The Doll

by Elizabeth Andrews

  ‘No, don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘We can’t outrun this!’ She gestured to them to be quiet.

  ‘Come great one, rise from your...’

  ‘Stop!’ shouted Queenie desperately. ‘You cannot!’

  Margaret, with a triumphant smile, gestured to Dorcas who reluctantly let her arms fall to her side. ‘So you rethink your decision, crone?’ she asked.

  ‘She is afeared of Abaddon,’ Dorcas crowed with delight and capered around Margaret.

  ‘Fool!’ Margaret snapped. ‘Be still.’

  ‘But he will come,’ she laughed and looked proudly at Queenie. ‘And it is I who will have summoned him!’

  ‘Be silent!’ Margaret shouted and thrust her to one side.

  Dorcas fell to her knees in the mud and stared up at her in confusion. ‘But I do as you asked,’ she muttered then scowled at Queenie. ‘What look is that?’ she sneered. ‘You pity this old fool?’

  ‘Yes,’ Queenie said sadly. ‘I do,’ and stared over her head at Margaret. ‘How could you do this to her, she doesn’t know what she is doing,’ she protested.

  ‘She does my bidding, not yours.’

  ‘How cruel you are,’ replied Queenie.

  Margaret sneered and hauled Dorcas to her feet. ‘Cruel? I aided her when no one else would. Look at this pitiful creature, she was beaten, starved, plagued by the church and you say I am cruel. I gave her power!’

  ‘You have given her nothing but an eternity of misery,’ stated Queenie.

  She strode forward dragging Dorcas by the arm behind her. ‘And I will give her more,’ she growled. ‘And your friends also.’ She thrust the woman forward and she sprawled in the mud at Queenie’s feet. ‘If you wish to help this miserable idiot and save yourself, you will do as I command!’

  Agnes moved to stand by Margaret’s side. ‘You will all die if you do not,’ she said. ‘Help us, release us from this prison.’ She looked hopefully at the old woman. ‘You cannot wish for a sister witch to suffer in this way.’

  ‘I don’t want anybody to suffer,’ Queenie responded and soberly surveyed the three witches eagerly waiting for her decision. ‘I will ensure that you will no longer be trapped,’ she promised slowly then held up a hand as Paul quickly interrupted.

  ‘No, you can’t do it!’ he exclaimed in horror.

  ‘I will,’ she continued, ‘but my friends must go free.’

  They looked quickly at each other then Margaret smiled cynically. ‘But if we release them we will have no guarantee that you would fulfil your promise.’

  ‘My word,’ said Queenie firmly, ‘that I will help to stop your suffering.’ She looked at them quizzically. ‘Isn’t that good enough?’

  ‘They stay!’ stated Agnes and scowled at Queenie’s friends who were standing close by her side.

  ‘Good,’ said Paul bluntly, ‘because I have no intention of leaving Queenie here with you three evil hags!’

  ‘Neither do I,’ declared Archie.

  ‘Thank you,’ Queenie said briskly, ‘but I would rather you left, however I can see that is not going to happen.’ She turned her back on the witches and motioned her friends nearer. ‘I can deal with this but whatever happens keep Eva safe within the circle,’ she whispered.

  Archie clumsily grasped her arm and gave it a squeeze. ‘Please be careful,’ he entreated.

  ‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Paul, if anything goes wrong...well you know, it’s up to you.’

  He nodded wordlessly. She slowly undid her duffle coat and slipped it off then wrapped it around the little girl. ‘Here Eva, this will keep you warm while I deal with these old harridans,’ she said quietly. Queenie drew a deep breath and stepped from the safety of the protective circle with the doll tucked beneath her arm. ‘So ladies,’ she said conversationally. ‘Shall we get started?’

  A broad grin swept over Dorcas’s face and she bounded towards Queenie.

  ‘Give me the doll,’ she shrieked.

  ‘No,’ said Queenie, pushing her away. ‘I’ll hold on to it.’

  A knife had appeared in Margaret’s hand, its edge bright and keen. ‘We need the child,’ she said ominously, staring at Eva safe within the circle. A suspicious look momentarily appeared her face and she held back as Agnes moved to join Dorcas and Queenie in the middle of the circle of stones.

  ‘There is a much better way to releases you from the poppet,’ suggested Queenie.

  ‘Indeed?’ said Margaret doubtfully. ‘It is not a way that I know.’

  ‘Well, it is a ritual that I have used many times,’ Queenie responded coolly, ‘and it doesn’t involve human sacrifice.’

  Behind her she heard the horrified gasp from Paul and she turned to give him a warning look.

  ‘You have done this before?’

  ‘Of course. Haven’t you?’ Queenie asked patronisingly.

  ‘No.’ She stared at her suspiciously. ‘But we have your word that you will release us?’ she persisted. ‘Because if you don’t then all will die and we will sacrifice the child ourselves.’

  ‘My word,’ said Queenie, ‘that I will release you and end your suffering, which will not involve spilling any of this innocent child’s blood.’ She stared at her. ‘That’s what you wanted, to be free, wasn’t it?’

  She nodded and slowly paced forward to join her two coven members then stopped in surprise as Queenie began searching through the capacious pockets of her cardigan.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded, looking at the old woman in distrust.

  A lit cigarette had appeared and was dangling from Queenies hand. ‘I’m just going to have a quick smoke to help calm my nerves,’ she explained and held out the packet. ‘Would you like one?’

  Dorcas leant forward and sniffed cautiously at the strong tobacco.

  ‘Dorcas?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said eagerly. ‘I would try one.’

  ‘No you will not!’ rasped Margaret. ‘Crone, you are wasting time.’

  Queenie blinked through the rising cigarette smoke. ‘I must say that I do object to being called a crone,’ she said calmly, ‘especially as you are way older than I am.’

  ‘Enough! Give me the poppet!’ Margaret ordered angrily. ‘And let us begin!’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ muttered Queenie and casually tossed the wooden doll onto the top of the nearest stone. She leant over and critically adjusted the position of its arms and legs then stepped back to survey the effect. ‘Well,’ she said finally, ‘it’s time to begin.’

  ‘Good,’ said Margaret and hurried forward to take her place between Dorcas and Agnes. The expression of triumph and malice on their faces made Paul shiver in fear.

  ‘However, I would like to say a few words,’ said Queenie quickly, ignoring the sudden frustration on their faces. ‘Firstly I would like to say how sorry I am that your lives were so terrible, that you were persecuted by people who should have known better but,’ she paused, a grim light in her eye,

  ‘that does not mean that I will allow you to continue your evil ways.’

  ‘She tricks us!’ Agnes declared shrilly.

  ‘You gave us your word!’ protested Margaret, rushing forward but she did not reach the poppet before Queenie had liberally doused the wooden doll with lighter fuel from the can she had pulled from her pocket.

  ‘Stop!’ ordered Queenie, holding up her old lighter.

  ‘Or what?’ she sneered.

  ‘I am doing as you wished,’ declared Queenie, ‘I’m going to set you free. But not in this world!’ She clicked the lighter and tossed it onto the poppet. There was a woomph and flames shot up from the spilled liquid, engulfing the wooden doll. The centuries old dry wood caught instantly and it began to crackle and burn.

  ‘No!’ said Margaret in disbelief. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘I’m releasing you,’ said Queenie and scooped up a handful of the dirt and a black feather that had drifted down from the branches overhead. ‘I harness the power of the light so that all the evil of the night will
fade before its might. Grant me the power of the earth and the power of the crow that flies overhead to diminish the evil that resides within.’ With that she threw the handful of dirt and the feather onto the burning doll. ‘The light of all goodness surrounds us, it enfolds us and is always with us, blessed be.’ She raised her gaze from the burning doll and stared across at the three women. ‘You are no longer bound by this doll,’ she stated. ‘And your power is no more, it is gone.’

  ‘You fool,’ screamed Margaret as Dorcas and Agnes began to wail by her side. ‘You think it will be that easy?’

  ‘Look at your friends.’

  Dorcas had sunk to her knees in the mud and was staring at her filthy hands. Blue flames were licking around her fingers and smoke was appearing from the depths of her dirty rags. She raised her head and looked up at Margaret. ‘But she gave her word,’ she said in confusion.

  ‘I did Dorcas,’ Queenie replied regretfully. ‘I promised to end your suffering. You will be free from her tyranny.’

  Dorcas gazed in dismay at the elderly woman as the smoke began to billow around her body. ‘You burn me,’ she screamed.

  ‘I’m sorry but it’s the only way.

  Her cries faded away as the fire rapidly flared up and engulfed her, her body just visible through the thick haze. The flames exploded upwards high above the stone circle as she quickly disintegrated in the heat until all that was left was a pile of ash.

  On the other side of the circle Agnes began to wail as the flames and smoke began to curl around her legs. ‘I will not go!’

  ‘It’s time’ declared Queenie. ‘All things must diminish, even a witch.’ She watched grimly as the flames overwhelmed her and Agnes too was slowly reduced to ash.

  ‘You think you can get rid of me like this?’ asked Margaret with cold fury. Tendrils of smoke had begun to creep from beneath her skirt and her face winced in pain as she staggered towards Queenie. She grasped Queenie by the throat and thrust her face close. ‘Do you?’ she screamed.

  ‘Yes,’ choked Queenie.

  ‘Then you are mistaken, you old fool,’ she sneered and threw her to one side. Queenie crashed into the side of one of the sandstone monoliths and lay there bloody and dazed. ‘If I go then you will accompany me!’ Margaret said as she sank to her knees and thrust her smouldering hands into the cooling mud. ‘I will have my revenge!’ She raised her head and howled towards the dark sky, ‘I command the forces of darkness to come forth. I summon thee to this realm of mortals. Take these mortals, Ruler of the Underworld, open wide the gates of hell...’

  Paul looked around terrified as the birds overhead suddenly exploded upwards from the branches as the stones themselves began to shake, the ground buckling and lurching beneath their feet.

  ‘Stop!’ he shouted and stepped without thinking, still holding his daughter, from the protective circle and hurried towards the kneeling woman. ‘Enough, Margaret Jones!’

  ‘So Priest, you use my given name. Do you think that will stop me?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said desperately.

  ‘Not so,’ she said. ‘It will take more than that to put an end to me! Perhaps instead you would like to test your faith against the dark powers?’ she sneered, gasping for breath.

  ‘I have no doubts about my faith,’ replied Paul, ‘neither I am sure, did your father, Reverend Mathew Jones.’

  ‘Be silent, you will not speak of my father!’ she screamed.

  ‘But what would he think, Margaret, to see his own flesh and blood fallen so far from grace? Or did you hate him because he rejected you?’

  ‘He did not!’ she protested weakly. ‘My father was the best of men.’

  ‘Then why did he turn his back on you when you needed him most?’ continued Paul pitilessly, as blue flames flickered over her body.

  ‘He did not,’ she shouted. ‘He did everything he could to help me, he tried to get justice but we were driven from the school in disgrace and I had to watch him die of shame,’ she gritted her teeth as the flames licked across her face. ‘Nobody would help us so I swore then and there that I would have my revenge on them and the whole town if need be.’

  ‘I’m sorry, it was wrong of them, but that was a different time. What you are trying to do is wrong.’

  ‘Not wrong,’ she panted. ‘I will kill them all.’

  Eva dug her fingers into her father’s neck and whimpered as the flames crackled over the woman and he put a hand over her face trying to shield her from the awful sight.

  To the side Queenie, still lying in the mud, moaned and clutched at her bruised and bleeding head.

  Archie jumped from the safety of the circle and scurried over to the fallen woman. He clasped his arms around her and looked furiously at the witch.

  ‘How many more people do you have to destroy before you are satisfied?’ he shouted.

  She choked with sudden laughter. ‘All,’ she said flatly. ‘Give me the child. You have other daughters. I need her to regain my power,’ she growled at Paul. ‘All I want is her pure little heart. Place it in my hand and I will give you the world if you do as I ask!’

  ‘Never, you monster,’ he replied, looking at her in disgust.

  ‘Daddy,’ snuffled Eva in his arms. ‘I want mummy.’

  ‘It’s okay sweetie, I’ll get you home.’ He stepped back from the burning woman and swung round suspiciously as Patricia moved closer.

  ‘Let me take her Paul,’ she said and held out her arms. ‘I’ll look after her.’

  His daughter’s arms clung to his neck as he hesitated and she whimpered softly.

  ‘No daddy,’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s okay Eva,’ she murmured and tried to pull her away from Paul.

  He stared into her white blank face and tightened his grip. ‘No Patricia,’ he said firmly. ‘Eva stays with me.’

  She stepped back looking hurt and he immediately felt guilty until Patricia lunged forward trying to snatch his daughter from his arms.

  ‘Kill the child! Take her heart!’ Margaret suddenly screamed at her. ‘Do this and I will give you everything you desire!’

  ‘No,’ he shouted and thrust the woman away. She fell backwards into the mud and lay there whimpering as he stood over her accusingly. ‘Patricia! How could you!’

  Margaret half lay in the mud and shrieked with laughter even as she burnt. ‘The woman is mine, you fool!’

  ‘No,’ she whimpered and struggled to her feet, with a despairing look at Paul she began to stumble around the circle trying to find a way through the curtain of mist that surrounded the stones.

  ‘Patricia, come back!’

  Margaret’s mad laughter followed the hysterical woman as she blindly wandered through the mist trying to find the gate.

  Paul stared in disgust at the witch then held out his daughter to Archie.

  ‘Look after her while I deal with this evil creature.’

  Her mad eyes glared at the old man as he took Eva from her father’s arms and led her away from the gruesome sight.

  ‘Her heart is all I required!’ she spat.

  ‘So you would destroy my daughter as you tried to destroy yours?’ Paul knelt before the burning woman. ‘Margaret, can’t you see? You drove your own daughter away because of this thirst for revenge.’

  ‘I have no daughter.’

  ‘Yes you do. Hepzibah.’ She flinched at the name and scowled. ‘You made her choose, didn’t you? Between the man she loved and you, her mother.’

  ‘She chose that monster,’ she howled, trying to push Paul away.

  ‘Nicholas Spicer,’ stated Paul. ‘So you attempted to put that awful curse on him and that’s why Hepzibah turned her back on you and the coven because you didn’t tell her who the intended victim was.’

  ‘No,’ she spat, watching him from behind the burning curtain of her hair. ‘I lied to her; I told her it was the minister.’

  ‘And when she found out she left.’

  ‘Yes, she turned her back on me, so now I disown her. I have n
o daughter,’ she shouted, struggling to rise.

  ‘But you were her mother and somehow she still loved you.’

  She shook her head dismissively then stared in horror at her hands as they burst into flames.

  ‘But she did,’ persisted Paul. ‘She named her first child, Margaret, after you.’

  ‘She did?’

  ‘Even after all you did, because you were her mother,’ he continued. ‘They started a new life together but that didn’t mean that she forgot you. You could have been a part of that,’ he added despairingly. ‘You could have watched your grandchild grow.’

  By now Margaret’s body was being consumed by the fire and he had to retreat from the fury of the flames as they rose higher and higher.

  He sat back holding a hand over his face as the smoke billowed up and the flames crackled around her head.

  ‘It’s too late,’ she wheezed.

  ‘No, I will pray that you will meet them in the afterlife. Just leave all your hatred behind, Margaret.’

  ‘I am a witch,’ she half laughed. ‘I have no place there.’

  ‘All are welcome, just ask for forgiveness,’ he urged. ‘You will see them again.’

  Margaret closed her eyes.

  ‘Never,’ she managed to gasp before the flames engulfed her completely, crackling upwards in a huge spout of fire and smoke. Fissures of burning red opened in her blackening skin and as she opened her mouth for one last scream a shower of sparks burst out of her mouth and flew upwards through the branches of the trees, up into the clear sky. Her blackened head slumped forward and her charred body slowly sank into a kneeling position, there her remains stayed until it slowly crumbled to dust and Margaret Jones was no more.

  A small flickering flame danced briefly on the pile of ash until that too dwindled and disappeared. The faint haze of smoke hung over the clearing until a strong breeze swept through the circle of stone, dispersing it and the wall of mist.

  Paul rocked back on his heels and stared blankly at all that remained of Margaret; a feeling of sadness engulfed him for a while until he raised his eyes and looked across at his daughter. She was staring at the ashes blank faced, tightly gripping the orange duffle around her shivering body.