Authors: Dulcinea Norton-Smith
In
the clearing there seemed to be no warmth other than the glow coming from the
small fire and no colour other than the brown, grass. Then I did see colour. A
slab of stone lay in the middle of the clearing on top of a big chunk of stone,
like a natural table that had erupted out of the earth to be used for whatever
this very purpose. To begin with I couldn
’
t see the slab fully or what was on
it. The figures danced a weaving, twisting dance with their backs to me. The
hoods of their heavy brown capes obscured their heads and faces. When they
finally moved I saw what they had been concealing and a jolt of shock ran
through me and made me want to throw up.
On the slab was a large, slick pool of blood; a slash of glistening, dark
red against the background of natural muted shades. My heart raced and I caught
a gasp before it escaped my lips like a traitor anxious to give away my
location. I clamped my hand to my mouth and pressed my back against the tree,
desperate not to move and get the attention of the figures.
My
heart drummed a desperate beat which echoed in my ears. I hoped that the
figures could not hear it as clearly as I could. I knew who they were and I
knew they would be angry to find me hiding and spying on them. They were
witches for sure and the worst witches in the area at that. The ones I wanted
to run into the least despite them being family.
After
what seemed like an eternity I finally got up the nerve to look again. I couldn
’
t see who or what the blood had come
from. I was thankful for that. Mam and Gran bent over the slab and worked small
piles of river clay into it. Over and over again they kneaded the clay until
the grey lumps became marbled with scarlet and eventually turned a muddy brown.
I
ducked behind the tree again but I was filled with a desperate urge to keep
looking and my stomach squirmed with nerves as if a nest of earwigs were
scrambling around in my gut. Mam and Gran began to chant and hiss in low
spiteful voices. They worked with the piles of clay until they became small,
images of people; one a man and the other a woman. Tiny, thin plumes of smoke
rose into the air as one of they began to melt candle wax. Gran held the candle
over a small fire then letting the wax drip to form two small pools on the
stone slab. Still chanting and hissing and screeching an inhuman song, Mam and
Gran worked small cuttings of something into the wax before pressing them into
the clay images. I leaned closer to try and see what the cuttings were but I
was too far away. Then their hoods fell away and I caught a glimpse of their
faces. Mam turned towards where I stood as if she had heard me.
I
held my breath and shot back behind the tree, hoping not to be seen. I was
terrified that even the slightest breath would give me away. I didn
’
t want to let them know I
’
d been spying on them. I had never
seen anything like this ritual, they said I was too stupid to be taught this
stuff yet, but I remembered now having seen tiny clay dolls like those before
around the house. Dolls of blood and clay designed to cause pain and death.
I
left the safety of my shelter behind the tree and moved slowly away, retracing
my steps to try and get away from the clearing unnoticed. My progress was slow
but silent until there was a small snap. A twig broke. It scratched the soft
spot in the arch of my foot and I squealed in pain before I could stop myself.
Gran whipped around. And her and Mam stood staring at the exact spot where I
stood but I was too far away for them to see properly.
“
Who is it?
”
screeched Mam in a high pitched grating voice
“
We heard you. Show yourself.
”
I
began to breathe quick panting gasps. I was trapped between being frozen to the
spot and wanting to run as fast as I could. Mam
’
s temper was something I didn
’
t want to have to face. She flew into
white hot rages sometimes and she had bruised me bad more than once for a lot
less than this. Then Gran began to speak in a hissing, croaking voice which
sounded like a whisper but was unbearably clear.
“
Come out now and it will be the better for you. We will
send you away merely with a limp or the loss of an eye. Stay where you are and
we will catch you anyway and then I cannot guarantee that you will make it away
alive.
”
Mam
was bad but Gran was worse. She was cold and cruel in her punishments and I did
not doubt she had caused deaths before. I had waited in terror for years for
the day when I angered her enough for a doll to be made of me. I tried to
figure out what to do. If I moved, even if I ran, I would give away where I was
and they would catch me... If I stayed where I was it would only be a few
moments before they were upon me. If I went to them willingly; then what?
Perhaps that was my best option. Surely they wouldn
’
t really lame me or take an eye when
they knew it was me but still the beating I might get would be bad.The decision
was made for me. Before I could move they were moving, closing in on me fast
despite their ages. They seemed to scurry at an inhuman pace, their feet hidden
by their long layered skirts.
When
they first started towards me they seemed to be bent double and unable to walk
properly but the closer they got the straighter their backs became and the
faster their feet scurried until they were all of a sudden right in front of
me. I let out a small scream of surprise before I could stop it then felt Gran
’
s bony knotted knuckles as she
pressed her hand over my mouth, pushing hard until my teeth bit into my lip and
warm blood trickled over my tongue, pooling in the gaps between my teeth and
gums. Their breath was hot on my face as they stood close, only slightly taller
than me but their presence was so filled with rage that I found I couldn
’
t move. The smell of rotten fruit and
meat came from the mouths and they were now so close to my face that I could
see the brown and blackened teeth and the cracked flaking lips that surrounded
them. I stared at the mouths, unable to look away.
“
You!
”
Screeched Mam as
she jabbed a gnarled finger at my face. I flinched but forced my gaze up
towards the faces. Gran
’
s eyes stared back at me unseeing and milky white but still
staring right at the spot where I was rooted. Mam
’
s eyes were mismatched both in colour
and in the directions they rolled. I stared back then finally found the will to
move and the courage to speak.
“
Sorry Mam
”
I mumbled through Gran
’
s hand, finally finding my legs and
moving back a step.
“
What are you doing hiding and spying
like a pathetic little woodlouse? What interest have you in the workings of
women?
”
Mam
spat the words at me, her eyes rolling frantically, rarely both pointing in the
same direction at the same time. I flinched again. Mam can be a bit handy with
her slaps and she was raging mad right now. As Mam ranted at me I stared at her
gaping mouth full of brown stumps. The familiar smell of her fetid breath
warmed my face unpleasantly and caused steaming puffs of mist in the crisp air.
I stopped myself from flinching again, knowing that if I did it would anger Mam
even more and I
’
d be bound to get a beating, chances are I
’
d be getting one at home anyway.
There
’
s no way they
’
d let me off this one.
“
Leave her
”
hissed my Gran.
As
her milky blind eyes stared at me I shivered. She claimed to blind, always had
done since I were a babe, but I always felt that she could see just fine.
“
She
’
s of no matter. The deed is done and little Lizzie Lizard
is too stupid to be of any threat to us. She hasn
’
t got no witching talent about her.
Stupid as a worm. Come child, take my arm. Help an old woman back to her
hearth.
”
Gran
held her arm out to me. She had taken on a stooped posture and looked for all
the world like the wizened, harmless old woman that she would never be. She and
Mam had never shared any of their secrets with me but I
’
d heard talk and insults from the
locals. They called them bitches, whores, witches, so many names and none of
‘
em good. As usual I cringed when I
took her arm but I tried not to let her or Mam see. It
’
s easier to play along at being a
simpleton than it is to show I am payin
’
any mind to what goes on. Safer too
more
‘
an likely. Being anything other than obedient usually earns
me a beating and no food for a couple of days. No food for me means I can
’
t give any extra to Nettie. As we
made the mile long walk back toward home Mam and Gran talked and thankfully
ignored me but for the odd telling off whenever my attention wandered and Gran
stumbled on a stone or tree root.
“
Will it work Ma?
”
Mam asked in her high pitched, rapid
voice.
Along
with her roving eyeballs her habit of speaking in such urgent tones often made
anyone listening to her feel the antsy panic which seeped out from her. She
made me jumpy and nervous.
“
It
’
ll work Elizabeth
”
hissed Gran
“
We have our beliefs and they are well
founded. Those that own us will not fail us and those that owe us will be
filled with regret.
”
The
few times I had been out with Mam I
’
d noticed that when she spoke the
people around her would often find themselves looking around, anywhere but at
her, to try to avoid her roving eyes. Those listening to Gran would be unable
to look away. Although her voice was usually calm and low there was a wicked
black shade of malice in everything she said and anyone nearby would be unable
to tear their gaze away from her for fear of what may happen if they did.
“
They
’
ll pay won
’
t they Ma? They
’
ll pay for treatin
’
me that way. I could
‘
ave given
‘
im the world.
”
As
Mam spoke her voice became even higher pitched and her eyes each rolled from
left to right, up and down, faster and faster as they always did when she got
in a rage.
“
They
’
ll pay daughter. They
’
ll pay, don
’
t worry yourself. Now let that be an
end to the talk.
”
We
all walked on in silence. I was thankful for that and no mistake.
A few moments of peace for the last part of
the journey home. I knew who the little figurines were for now. Listening to Mam
in her rage it made sense. I didn
’
t know then what they were called.
The dolls were effigies; little dolls that you do badness to and badness
happens to those that look like them. Even better if you have a lock of their
hair or some nail clips to add in.
Mam
had been chunnering away to herself a lot lately about a man she
’
d been smitten for. A local widowed
farmer. He wasn
’
t one of the rich ones but he did have cattle and land and
had a kind word for everyone; even Mam. There weren
’
t many around here that were kind to
Mam. Mam took it to mean he was interested in her. She started to visit him a
lot to ask for milk or offer to cure a sick animal. Then she
’
d fair shocked him by saying they
should get married. Well he hadn
’
t been being nothing but neighbourly
and he
’
d been so surprised that he
’
d laughed, right in her face. Mam had
taken it as him mocking her and was fair raging mad by the time she got home.
That was over a week ago and she hadn
’
t stopped muttering to herself ever
since. That man doll wouldn
’
t be good for the farmer; not at all. There was a woman
doll too. Likely as ever that were of his mam-in-law. She
’
d never had time for my Mam and spat
at her more
’
n once. I felt sad for them, especially the farmer. He
’
d spared me many a kind word or
bobbin of thread in the past and he didn
’
t deserve whatever ills they were
cursing on him. This farmer wasn
’
t the first to come a cropper of Mam
and Gran
’
s temper though and he wouldn
’
t be the last.