Wilde

by Eloise Williams

  She is the very opposite of me.

  ‘I wanted everyone to know how it felt to hurt. I’ve seen everything. I know lots of things. I might not talk much, but I listen. At the start, I listened so I could try to make friends, but no one wanted to be friends with me. Day by day, I just got more invisible. Year by year, I disappeared. When the project started, I decided I wasn’t going to be invisible anymore. I…’

  She bursts into fresh tears.

  ‘You are The Witch?’ The first words I’ve managed.

  ‘I am The Witch.’

  We all turn to a noise behind us.

  ‘Well, well, well. This just gets better and better.’ Jemima has sidled in. ‘The Witch has been discovered and now she must be tried.’

  This is bad. This is very, very bad.

  16

  Jemima pushes Susan into a cubicle and traps her there while she waits for back up. ‘We need to decide what to do with you, witch.’

  This is awful. Terrible. Susan looks absolutely terrified.

  ‘Leave her alone, Jemima.’

  ‘Yes. Leave her alone.’ Dorcas sounds stronger than me.

  Jemima narrows her eyes in scorn.

  ‘Or what? What are you going to do? Curse me again? Get your friend to write me a letter?’ Her face is riddled with hate. An apple eaten by maggots.

  ‘We need to give her a chance.’ I attempt to push Jemima out of the way, but she’s made of concrete obstinacy. ‘When people are horrible, there are usually reasons. Like being overlooked for things.’

  I glare at her so that she’ll know I’m talking about her as well as Susan.

  Jemima flinches but recovers in a milli-second. ‘No reason is good enough.’

  ‘Perhaps she wants to be noticed.’ Again, I load what I say so Jemima will know I’m talking about her too, but it makes no difference. I hoped that Jemima would show some compassion because she has been hurt recently. She doesn’t. She grabs Susan hard by the arm and drags her out of the toilets. Susan yowls.

  We follow. As we get into the corridor, our class comes shrieking out on their way to the yard. This scuppers any hope I had of a teacher stepping in to stop this.

  Jemima frog-marches Susan ahead and tells everyone to follow. They do. I get jostled out of the way, the other kids are so eager to keep up. People’s yells crackle the corridors. Shoes march. The electric smell of fear and excitement. I look for the receptionist as we go past, but he isn’t at his post. I can’t wait for him. I have to stay with the others.

  Susan is The Witch. I’m utterly gobsmacked. Quiet, unassuming Susan. She’s the one who spread all that hate and malicious gossip. Maybe Susan deserves to be tried.

  I catch the picture of Winter out of the corner of my eye. The people in it look wild, frenzied. Just like we are now. What am I thinking? What have I become? I’m so sorry. I need to stop this.

  We are heading for the willow tree. I’m at the back of the crowd but the words pass through us like a snake from mouth to venomous mouth.

  ‘Susan is The Witch.’ I hear it over and over.

  I can see Dorcas at the front, trying to wrestle with Jemima, but Jemima is strong, and everyone else is with her. They pull Dorcas away and she falls back into the pack. I wait. I don’t know what to do.

  We get to the willow too quickly. The green is a tangling cage today. It hides us from the outside world. Here there is no law except ours.

  I’m torn. I want to run to get help. I want to stay to make sure things don’t get any more out of hand.

  ‘Quiet!’ Everyone obeys Jemima immediately. Suspense fills the space. ‘We have before us The Witch.’

  I cower at the back as people hurl questions at Susan. They are so angry. These curses burned away at us and kept us from sleeping night after night. The heat of them scorched us with humiliation, revealing secrets we were never going to tell.

  I want to scream at them all to stop, but I’m afraid. Why should I put myself in danger? I haven’t done anything.

  Jemima holds her hand up.

  ‘You want to know why she did it?’

  A massive chorus of ‘Yes’. The shoving is so hostile, I nearly get knocked over.

  ‘Because she wanted a friend.’

  There are jeers. Screeches.

  Susan is held by Holly and one of the other girls. She’s struggling to get free. ‘Please,’ she says, over and over. She is scared stiff. I have to help her.

  ‘Stop this.’ I push through. ‘Stop this.’

  I get to the front and look at them all. There’s something in their faces I don’t recognise. They’ve turned into a seething mass of rage.

  Jemima holds her hand up again, but it takes a long time for her to get any hush this time. ‘What do we have here? Another traitor?’

  They surge forward. Branwen is toppled off her feet. Lewis picks her up and takes her to the side, but even he is changed.

  ‘I’m not a traitor. I just don’t want this.’ I can’t think of the words. ‘This is barbaric.’

  Boos come at me full force.

  ‘She was just lonely. She wanted to be noticed. We have to let her speak.’

  ‘Let her speak,’ Jemima says, and then, before anyone else can say anything, ‘Let’s give her a real trial.’

  A roar of approval.

  People begin arranging themselves. We’ve practised a witch trial often enough.

  I close my eyes against the unfolding history of this place. This can’t happen again. The birds are gathering. I can hear them even though no one else can.

  Dorcas’s hands swing helplessly at her sides. She looks at me. I can’t give her anything.

  Someone pushes me roughly from behind and I’m in my position as the executioner, whether I want to be or not.

  Susan is shaking so much, it’s amazing she’s still upright. I want to put out my arm to help her, but I can’t. I’m afraid. I’m afraid.

  ‘Susan Stevens, you are brought before our court on this day under suspicion of witchcraft.’ Jemima is enjoying her leading role at last. Her audience is rapt. ‘You have put this class under your evil spell.’

  All she’s done is write some letters. Poisonous and spiteful letters, yes. Enchanted letters? Capable of cursing us? No.

  We aren’t the children of Year Six anymore, we are a court, a jury, a judge, an executioner.

  ‘Why did you do this?’

  ‘I was lonely. You don’t know what it feels like to be lonely.’

  I know exactly what she means. Loneliness is a killer.

  ‘Lonely? Really? In fact, you wanted to – and I use your own words here – pay us all back, didn’t you?’ Jemima is milking the spotlight for all its worth.

  ‘Yes. I felt like someone important for once. But it got out of hand and, once it started, I couldn’t stop.’

  ‘So, you do not deny that you are The Witch.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘A yes or no answer, please, Miss Stevens. Are you, or are you not The Witch?’

  ‘Yes. But…’

  The class gasp in astonishment as if they hadn’t already heard this. Someone is casting an evil spell here, but it’s not Susan.

  The birds are getting so close.

  ‘As you have no defence and no witnesses to speak on your behalf, may I suggest we bring this trial to an end with a guilty plea?’

  I can’t help myself. ‘I’ll be a witness for her.’

  Even Jemima looks amazed. I don’t know why I’m doing this. I should just shut up. Go along with the crowd.

  ‘I’ve seen the way you all treat her. She’s excluded from things. I didn’t even notice her until she showed me the first curse note.’ She wrote that first note. She showed me it for attention. ‘It’s not nice being lonely and alone. If you’d all treated her better, taken more notice of her, she wouldn’t have done this.’

  The birds zoom outside this swaying green light.

  ‘So you are on her side?’ Jemima’s eyes are evil flames. I can’t belie
ve I made an effort to be kind to her. I’ve never wanted to punch someone so much in my whole life. She’ll make every day hell for me for this. But what can she do? Term’s nearly over. I’ll move to another school. I’m not friends with Dorcas anymore anyway.

  ‘I’m not on anyone’s side. I just think you all could have been kinder. It wasn’t nice to write those notes, at all, but she doesn’t deserve this.’

  ‘I think we’d better decide on Susan Stevens and then hold a second trial.’

  This gets yells of approval. They’re rattled by the thought that they may somehow be responsible. It was a wrong move to try to reason with them while they are in this state.

  ‘First, let us decide on Susan’s fate.’

  ‘Guilty. Guilty.’ Led by Jemima, they begin to chant.

  ‘She is guilty!’ Jemima raises her hands in the air triumphantly. ‘She must be punished. How do we deal with witches, Year Six?’

  They are going to start listing all the terrible things that have been done to witches. The hanging and drownings, burnings and executions. This is out of control. I’m going to get a teacher. I turn to leave.

  ‘I’m not a witch,’ Susan screams it so loud it stops me in my tracks. ‘She is!’

  I feel my neck prickle. I turn back slowly.

  ‘She’s been doing strange things ever since she got here.’ Susan’s voice is strangled but gaining momentum with each word. ‘She communicates with birds.’

  My head fizzes and burns.

  ‘They follow her. You’ve seen it. You’ve all seen it.’

  The birds are clouding the sky, their dark shadows clearly visible through the green. I clench my fists tight and hold them back.

  I try to convince myself that no one really believes in witches here. Jemima is just a bully. Susan is just saying anything to get herself off the hook.

  ‘She was in the toilets with Dorcas…’

  The fury rushes through my veins like blood after a race. All the witches in history screech at me to escape. Run, they tell me. Run.

  ‘…and Dorcas said she’d seen her flying.’

  The birds are too strong now; there’s no stopping them.

  ‘Tell them, Dorcas.’

  Dorcas never lies. She tries to say something, but Susan sees her loyalty and talks over the top of her. ‘I’m not making it up. I’m not. Wilde’s the real witch. It’s her.’

  She points her finger at me.

  Everything is out of control. I’m running, with the whole class at my heels. Birds fly in my wake, fending off my classmates with beaks and claws. As soon as I run, the class see me for what I am. Though none of them really believe I can fly or that I’m a witch, they know now that I’m weird and weirdness is contagious. They want to deal with me once and for all.

  17

  I run all the way to the waterfall without thinking. I don’t consider how treacherous the steps are or how I’ll escape the gorge once I’m in it. My legs just take me there as if they’ve been programmed by someone else.

  Some of the class are still close to me. The birds bought me a few minutes and some classmates gave up straight away but I can see Jemima and a few of the others are now gaining ground. If they’d follow me this far they must mean business. It’s like they know where I’m going. Like something bigger than us is at work. My legs hurt from running but I can’t stop and face them. I keep going against the pain.

  Think clearly, Wilde. Don’t panic. We have run away from school. It’s Year Six code to keep things to ourselves but surely someone from our class will tell or one of the staff will notice.

  I think of how empty the school is with most other classes on trips and residentials or working on their own end-of-term projects. The receptionist obsessed with his file and making calls. Gwyneth is preening and rehearsing and contacting her ‘fans’ on social media. No one will notice until it’s too late.

  I take the steps down two at a time, four at a time, ten at a time. At the bottom I crouch to recover. I don’t know how I did that without breaking my ankles. Looking up, I can see the others through the trees. Jemima is shouting, howling, wild. There’s no way out but up the steps I just came down. I look around desperately. I am too near the water. What are they going to do? They are out of control. I’ll hide behind the waterfall. It’s the only hope I have.

  Scaling the rocks, I race along the path to the water. Not worrying about falling this time. Into that palace of glimmering light. It’s too thin from the drought to hide me properly. I crouch in a corner. There is no escape.

  They reach the bottom of the steps. Please let them not see me. Please.

  Of course, they do. They know this place as well as I do. Better. They’ve lived here all their lives. I press back into the rock. Water echoes. The world in falling patterns. Water spraying my face. I am part of this place. I will take them on.

  I stand with my feet firmly on the floor, clench my fists, as they see me, and slip and slide along the path. Jemima leading. Dorcas. Holly. Susan. Lewis.

  They face me, panting, tired. They look uncertain now. As if they know this has gone too far.

  ‘Stop. This is madness.’ I shout to be heard over the waterfall.

  Susan looks wretched. Tears mark dirty lines down her face, and she is holding her stomach. I can see that she has been sick. I’m so angry for her. For me. For all the witches, and the ones who weren’t but were punished anyway.

  ‘This whole witch-hunt thing has got to stop,’ I shout. ‘You’ve been telling the story wrong for all these years. The legend of the witch, it’s wrong.’

  ‘Everything’s gone wrong since you’ve been here.’ Jemima isn’t going to let it go. ‘The curse has come back.’

  She gets agreement from Holly and scared silence from the others. Jemima shouts louder. ‘It isn’t just the letters. It’s the real curse. Winter’s curse is back, and it came back at the same time as you. Only this time you’re trying to kill us with the heat. Soon there will be no water left and we’ll die.’

  ‘She hasn’t brought the heat back. It’s the climate crisis,’ Dorcas shouts at Jemima and Jemima shoves her violently.

  ‘Stop. Please stop it,’ Susan begs.

  The Falls of Snow thunder around us despite the lack of rain. We are in a different world here in this cave. Jemima shoves Dorcas again and she falls on to the path. I see blood on her face; she’s hurt. Jemima kicks Dorcas while she’s down.

  ‘No!’ I yell it louder than I’ve ever yelled before.

  Jemima kicks Dorcas again and that’s when I lose it. I can’t hold the anger in anymore.

  ‘No.’ I throw my hands way above my head and make a noise I’ve never made before. ‘Aeeeeeeeeeeyaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeeee’. High-pitched. Keening. It isn’t human. It is Wilde’s call. And they hear it.

  The birds come crashing through the waterfall. My classmates scream and cower, but I’ve gone too far to care. They deserve every bit of fear. I keen again, gutturally, then roar from deep in my belly. The sound fills the cavern. ‘Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiaeeeeeeyiiiii.’

  I bring the birds to me in their hundreds. Let myself feel the magic properly for the first time. Channel the magic into them. The birds understand. I’m pouring the strength into them, and they grab the other children with their beaks and claws, lifting them through the curtain of water into the air. They take Dorcas. They take Susan and Lewis. Holly puts up a good fight but she’s no match for them. Hundreds of birds of all kinds picking them up one by one. They try to take Jemima, but I grab her for myself, lift her into the air.

  They all deserve this. They all betrayed me, like they all betrayed Winter. My anger is Arctic cold. Revenge for all the witches of history.

  I step through the waterfall and hover. I’m not surprised to fly. It’s as natural as the beating of my heart.

  I hold Jemima high above the water.

  They are all watching me now. These children, who think they can bully me, dangle in the air. The drowning pool is below me. I see shapes in i
t. The seven sisters dancing. Winter emerging.

  As she rises, everything becomes cold. The surface clouds into ice. The waterfall freezes into claws. Ice spreads out to the trees, making them white. Beautiful, sharp, glistening, fierce, bright white.

  The birds shake the children like rag dolls. I can order them to release their puppets. Drop them and smash them all to smithereens.

  Winter moves towards me. She is dressed in rags. Younger than I thought. About my age. I’m getting revenge for both of us. And for my mum.

  The sky has turned black. Pictures move in the ice of the waterfall, dark, evil.

  I am taking revenge for all of us.

  Dorcas screams. ‘No, Wilde. No.’

  I get ready to tell the birds to smash their prey, but Winter smiles at me. I feel a shiver run through my body. I look into her face. I look at Jemima’s face. Scared to death.

  This is a crossroads. I can make a choice. I can kill everyone here and let witches hide forever, if there are any others out there. Or I can try to make these people understand. How it feels to be an outsider. What it feels like to be thought of as evil before you’ve even opened your mouth.

  Enough of this. Winter was a good witch who turned bad because of the town’s actions. I need everyone to hear her story. I won’t turn bad because of pressure. I have choices. I can stop this. I land and set Jemima free. ‘Enough.’

  Winter disappears. The sky clears and the heat of the day returns. The ice melts and falls as water again from the waterfall. The surface of the pool cracks and the faces disappear. The children are let down gently by the birds, who swoop and sing.