Poppy Darke

by Colin Wraight

  The idea was simple but brilliant, peppered with just the odd flaw here and there. “If Poppy wants me to be a ghost then that’s what I’ll be.” He said to no one in particular. “I’ll haunt her until she listens to me.” A wicked smile spread across his face, this was going to be fun.

  Poppy blinked once and suddenly Jesse was gone, she frowned and opened the window to check the road for any sign of him. He’d simply vanished into thin air; the swing was still swaying to and throw but he’d disappeared.

  The implications of Jesse actually being a real ghost were huge. She remembered all those strange looks the neighbors had given her when she had been hanging out with him. They must have thought she was completely insane, talking to herself all the time like some deranged chatterbox.

  Absentmindedly changing channels on the television set to an art programme she liked she noticed the local newspaper lying open on the coffee table. Her brother smiled out to the world from its wrinkled pages, frozen for all time, there to be gawped at by the type of people who stop and gather around accidents but don’t try to help. The type of people who gossip and spread rumors from behind net curtains, who look and stare accusingly but never speak their minds to your face.

  He had on those little blue and white pajamas and his cheeks were rosy red. It was a photograph she had taken herself some weeks before and in much happier times. Her Christmas present to him lay wrapped under the tree, which, much to her mums’ annoyance granddad had put up. She’d only bought him a tiny teddy bear with his name on its vest, stupid really, he didn’t know his name yet and he couldn’t read anyway.

  She snapped out of her daydreaming just as the TV switched itself back onto the news channel where the same photograph of her brother adorned the wall behind the presenter. Poppy snatched up the remote control and went back to watching someone painting Santa flying through the night sky on his sleigh.

  The television seemed to have other ideas and immediately flicked back to the news, this time turning the volume up to its highest setting. Poppy blocked her ears, crawled on her knees to the wall and pulled the plug out.

  The newsman disappeared and was instantly replaced by the sound of the microwave springing to life in the kitchen. Poppy shrieked in anger, she knew that room was empty because her mum and granddad were still down at the police station.

  “Jesse!” She screamed angrily. “I know it’s you! Now stop it.”

  The microwave signaled its intention to turn off with its customary beeping sound and then all went quiet. Poppy slowly walked into the kitchen fully expecting little Jesse to be standing there with a great big smile all over his face, instead she found an empty room.

  Inevitably the food blender began whirring all on its own, jumping up and down as it strained on the end of its cord to reach the edge of the work top. Then the knife and fork draw slammed in and out spilling cutlery all over the floor. The refrigerator clearly thought this was great fun and vomited all of the food on its shelves.

  “Jesse is that you?” She muttered nervously. “Are you in here?”

  More silence followed if only for a few seconds.

  Suddenly she shrieked and jumped in terror as the TV burst back into life and switched to an empty channel which transmitted just white noise and millions of black dancing dots. She turned and noticed that the plug was back in the wall and expected pangs of fear to start turning her stomach over, but they didn’t, there was no fear...Just curiosity.

  The television screen drew her attention like a moth to light; she fell to all fours and crawled slowly toward it. The dots flickered and danced making patterns the way flocks of birds sometimes do in the twilight of autumn evenings. The show was engrossing and she couldn’t tear her eyes away, because somewhere in the secret place, locked away deep in her mind, she knew she was looking at a lost soul.

  “Jesse!” She whispered.

  Slowly, very slowly the little boy, barely seven years old faded into view.

  “Hello P...op...Py..!” He labored to say as he matched his voice to the white noise blaring out of the speakers. “Now you have met your real ghost at last..!”

  Poppy nodded dumbly

  “I’m dead..! Get over it as I had to..!” Jesse said unevenly almost as if he was sleepy. “I’m fading out and I don’t know when I will be back... Too tired to..!”

  Poppy’s eyes widened as she strained to make out his face amongst the black dots. “Jesse.” She screamed. “Don’t go! I’m sorry that I shouted at you...”

  Although his image disappeared his weakening voice remained, as if shouting from the bottom of a deep well. “The baby..!” He cried weakly. “The baby is..!”

  “The baby is what?” Poppy screamed at the TV. “Come back Jesse... Please come back!”

  She listened with her ear pressed against the Television speaker and in tearful frustration flicked through all the other channels trying to find her friend.

  “No... No..! Don’t leave!” She cried as a hand reached down from above and switched the TV off. “Granddad!” She sobbed and hugged his leg. “He’s gone..! Jesses gone and I think he knew were the baby is!”

  The old man bent down and hoisted Poppy to her feet. “Listen to me..! Jesse is the little boy who used to live next door. He disappeared just over two years ago and not long after that I noticed his spirit hanging around the place!”

  Poppy wiped tears from her red and blotched face. “But if he’s gone forever we’ll never find Nathaniel.”

  Her Granddad stroked her cheek and caught a tear, as he rubbed it dry between his forefinger and thumb he said. “He’ll be back; those lost souls are made of tough stuff... He’ll be back, I’m sure he will!”

  “And when he is?” Poppy asked.

  The old man glanced at his dog that had been stood in the doorway the whole time. “I’ll unleash hell Poppy...! I’ll unleash hell..! But listen, I’ve got some good news for you!”

  “Has the school burnt down?” Poppy said glumly.

  “No it hasn’t!” He replied with a smile. “We managed to get a message out to your dad at the dig site and he’s on his way home right now. He should be landing just before midnight.”

  As the last of the sun’s rays became trapped behind ever thickening snow clouds and day became night Skuttlebucket opened his eyes. Deeply worried, he had slept wrapped in his wings on the rim of the caldron.

  Waking up in full warrior attire was almost like turning the clock back four hundred years, for the briefest of moments he felt like his old self once more. The armor was comforting and the hilt of his sword seemed like the return of an old friend.

  The voice was shrill and pierced his heart like a rusty old dagger. “Skuttlebucket...!” The Witch screamed. “Wake up you good for nothing lump of old rock!”

  The Goyle bristled at the insult, his bloodshot eyes flashed with hatred as he drew his sword. “At your service my Lady!” He growled angrily.

  Agyness hesitated and stared at her servant for just long enough for Skuttlebucket to see that she was slightly taken aback.

  “What’s with the costume?” She sneered and then added sarcastically. “Been invited to a fancy dress party... Have you?”

  Skuttlebucket couldn’t help but glower at his mistress. She had been demonized by the Goyle council, and afterall he was still a Boneshiner. The desire to kill her coursed through his veins like the magic she had once wielded against him.

  “Tonight, just after midnight..!” He growled with newfound confidence. “Warrior Goyles will come to check that I have killed you!”

  Agyness almost laughed with incredulity. “Then they’re going to be sorely disappointed...! Aren’t they?”

  “They will send an entire army if need be. You couldn’t win even if you had all of your powers..! I fear this night is your last my Lady!”

  As Agyness finally realised the magnitude of her dire situation the smile began to melt from her haggard face, only to be replaced with a frown. “And what do you suggest Goyle?”
/>
  Skuttlebucket carefully unsheafed his sword and pointed it at the witch. “It would be an honour to end both our misery!”

  The frown lines grew deeper with every shake of her head. “No... No...No...” She barked. “That just won’t do at all! I’m not going to die, don’t be ridiculous, tonight I’m going to become young and beautiful once again!”

  Even after four hundred years the warrior within had never really died, all the magic had done was imprison him. The magical dungeon, hidden away in a secret corner of his Goyle mind had weakened over the years until one day the walls cracked and the bolts on the doors crumbled to dust.

  He had once cowered before her venomous tirades like a scared puppy. But no more would he fear her and no more would he hide from her violent outbursts. Although weak, she was still dangerous and perhaps even deadly, but the balance of power was shifting favorably.

  His eyes sparkled in the candlelight as he ran his fingers down the sharpened blade. “Have no fear Ladyship the end will be swift... I bear you no grudge!”

  Agyness smiled sickly and tried to raise a fireball, all she managed was a limp spark that doused before hitting the ground. “You would dare to challenge me Goyle? The insolence of it..!” She spat.

  Even Skuttlebucket was surprised to see the spikes on his arms and wings begin to fill with blood. His old Goyle body was sensing danger even before his saw movement in the rafters.

  “Get in here Twiddles!” He shouted to the big cat which had been asleep in the study for most of the afternoon. “Get in here...! We’ve got company!”

  By now Agyness having also sensed another presence, had ceased her rant, and was glancing nervously into the gloom. “What is it Skuttlebucket...?” She said nervously. “I am unarmed, I’m scared, and I don’t want to die!”

  Suddenly Twiddles silently entered the room and hopped up on to a table. He immediately began sniffing the air but gave no sign that he recognised the scent. The overpowering aroma of rotting fish carcass almost made him swoon with hunger.

  Cats are solitary animals with little time for social niceties or for that matter loyalty. He cleared the room in one great bound and landed on the windowsill with hardly a sound. Here the sweet scent was stronger; somewhere out there in the woods was a feast of mouthwatering fish, and twiddles didn’t need inviting twice.

  Boneshiner Dogbreath Skuttlebucket watched from above as the cat slinked off in to the night. He drew his sword and glided down to the open window and also landed on the sill using one wing as a shield.

  Gargle adopted a standard stance with his sword held low behind his own wing. “Who are you?” He growled and hopped down on to the floor.

  “Look closely old man..! Don’t you know me..?” Dogbreath said and turned sideways so that he could keep one eye fixed firmly on the Witch.

  Skuttlebucket surveyed the stranger with a certain degree of awe. He was a Boneshiner alright, but he was taller and more muscular than any Goyle Skuttlebucket had ever seen before. He had keen, sharp eyes that seemed eager for battle yet he held his sword loosely. Arrogance was written all over his ugly unscarred face.

  Unscarred faces are always a bad sign, it signals that either the opponent has never fought before or they are very skilled. Unfortunately Skuttlebucket suspected the latter, although not completely without skills of his own, the old Goyle did not fancy this particular fight.

  “Why would I know you stranger?” He asked. “... And what do you want?”

  “I have come for my family’s honour!”

  Skuttlebucket sniffed hard at the draught from the open window. There didn’t seem to be any other unwelcome visitors and twiddles was long gone. “Well it’s not here so why don’t you go back to where you came from... And stay there!” He said angrily.

  Bereft of her ever weakening powers Agyness had taken to hiding behind an old leather settee. Trembling as much with anger as with fear she began to sob and when she thought neither of the Goyles was looking, she sank down out of sight.

  “The infamous Gargle Skuttlebucket I presume..? Warrior... Legend...” The stranger sneered. “...Traitor!” Then he suddenly moved several yards closer dragging his sword over the stones to produce sparks.

  Returning to his fighting stance, Dogbreath began to circle his opponent almost as if inviting an attack. Gargle knew better, he had taught this very move to many of his troops and frowned in delight at the obvious mistake.

  Seeing his chance Gargle coiled the muscles at the back of his throat and shot his tongue out at the ankles of his opponent. Wrapping the sticky projectile around the stranger’s legs he snapped his head back and sent his enemy crashed backwards into the fireplace.

  “Not bad old man... Not bad at all.” Dogbreath said earnestly and bowed his head with respect and then clambered back to his feet. “She’s dead you know! Died in the blitz of 42, got blown to smithereens trying to protect the dead of London... But you wouldn’t care about all that would you?”

  “Who’s dead? Who are you talking about?”

  “My old mum, that’s who I’m talking about... Does the name Fluffy Gigglebottom mean anything to you? I don’t suppose it does... I mean, you managed to forget her quickly enough didn’t you?”

  That name, ‘Fluffy Gigglebottom’, tore through his mind like a harpoon, dragging memories concealed by magic back to the surface. “I... I was married to Fluffy Gigglebottom...!” He said those words as if for the first time ever. “I... Loved my Fluffy Gigglebottom... And you say she’s... dead?”

  As the memories flooded back it suddenly seemed like only yesterday that he had kissed her goodbye to go and fight Demons at Finsbury. The burden of pain tore across his broken heart and he collapsed to his knees.

  Dogbreath immediately lunged forwards and slashed sideways at Skuttlebucket’s neck, stopping only as the blade touched his skin. “Before I send you to meet her..! Are you sure you don’t recognise me...? Because I’d always hoped that you would? You know... Just before I took your head off”

  Skuttlebucket hadn’t heard a word; his mind was still at the rectory gate gazing into the eyes of his beloved Fluffy. He had kissed her lips and her cheeks and then he had kissed... His baby son!

  As tear filled memories flowed down his cheeks Skuttlebucket finally gazed proudly upon the face before him. “Dogbreath my boy..!” He held out a shaking hand that faltered before actually touching the strangers face. “...Is that really you?”

  Dogbreath Skuttlebucket had waited his whole life for this moment, to reclaim his family’s honour. He had honed his warrior’s skill killing demons for the Goyle council but in the final moment of his revenge he could not kill his own father, no matter how pathetic.

  “You have until midnight to kill the Witch..! Or I shall!” He said and with one flap of his wings flew through the window and soared high into the night sky.

  CHAPTER 25

  Poppy had sat cross legged right in front of the TV all afternoon and into the evening watching black and white dots dance around on the screen. Sometimes they made patterns which she thought could be some kind of message from Jesse, but if they were she couldn’t understand them. He was gone and Poppy was sure that he wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

  She began to flick through all of the channels over and over again in the hope of seeing her friend but there was just no sign of him. Poppy blew out through pouting lips in frustration and her cheeks began to redden with ever increasing irritation and anger.

  “Stupid TV!” she hissed and hit her fist against the screen. “Stupid..! Stupid TV!” It hurt her knuckles which only served to make her even angrier, so she hit it again and again. As the fury vented itself through shear aggression the unfortunate television eventually toppled backwards off its stand and fell to the floor.

  While it crackled and hissed in a cloud of acrid smoke Poppys anger rose to previously unseen heights. The rage took hold of her mind and screamed at her soul for satisfaction, suddenly and without warning a, pulsating ring of golden lig
ht exploded into existence just above her head.

  Ducking for cover she gasped in shock and let out a tiny scream.

  She watched as it circled twice around the room, almost as if looking for something, and then returned to Poppy and hovered in front of her.

  Somehow, deep down, she knew they were one and the same. The halo wasn’t just part of her it was hers to command. One rueful glance at the dying television set was all it took and in the blink of an eye the halo shot off and smashed it into a thousand pieces.

  Poppy shielded her eyes from the explosion of plastic and electronic circuits but still caught sight of Jesse flying through the air and disappearing into the wall.

  As she straightened herself up and pulled bits out of her hair the halo returned to a point six inches above her head, and then simply vanished. Poppy gingerly felt for it with her hands but it had completely disappeared.

  “Jesse..!” She screamed “Jesse where are you?” She ran back into the kitchen area to where she thought he would land, but there was no one there. “Jesse..? I know you’re here! I saw you!”

  She looked behind the cooker and banged on the wall calling out his name all the while. He wasn’t in the washing machine and he certainly was not in the microwave. All the cupboards were ghost free, as was the bread bin (but it wasn’t like he could fit in there anyway).

  Standing akimbo and with a scowl across her face, she wondered where on earth he could be. As she folded her arms there was movement in the corner of her eye and turned to see what it was. But there was nothing there just the old fridge freezer and a large clock on the wall above it.

  Poppy guessed that she must have seen a glint of light reflect on the second hand as it spun around the clock face. Her disappointment instantly dissolved as she suddenly noticed what was moving; Twenty six alphabet fridge magnets were slowly but surely rearranging themselves in to words.

  The letter ‘H’ was already at the top of the white door and that’s what she must have seen moving. Other letters such as the ‘L’ and the ‘E’ were extracting themselves from her mother’s reminders to buy milk and eggs. A ‘P’ began pushing other letters out of the way as if it knew that it was needed, and once unencumbered it raced to join the other three letters.