The Blue Witch

I’m not asleep.  I’m definitely not asleep this time.

Am I?

How do you tell?  Jon at school says you can control your dreams, and he can fly in his, and he can escape things whenever they attack him, but I can’t.  At least I haven’t been able to.

Dad says he dreams things but doesn’t know whether it’s a dream or not, like sometimes he thinks he’s told me off for something mad, like climbing on top of the house and throwing bananas or something, and in the morning he looks oddly at me and now I know what that look is for.  He’s wondering if he really did have to tell me off or whether it’s just a dream.  I wonder if I should do something mad some day just to make him confused, but I probably won’t.  Most of what he told me would be properly mad, not just a bit fun.

Is she coming in tonight?

Have I missed her?

She’s usually in before midnight, and I always wake up.  I’m already awake, though, so maybe she’s come and I didn’t notice, or maybe she’s finally leaving me alone.  I hope so.  She’s been coming for so long I can’t remember how long it’s been.

Mum will say I’m being stupid.  She shouted at me when I had a bad dream before, and said I was just making it up to spend more time downstairs.  I can’t remember if that was true or not.  I suppose I might have done.  But she still shouted at me, and that made me scared whether or not I was having a bad dream.

The door is creaking.

Oh please don’t take me.  Please don’t take me.  Please don’t take me.

I can see the flash of blue.  I am trying to move, but I can’t.  I can see the hints of blue round the door.  Please let me move.  Let me run away.  Let me escape, or scream, or something.

Her hand is there, just on the edge of the door, but I can’t turn my head to see any more.  Why can’t I?  Has she done something to me?

She knows I’m awake, though, because she sighs and the blue disappears.

I lie here for a while, staring up at the ceiling.  I can hear something outside, but it’s different now.  It’s going away.  I’m safe again, at least for tonight, but I can’t sleep again yet.  My heart is pounding away.  Is that what she’s doing?  Is she trying to scare me to death?

I don’t know when I fell asleep again, but when I woke up the pillow was damp with sweat.  My hair felt all mucky.

I went to school as normal.

I knew she was coming back later, and I wanted to stay up later, maybe stay awake all night.  Would that stop her, or would she just come down here and find me?  Maybe I have to be alone or else she’d attack Mum and Dad?  What does she want?  Why does she want me?  Why can’t she just stay away?

Mum shouts at me again when I want to stay up later.  She says I’m “building my part up” when I go even a little bit slowly up the stairs.  She doesn’t know what’s waiting for me.  Maybe she doesn’t care.  Maybe she’s in league with the blue witch to take me away.  She doesn’t seem like that during the day – she’s nice then – but in the evenings she always gets grumpy and shouty.  I don’t like when she shouts at me, and I always seem to go to bed being shouted at.

I try to be good, but I don’t want to lie down in the dark.  I want the light on, and if Dad’s radio is on I don’t think the witch will come – she’ll think someone is around and leave me alone, so I always switch it on.  Mum gets cross and comes up and turns it back off again saying I’m not a baby and don’t need music to go to sleep.  That’s really unfair because Dad turns it on when he goes to bed, and starts snoring almost as soon as the radio starts, so he must be asleep.

He doesn’t have the witch coming, of course.

I’ve done my teeth, and Mum has tucked me into bed and given the same sigh she always gives when she’s trying not to say something about how I only make it harder for myself, or asking me why I have to make the end of the day so difficult.  It’s like when Dad complains when I get excited about a game and he stops it suddenly, usually when he’s just won a point or been really lucky, and I get cross with him and he says I ruined it and he wonders why we start at all.  I don’t know why adults can’t just tell me they want to finish soon and finish nicely, but they never seem to, and then they get cross at me for it.

Mum’s about to turn the hall light of and put the little nightlight in.  That clears the way for the witch.  It makes her know I’m there on my own.  When Dad comes up he thumps around and turns their bedroom light on for a bit, and the nightlight goes off.  I think they must switch it off then, because after that it’s completely dark.  At least I think it is.  The nightlight is always off in the morning when I get up, even when I get up really early and it’s still dark or when I go to the loo in the night.

Maybe Dad snoring scares her off.  It annoys Mum a lot.  She keeps joking about putting a pillow on Dad’s head to stop him.  I hope she’s joking.  They keep telling us at school that you don’t even joke about anything like that, because even playing around is dangerous.  I was wanting to use a bag as a mask once and Miss Scott went completely mad and sent me to the headmaster.  Mum was cross that afternoon when she picked me up and they told her, but she still jokes about it.  It doesn’t make any sense to me.

I hear Mum’s footsteps going away and some quiet voices downstairs.  They’ll be talking about me, I suppose.  Mum will be telling Dad how I didn’t do what I was told when I was getting ready for bed, yet again.

Why don’t they understand?

Why don’t they see the witch coming in?

Are they helping her?

I’m lying here again when I see, clearer tonight, the fingers coming round the door.  They grab hold, just above the doorknob, and pull it a little to open it, just a little way.  There’s that flash of blue again as the face looks round the door.  I can’t look directly.  I know she’ll turn me to stone, or kill me straight away.  I have to look up at the ceiling, and I can’t move again.  Why can’t I move?  I want to scream, but I can’t.

She makes that noise – the same noise she makes every night – like she’s preparing something.  Maybe a spell or something.  Maybe she’s going to take me away tonight, and I’ll never see any of my friends again.  Why does she have to keep visiting me?

I want to shut my eyes, but I can’t.  If I do, she’ll take me now.  I know she will.

She makes that breathing sound, and disappears.  I hear Dad coming up the stairs.  Did he see her?  He must have seen her.  I can tell him about her, and he’ll understand.  He’ll know what to do to get rid of witches.

I still can’t move, or I’d get up and tell him.  He’s probably battling her right now, if she’s still here.  He’s probably banishing her.  Either that or she’s escaped already.  Maybe just seeing him is enough.  Why can’t I go to bed later and I’d be safe?

Why can’t I move?

In the morning I remember, and I know I have to tell Dad, but he’s going before I get down to breakfast.  He grabs my head, gives me a quick half-cuddle, and says he’s got to go.  I start trying to tell him, but he looks like he’s going to get cross straight away and leaves, locking the door behind him.  I wish he wouldn’t do that – it’s like he doesn’t trust me not to run out into the road.  I wouldn’t do that.  I did that once, and I know how stupid it was.  They shouted at me.  Both of them shouted at me that day, and told me how stupid I was.  I’m not stupid.  I don’t think I’m stupid.

Dad gets home a little late, and he looks tired, but I want to talk to him anyway.  He sits down with a cup of tea and I decide it’s now or never.  I have to tell him about the witch.  He scared her off last night, after all.  He can scare her off again for me.  Every night.  Could he do that?  Could he scare her off every night, and let me sleep safely?

I start to talk to him, really calmly, trying to make it sound as real as I can, because I know how he gets sometimes when he thinks I’m making things up, and he listens for a little while, although I know he’s not paying as much attention as I’d like because he’s also flicking through a magazine.

I tell him about the witch leaning round the door and wanting to take me away, and he looks over, finally a little interested.  He asks me when this happens, and I tell him what I know – that it’s after I’ve gone to bed, and after Mum has turned the radio off, but before he comes up and starts…  I stop before I say snoring, because he doesn’t like to be told he snores, but he guesses.

He asks me a little about the witch, about how tall she must be, and what she looks like.  I think these are odd questions to ask about a witch, when surely he should be taking me more seriously and promising to come up and scare her away, but I try to answer as well as I can, looking as serious as I can.

Just as I finish, he bursts out laughing.  “Honestly,” he says.  “Wait ‘til I tell your mother.”

I can’t stand it.  He’s laughing at me when I’ve just been more honest than I’ve ever been about anything, and when I need him more than I’ve ever needed him, and now I know he’s in league with the witch and they all hate me and want rid of me, and I don’t care any more.  I jump down from the table and run upstairs, slamming my door behind me and getting straight into bed.  I don’t care it’s dark now.  I don’t care if she gets me tonight.  I don’t care if Dad doesn’t.

I can feel myself crying, but I don’t want to cry.  I want to be angry.  I hate them.

Mum comes up and opens the door and gives me a hug.  She asks what’s happened.  Dad hasn’t told her the funny news then, I suppose.  I don’t give her much of a hug, although I want to.  She goes away, cross again that I haven’t hugged her properly, but leaves the door a little open, and plugs in the nightlight as usual.

I can hear voices downstairs as normal, but this time there’s laughter.  They’re not just talking about me now, they’re laughing at me.

Maybe they’re right to lock the door.  Maybe they know I have to run away, to escape this stupid house.

The hand appears, but this time I don’t care.  The witch can have me for all I care.  In fact I want her to take me away.  Anything is better than this.

She moves further into the room this time, and I regret what I was thinking.  Maybe that’s what she wants – to be invited in.  I start getting panicky now, because she’s never moved further into the room before.  That blue sleeve is there, clearly in the light behind her now, and the hand is reaching further inside.  How does she know?  Has she set all this up?  What’s going to happen to me?

She moved ever further forward, but I still can’t turn my head or look away.  I can’t move.  I want to move.  I want to scream.

I see her, coming closer, making that breathing noise she makes, closer and closer, until I begin to make out a face.

“Darling,” she says, leaning over me.  “I didn’t know I was waking you.”

She leans down and kisses me on the forehead.  I see her blue dressing gown brush across my face.

I shut my eyes, and sleep carries me away in an instant.

The witch does not return.