Eliza turned from the mirror, knowing that if she stared at what she had done for long, the tears would flood again. She dropped the blade, and it hit the ground with a clunk.

  Walking over to Dawn, she nodded, brushing away the last tear she swore she would ever have. Her own clothes were in a heap on the floor, scattered amongst one another.

  She grabbed hold of the tacky nightgown, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the discarded hair strands.

  Eliza reached for the chestnut skirt on the floor, and stepping into it, pulled it on over her bare legs. It was easier than Lucie’s clothing, as she had tailored her own garments.

  Next, she reached for the white corset-blouse, lifting it to her chest and stretching her arms into the shoulder straps. Fastening it at the back, it remained suitably against her.

  Dusting herself down, she reached finally for her trusted navy hood. The shimmering pendant fastened it, and she was set.

  “Now, if anyone ever cares to know about Elizabeth Spinner, and what she ever dared accomplish in life,” She announced, to herself.

  Nodding to Dawn sadly, she lifted the satchel, stuffing the journal inside.

  Eliza braced her hips against the windowpane, staring at how far she had to go. It was a long distance to the ground; one she might never make.

  Perching Dawn onto her shoulder, Eliza stomped one foot onto the window bar, as wind blew her loose hairs away.

  “…Tell them I tried.”.

  17

  A Royal Wedding

  It was a long way down.

  Eliza looked to the pit of the tower. Grass breezed at the bottom, and the wind crashed against her skin. Her chopped hair blowed in the gust. There was no right way down.

  The ground beneath her swirled, and she felt sick to her stomach. One leg was thrown out of the tower, clinging to the windowpane. The other knelt inside, preventing her from falling out.

  There was no one in sight. No guards, maidens, or people. She never thought that it was a feast day, but then again, it could have been Christmas for all she knew.

  “This is insanity.”.

  If a strong breeze came, she could have been toppled from the window. An idea struck her.

  “Then again, what isn’t these days?”.

  Eliza swung her leg inside the tower. She ran to the bed and crouched down onto her knees.

  One strange object sat underneath, for unbeknownst purpose.

  A muscle stretched painfully in her back, as she thrust her hand underneath the bed. Feeling the bumpy, shrivelled feel of the item, she pulled it out from underneath.

  A chestnut rope scattered across the hidden floor. Eliza tugged, as it came out in connected lengths.

  “This’ll do the trick.”.

  Eliza hastily pulled the rope into her bundled arms, trailing it across the floor. She and Dawn exchanged a look.

  The rope barely extended from the window to the bed, too short for a who-knows-how-tall tower. Dawn made a squawking sound, fluttering away from the rope.

  “Shush,” Eliza scolded. “I can’t afford you making noise, not now!”.

  Dawn gave her a blunt look. One that judged her for scolding it, when she had been wailing her eyes out hours before.

  She heaved the rope out of the window, letting it hang in the wind. Eliza pressed her waist against the windowpane, leaning out.

  The rope made it halfway down, and there were only a few inches left. Carefully, she threw the last of it, gripping the end.

  The weight left rotten splinters on her hands, with a burning sensation. Eliza dragged the end of the rope over her shoulder, before tying it to a hook in the window.

  “Will it last? Un-likely.” Eliza cocked a humourless grin, flaying her arms in the air. “One life, right? What have I to lose, besides the obvious?”.

  Gripping the rope, she swung it around the hook. It curled against the metal, leaving only a loose strand.

  Dawn’s eyes stared into her soul, cocking its beak away from her. Running the rope among her fingers, Eliza kicked pressed one foot into the windowpane, gripping the frame.

  She pulled herself up, so that she was standing on the wooden bar. Eliza stood tall, arching her back, taking in the view of the castle.

  The wind brushed her face, causing her skirt to blow above her knees. That was one of thing she had been shamed for her entire life, flaunting her ankles.

  Once, she had purposely lifted her dress to her hips, dancing around just to make them scold her. That ended with her being dragged home by the ear, like most things did.

  Reminiscing on childhood memories was the one thing that brought her the closest-feeling-to joy.

  Shaken from her thoughts, Eliza pushed herself out as far as she could, her head dangling over the naked grass.

  She was higher than ever before, closest to the sky.

  “You should join me, Dawn.” Eliza said. “I am never returning here.”.

  Eliza awaited the raven’s flight, for when it would perch her shoulder.

  “Dawn, you cannot stay there forever,” Eliza sighed, “You’ll rot, and have to eat dust-bugs.”

  There was no answer. Dawn soared into a loop and swept past her shoulder. The raven began flew gracefully, beating its wings against the winds. The raven flew into her chest, before swooping again into the air.

  Dawn was ecstatic to be free, gliding across the horizon. Eliza watched, a weight sinking in her chest. Seeing her pet so free, happier than life, she realised how long it had been kept from the outdoors.

  Due to her, it had been locked away its entire life.

  Curling out
her finger, Eliza gestured for Dawn to come. The raven merrily swept through the air with a squeak, landing in the palm of her hand.

  Her heart ached in that moment, telling her not to do it. Yet, it was better for Dawn to have its freedom, to be happy.

  “If you want to go, you can.” Eliza spoke softly, letting go of the bird. “You deserve to be free.”.

  Dawn nuzzled into her hand. Its bristled hairs brushed against her skin, spending one, final moment.

  The raven began to flutter its wings, swooping into the sky once more. She could sense it was for good.

  “Stay safe in this wide world, you daft bird.” Eliza whispered. “Au revoir!”.

  In the blink of an eye, Dawn soared in the distance, headed for the sky. The bird rocketed towards the sky, doing cartwheels in the air. It turned into a black dot, then nothing more, disappearing into the world.

  Despite the looming sadness in her heart, Eliza felt a motherly pride. It was not a forever goodbye, only a temporary. Her trusted pet would return to her hand someday, all she had to do was hold it out.

  Eliza balanced on the windowpane, ready to start the climb. Her knees cracked as she bent, twisting her body to lay on her stomach.