The Warlocks Daughter

by R.J. Adams

The Warlocks Daughter

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorised, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  One

  Running through the woods I find myself being chased, chased by something I cannot see. I run until I can barely breathe, I need to stop I need to catch my breath, what is it that’s after me? Hiding behind a tree a take a peek around to see what is coming but I see nothing, just darkness. My heart is racing and my breathing is fast but shallow. It’s dark, too dark to see what is following me. The leaves rustle as the wind blows in the night air, the sounds of owls hooting echo through the trees and an eerie feeling drapes over me.

  I get up and run as fast as I can but now I feel like I’m going nowhere, I see fire light in the distance, I try to scream for help but no words come out. I cannot see where I’m going, it’s too dark to see that I feel something clip my foot and I fall onto the floor. I’m scared, terrified as I turn and see a huge black figure coming towards me, it reaches out to touch me and I scream.

  “Willow wake up,” something touches me, I feel like I am being shook, “Willow, wake up.” I jump and open my eyes, it’s still dark, why is it so dark? “You were having a nightmare,” the little voice whispers.

  I bring myself around and look, it’s dark because it’s night time, another nightmare, another night disturbing my sleep, “sorry Ruby, come on, let me put you back to bed.” I take her around to her own bed, walking in the dark she clutches on to her tatty torn teddy and climbs in, “you go back to sleep now okay,” I smile tucking her in.

  I always tend to wake her when I have a nightmare; she is always the one that comes to my bed to bring me out of my nightmare. She is such a sweet little girl, loving and full of life but stuck here, just like me.

  I stumble back to my bed and fall on the single mattress that has become hard and lumpy, not surprising, I haven’t had a new bed in forever, and I don’t remember when I last had anything new.

  I am the oldest girl still living at Doreen’s Orphanage for Girls. I have been here since as far back as I can remember; I don’t ever remember having a mother or a father, just always being here.

  Children have come and gone over the years but never me, no-one ever wanted me. I guess I am a little stranger than the others; I used to apparently speak to someone that was never there every night before I went to sleep, but then again all children have imaginary friends right? However much of that I don’t recall and plus I arrived with a strange burnt kind of tattoo on my palm, what type of person tattoos or burns a child? The same question they once asked me but I do not know where or how I got it, I don’t remember much of anything as a child.

  Sometimes I have dreams of a woman, she has long black hair and wears a dress as red as the colour blood but is surrounded by a lovely white light, she cradles me and sings to me but then she is gone. Then there are the nightmares, the nightmares I have had since I was child, it is always that I am being chased by something or someone, like as if I know that one day something is coming for me, I just wish I knew what it was.

  I look around the bedroom and the girls are asleep and Ruby has nodded back off, I snuggle back down into my bed, I feel so sleepy but I don’t want another nightmare, what does it matter, I must get some sleep. I pull the blanket up over my eyes and close my eyes; slowly I drift back off to sleep.

  “Come on girls, it’s time to get up,” a voice moans, “don’t be thinking you can lie in bed all day, everyone up and to the breakfast hall in five minutes,” the voice orders.

  I blink my eyes open; the little ones are up and in a hurry to get dressed. Their basic dresses hang on one rail in the room as they scramble to find one that fits them.

  “And you missy,” I feel a nudge, I roll over and see Doreen leaning over me with her goggle eyes, “don’t think you can lie in bed, breakfast hall, five minutes,” she rips the blanket off me and I feel a cold chill, it’s s cold in here. She dumps it at the end of my bed and leaves.

  “Willow,” a soft voice calls from behind me, I turn and see little Ruby, “I cannot do my dress up.”

  “Its okay, come here I’ll help you,” I turn her around and attempt to pull the zip up, it’s faulty and jammed but with a push I manage to get it to the top.

  Sounds horrible living here, bed’s that are uncomfortable, clothes the children have to scramble for and the ones they manage to find that do fit them are broken or ripped. I don’t blame Doreen; she doesn’t get much help to run the orphanage like she should. The fact is the money is tight, I’m old enough to know this but the little ones, I see their upset faces and I know they hate living here and who can blame them. It has changed so much, just left to rot in the grubby condition it is in, like no-one cares about us anymore.

  It’s cold and damp, the building is falling down practically and they barely have enough clothes to wear that fit them, I am much older and bigger and I sometimes borrow Doreen’s clothes, which isn’t always a comfortable thing to do but I have nothing else, I cannot grumble.

  I remember my youngest days here, it was warm and cosy and Doreen was so loving and attentive. Not being able to have children of her own she opened the orphanage and invited those in who had nowhere else to go, those whose parents didn’t want them or those who simply had no parents at all.

  I loved it here when I first came here, well from my earliest memory of here and it never used to bother me when new mums and dads would come and never picked me, I had Doreen and Henry to look after me.

  The burnt tattoo on my palm put potential parents off; I have no idea why, I guess maybe they thought I was a trouble maker or would grow to be one. But it didn’t matter. I had the orphanage and that was all I needed.

  But when Henry died suddenly, I assumed Doreen inherited his estate and his wealth which is what kept us going, but the money began to run out, well that’s how it seemed. I would have thought that charities were willing to help us but we get nothing, not even visitors anymore, everything has become strange, as if we are cut off from the world. I haven’t left the Orphanage either since Henry died, I went out once with him but then never again.

  Doreen has changed too, she doesn’t hug the children anymore, she doesn’t kiss them goodnight and seems to have become a cold heartless person. I understand things are tight and very difficult but she was so loving, I don’t understand why she stopped being that way with us, especially me. She became that way when Henry died, I always believed she had a broken heart but surely she shouldn’t stop being the wonderful person I remember?

  “Are you coming Willow?” Ruby mumbles with her thumb in her gob. She is extremely adorable.

  “Yes, I’ll be there now, you go ahead,” I smile and kiss her on the forehead. Ruby is like the little sister I always wanted or imagined having if I was to ever have a family. I never got attached to kids here, they used to come and go so frequently I never had chance to, although no-one has come to collect any children in a really long time, I remember not long after Henry died, some people did come but I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to leave Doreen, since
then no-one has come back, they have just left us here.

  But, Ruby and I became attached not long after she arrived here; I was so lonely I just wanted someone I could love like sister or someone who needed me, as the other children didn’t really bother much. With blonde curly hair and stunning brown eyes, she clung on to me the moment she arrived and I became attached to her. At five years old she sucks her thumb for comfort and carries around a torn up teddy that she arrived with. I have such a bond with her I have never formed with anyone else and from the scars on her back; it appears to me she didn’t have an easy start. It’s fuzzy to me when exactly she arrived, I just woke up one day and there she was but I’m glad she arrived otherwise I think my loneliness would have consumed me.

  I force myself out of bed and quickly run over to the broken wardrobe that has the basic clothes in my size here. Children range from two to ten, me being seventeen I am the oldest one here.

  I head to breakfast hall and the usual morning routine begins, all the girls run around screaming and playing whilst Doreen tries to control them. They all argue over what chair they want to sit on and then it’s down to me to step in, the only person they tend to listen to although rarely speak to me at any other time.

  Once they are all seated, Doreen and I sit down at the table and the children still fuss and whisper as the old cook comes out to serve us the sloppy breakfast she has prepared. Margaret has been here with Doreen since the orphanage started and has lately started to lose her marbles a bit; she talks to herself in the kitchen and has random arguments with nobody but the air. The food she prepares has seriously declined but when there’s nothing else to eat, you grin and bear it so you don’t go hungry.

  The children fall silent and all you hear is the sounds of the spoons hitting the bowls and the loud chewing that always irritates me. Doreen sits at the head of the table looking like she hasn’t slept all night, she always looks like that lately and her appearance seems to be completely altered. Her hair is un-brushed, her teeth are yellowing and her clothes are barely washed, she used to be so pristine but now, she looks like the back end of a donkey some would say.

  I see her staring at me out of the corner of my eye; she always makes sure I am sat next to her and not the smaller children who sit two chairs down as to not be as close to her.

  “You will need to help Margaret with the dishes,” she mumbles as she eats. I nod and agree, “and after that you have further chores to do, this place is filthy.”

  “I will do what I can, we call will,” I respond keeping my head down as to not look at her. I begin to shiver and the cold air creeps into the dining room.

  “Cold dear?” she asks kindly and for a split second I see the caring woman she once was, but it’s gone as soon as I nod, “well if you got off your ass and sorted the clothes out maybe you wouldn’t be, you’re almost eighteen now, you will no longer have a roof over your head, you need to sort yourself out.”

  She has been saying this over and over in the past few months, yes I know when I turn eighteen technically I am no longer property of the orphanage and should leave, but does she really want me to go? Why does she keep reminding me? I have never stepped foot outside this orphanage alone since I arrived here and going out alone terrifies me. I know nothing of where I came from or what will happen to me when I leave. Doreen always made sure I didn’t leave; well at least it felt like that anyway.

  “I know,” I murmur finishing my breakfast.

  “You have to think of something, what are you going to do, it’s cold out there,” she continues, “I can’t house you here for the rest of your life, no matter what you think, you have to leave here because one day....”

  Her voice trails off into the distance as she goes on and on at me about me leaving, but something else has caught my attention, the figure in the window.

  Someone is watching me, I look around the room but no-one else notices the strange figure peering through the window and tapping on the glass. Doreen is still chatting and the children continue to eat their breakfast.

  Its black hand runs down the window. The screeching sound is pain to my ears; I cover them over and wince. It points at me and forcefully thumps his hands on the window creating a loud bang, being scared I jump back and scream.

  Doreen and the children are all looking at me as if I’m strange, did they not hear that? That bang was so loud it made me jump out of my skin! Did they see nothing? It appears not. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asks looking at me like I’ve gone crazy.

  “Nothing,” I shake my head acting as casual as I can and gather myself, “I’m going to do the dishes now, come on kids and help clean your bowls up.”

  I stand to leave the table but Doreen pulls me back down, “you must be careful what you use, you may end up in places you don’t want to be,” then she releases me.

  What I use? What the hell is she on about and what does she mean a place do I not want to be? I don’t want to leave here that’s for sure but I know I do not have a choice. She gets no funding for the children and when I turn eighteen I am no longer under her care. I’m all alone from then and I have never been on my own before, that’s a scary thought.

  I head into the kitchen with the children to wash and tidy away the dishes. Margaret sits across the large oak table staring at me, her eyes narrow and she barely blinks, she doesn’t say much these days. Her wide eyes gawking at me is starting to freak me out. I turn away and try to dismiss it as I wipe the dishes, I’m ignoring her but I can feel her eyes pierce me from behind.

  A creepy sense drifts over me, like she is not the only one watching me or it’s not me she is watching. My eyes open wide in fear as I look around but all I see are the children and Margaret. The kitchen door creaks open and I hear the clacking of heels on the hard wooden floor and then a hand appears on my shoulder. I jump out of my skin causing me to drop and smash the plate.

  “Dear God child what is wrong with you this morning?” Doreen questions me, but her face shows she is less concerned instead rather she is annoyed at me.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you, you frightened me is all,” I bend down and start picking up the broken plate pieces, “I will clean this mess up.”

  “You are jumpy a lot lately, is something playing on your mind?” She asks curious all of a sudden, why would she care what is on my mind? She hasn’t noticed anything about since her husband died.

  “No,” I lie looking around trying to hide the fear that has seemingly gripped me, “everything is fine.” I don’t really want to confide in her.

  She leans over me, I feel her hovering but she says nothing, gives a slight sigh and then leaves.

  “Here you go,” Ruby smiles handing me a rubbish bag, “don’t worry, I will look after you, that’s why I’m here” she whispers sweetly.

  Bless her, she is here for other reasons I guess just like me but it is nice to hear her say that. I smile at her and stroke her cute pale face. It’s strange that such a small child provides me with so much comfort.

  The dishes are done and the kitchen is clean. I try and put the unusual morning events to the back of my mind as I take the children to the play-room. It’s not much of a play-room, some old raggedy toys lay about, pieces missing on some of them. Books with missing pages although it wouldn’t matter, most of them do not know how to read.

  We used to have a teacher come in and teach them basic reading, writing and mathematics but that stopped when she and I got into an argument, I hated that woman, she was snobby and looked down at us like we were nothing, and she was supposed to be someone we all looked up to. I was only seven at the time but I knew how horrible she was. I remember her as if she visited yesterday.

  After the argument, strangely she was involved in a car accident on the way home, since that day Doreen never bothered to replace her so the children suffered.

  I hate that it is like this for them, a rundown building with rags to wear and slop to eat, it melts my heart but what can I do about it
? I do not have anything to be able to rebuild what it is that needs doing.

  The children play with the toys and I sit in the corner watching them peacefully play. They are rowdy sometimes but they are little girls, what do you expect?

  “Willow, can you come here please,” I hear being screamed from another room. I smile at the girls and leave them to it heading to Doreen’s office.

  I knock the door gently and then walk in. Doreen is sat with her feet up on her broken desk, clothes hanging all around the room and rubbish across the floor, “you called me?”

  “Yes, I need you to go into town and get some food, Margaret isn’t feeling too well and I have things to do here.”

  Since when is Margaret isn’t feeling well? She seemed fine this morning? “You....you want me to go?” Is she serious? I have never stepped foot outside this orphanage in my life on my own, I have no idea where town is.

  “Yes, you need to see the outside world; you need to see what it’s like.”

  I look at her confused, “why now all of a sudden do I need to see? You have never let me step foot outside of here and now you want me to venture into a town I have never visited to get the groceries we cannot afford?”

  She stands to her feet, straightens her stained dress and comes around to me, “sweetheart, there are many bad things in the world and I, we, Henry and I kept you here to keep you safe. There is darkness in the world, it will try and take you, but remember, you are strong and you have a good heart.”

  What the hell is she on about; darkness has followed me since I was a child, why is she bringing this shit up now? Is she drunk already, it’s barely 11am and she’s spitting out gobbledygook.

  She hands me some small amount of change, “get what you can out of that, and be careful.”

  Be careful? They ‘kept’ me here to make sure I was safe and now for the first time she is letting me go out on my own? Why, what’s suddenly changed?

  I take the change from her, borrow a coat and head out of the building. My hands begin to tremor with nerves as I leave the confines of the orphanage for the first time in my life.

  I head down the long path that leads away from the orphanage; I look back and see the children through the window. I have no idea where I am heading but I guess I should just keep walking up the road.