Misty Morgan Witch of Elphame

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©Text and Images C. J. Delahay

Edited

by

Ginger Fyre Press & Bekki Milner

GINGER FYRE PRESS UK

Typesetting © Ginger Fyre Press

March 2022

Ginger Fyre Press is an imprint of

Veneficia Publications

Misty Morgan

Witch of Elphame

C. J Delahay

Introduction

Outside the window, a strong gale blows,

The glass rattles in its frame.

Whistling wind seeps through the gaps

Calling out her name.

The rusty lamp flickers, the light goes dim,

There’s a shadow on the windowsill.

A waft of sweetness kisses her nose

As she lies shivering in the chill.

Beyond the window the moon is full,

It shines with a silver glow.

Its shimmering light smiles down

On bleak streets and concrete below.

From the darkened hallway

The clock ticks away time,

The pendulum swinging

Awaiting the chime.

Tick … tick … tick … tick

The clock beats with her heart,

Misty! She hears her name,

It’s now the time to start …

CHAPTER 1

To guess the exact time would be impossible, or so she thought. She could hear the rhythmic sound of the old grandfather clock tick tock-ing in the hall, echoing in her ears. It was much louder now, as during the daytime she never noticed it at all.

I guess, hmm, ten minutes to ten, she said to herself, biting her lip, hoping this time she would be right.

She rose from the creaky pull-out bed in the living room and tiptoed out to the hallway, being careful not to cause any noise that could disturb her father Robert in the next room.

Yes! She shrieked loudly. For the first time in her twelve years, she saw the second arrow touch the golden number ten, meeting the already present arrow on the same sparkly number. She jumped on the spot whilst stretching both arms into the air in jubilation. The feeling of accomplishment lasted approximately thirty seconds, if that, as she heard the roaring voice of her father and heavy footsteps heading toward the door.

Misty? Her heart sank as she crept quietly back to her makeshift space, which in fairness was only a metre or two away but seemed like a mile.

What are you doing? Get back to bed, NOW! Her father’s voice almost knocked her off her delicate but grubby feet and her heart sank with each booming beat.

She scuttled into the living room, flung herself onto her bed and grabbed the thin duvet, yanking it over her entire body with just the top of her head and a few ginger wisps of hair poking out, and pretended to be asleep. She waited for the vibration of the footsteps, then the bed shook as the door to the living room flung open. She squeezed her eyes shut, tensed her whole body, and waited.

What have I told you? Said her father angrily. Her eyes were still shut but she knew he was stood at the foot of the bed. Sit up and look at me, NOW!

She did what she was told. Staring down at her with bleary eyes, beer bottle in his left hand and his right, clenched in a tight fist, stood her father. The lecture that followed was just noise to her, feelings of anger boiled in her chest, and she could almost feel her heart pop right through her night shirt. But to keep the peace and avoid any further argument, she promised she would go straight to sleep and not disturb him again.

The door slammed shut and again she was alone. The murmuring sounds of conversation in the room next to hers was distracting, she knew he was on the phone to someone and wondered for a moment if it was Mum. So, she put her ear against the wall and listened intently. His voice was low and sounded serious. She heard him mention her name, then her brother Michael, then silence but for the clinking of another beer being opened. She sighed and laid back down on the bed. She hadn’t seen Mum or Michael for five years and the memories of them were fading as fast as the hope of ever seeing them again. All she had left were a few old photos and some boxes of Mum’s things in the basement. She rarely, if ever, went down there. She told herself it was better that she forgot them, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t dream about them. But to dream she had to sleep, and so it was better to stay awake.

Misty lay there thinking about the clock in the hall, the only reminder of the cottage in the countryside that she’d shared with Mum, Dad and Michael, her happy place. The place she called home. Dad had lugged that clock around with them with each move they’d made since leaving there five years ago, and there’d been many moves, each one as bad as the last.

What was that? She thought, a sudden noise jolted her from her memories. There seemed to be something moving outside her window. She sat up and although the curtains were drawn they were thin, and she could just about make out the shadow of something outside on the ledge. She thought it looked like a cat, at least she hoped it was, otherwise what was it? Then she heard a little meow and a tap-tap-tap on the glass. She considered her options for a moment, staying in bed safe from harm or discovering the mystery beyond the curtain and potentially getting another ear bashing. Her inquisitive mind won over and before she could talk herself out of it, she was out of bed and peeling back the curtains.

The cat on the windowsill looked at her. Their eyes met and she had the strangest feeling that she had seen this cat before. But where? When? She could not recall, yet the cat did seem very familiar.

Hello puss she whispered softly, careful not to alert her father again. How did you get here? Silly fatty puss. She felt warm inside, her fears evaporating into the night sky. The cat stared at her but without moving his mouth he spoke, she heard the words, clear as day.

Hello Misty.

Her eyes were wide now, her heart felt like it had stopped beating and she froze on the spot.

I’m Shadow, the cat said, the glass that separated them now glistening in the moonlight.

Pleased to meet you Shadow, she replied. She did not know why she responded that way, the words just fell out of her mouth. What she really wanted to say was How come you can talk and how did you get on my window ledge when it's six floors up?!

I have something for you Misty, said the cat, and with a mischievous smile he was gone. A cool breeze followed, which caused goose bumps on her arms, the back of her neck prickled, and her nose was tickling too. Then she sneezed, and a wonderful calm came over her. Her eyes became heavy, and with a sigh she settled back to bed.

Misty woke the next morning feeling surprisingly rested. She smiled to herself as she remembered the cat on her windowsill, and she wondered if he had really spoken to her or if she had imagined it? Since leaving home she frequently had restless nights and when she did sleep her dreams caused her to wake in a pool of sweat. Because of this she often struggled to stay awake in class. Her father had come down on her like a ton of bricks, fed up with the phone calls from Mr Lockwood telling him she had fallen asleep again. However today felt different, but more importantly she felt different.

She went to the window and opened the curtains. There was nothing to see apart from the grey tower blocks surrounding the building, but then something caught her eye. There was something on the window ledge outside. She opened the window and picked up a feather the size of her hand, black and glossy with a subtle green-blue sheen. She brought it inside and quickly shut the window as quietly as she could. She held it between her fingers and brushed it against her cheek. It tickled. She sniffed it and it immediately reminded her of home. She could smell apple and cinnamon, maybe some nutmeg too, yes it reminded her of her favourite food, her mum’s homemade apple crumble. She sniffed it one more time and shed a tear, then she wiped her eyes and put the feather in her school bag.

While Misty got ready for school, her father was still in bed sleeping off the beer. So, she made herself some breakfast: stale cornflakes and milk, ironed her skirt, combed her hair, and brushed her teeth with just water as they had run out of toothpaste. Then she got herself dressed and decided she would guess the time again. Eight thirty-three, she thought and checked the clock on her way out. She smiled to herself; she was definitely on a roll.

CHAPTER 2

Misty didn’t like school. She found it a struggle and she often got told off for day dreaming.

Although a naturally bright child, since moving to Willowbrook High School she had struggled to concentrate. Her grades were poor and according to Mr Lockwood the Head Teacher, she wasn’t expected to amount to much.

The journey to school was also a struggle. Firstly, there was a fifteen-minute walk to the bus stop, then a ten-minute bus ride which took her close to the school gates. Misty would pass other children laughing and shoving each other, mainly in play, although some of the meaner children would tease the smaller ones, the smarter ones, or the ones that looked, well, different. She would dread this journey and tried to leave home early to avoid the bullies, keeping her head down and her guard up, and hoping she would make it without any trouble.

Since moving to the estate nearly a year ago, she had not found it easy to make friends instead finding herself a target for the bullies, mainly girls but some of the boys too. Although she was tall for her age, she wasn’t the tidiest girl. Her clothes were second hand, her hair was a tangled array of unruly ginger curls, which despite her attempts at styling it had a mind of its own, and her teeth needed braces, but her father had not got around to taking her to the dentist. Neither did he encourage her to maintain her appearance, he was too distracted with money, or the lack of it, to bother with such things.

There had been a few scuffles with a particular group of girls who were cruel about her appearance, calling her ugly or weird, and on more than a few occasions she had been pushed to the point of losing her temper and had struck out. The group of bullies had run off laughing and she had gone home with cuts and bruises, ripped clothes and snotty tear-stained cheeks. With nobody at home to guide or comfort her it was becoming harder to cope with, which made her miss her mum and brother even more.

 However, today she found herself skipping along and humming a tune to herself, a tune she had never heard before and yet she had woken up with it in her head, and it was an ear worm she couldn’t get rid of. She got off the bus distracted, humming the tune and didn’t notice the small group of boys casually walking together in front of her until she bumped into one of them, almost knocking him over.

Oops, sorry," she said as she moved quickly out of the way, bracing herself for an altercation, until she realised it was Charlie.

Charlie was her neighbour and he had been really friendly to her since she moved in, she almost considered him a friend.

You seem happy today! he said, his toothy grin gleaming. What’s happened? Won the lottery or something? They always liked to talk about what they would do if they won loads of money, getting away from the estate was first on their list.

Ha! I wish! She said with a smile, then she realised she was already at the school gates although she couldn’t remember getting there. I just have a good feeling about today, wanna race? She said, nudging his arm. They both bolted to the main door, the other kids moving sideways to let them pass, Misty got there first and stood there panting and smiling until Charlie caught up.

Cheat, he said with a smile.

Bad loser, she said back, both giggling and trying to catch their breath.

OI! cut it out you two, no running in the yard! They heard the headteacher Mr Lockwood shout sternly.

Catch you at break, Mystery. Charlie said as he winked at her and quickly headed to class. Mystery was his nickname for her, which seemed to suit her as he claimed she didn’t give much away.

It was true that she didn’t talk about herself, she’d rather not, but that didn’t seem to matter as they had a few things in common. They both lived in the same neighbourhood and shared a similar twisted sense of humour, and they liked to race.

First lesson was biology. Misty wasn’t a fan but did enjoy some of it. She showed a natural affinity with animals, apart from rats. Misty hated rats, they made her skin crawl and the thought of their snaky tails, eugh! They were nasty.

Today children, we will be learning about evolution, including natural and artificial selection announced Miss Grim, biology’s dullest teacher, ever. Grim by name, Grim by nature she thought, a term she had picked up from Charlie, he was so funny, she chuckled to herself.

As Miss Grim proceeded to inform the class about the marvellous Mister Darwin, she found herself thinking about the mysterious experience of last night. The cat sat on her windowsill, black as night, with those sparkly green eyes. What was his name? That’s right, Shadow, she smiled to herself, yes, he talked, actually talked! He said he had something for me. Then she remembered the feather. As she sat there daydreaming, she wondered if she might be going a bit crazy. She hadn’t been sleeping that well lately and maybe it was making her see things. She’d heard the doctors who took her mum away say she was mentally ill. What if she was too? No, it definitely happened, I’m not mad, she thought.

Waiting for Miss Grim to turn her back she rummaged in her bag, there it was! She rubbed it between her fingers and sniffed,

Apple crumble! Yes, Shadow left me a pudding smelling feather. She