Marla Medizza and the Miopsa mirror. Chapters six, seven, and eight.

Chapter six.

Farewell or goodbye.

‘Marla, the car is here,’ whispers a voice, waking her from a nightmare-filled slumber.

Her eyelids yank open to the day of the unknown. The diamond-encrusted satin of night is replaced by cobalt sky. Bella is crouching next to Marla’s bed. Marla hoists herself free of her bedcovers and drowns in a cover of despair as they descend the staircase. She listens to the birdsong, a harmony that normally signalled a sense of immense joy within her. Today a shrill warning about the onset of her unknown expedition. She opens the front door to witness the black Rolls Royce parked a few feet from the garden gate. The motor has grabbed the attention of the usual suspects on Palladium avenue. Marla sighs and closes it. She presses her back against the wooden surface as anxiety grips her by the throat, suffocating her.

‘Marl, everything is going to be alright. We need you to be strong.’

‘I am alright, Bell, it is... just ignore me, it doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s have breakfast,’

Marla realises she has lied to Bella once again. Right now, though, she needs to gather every ounce of resolve and face the day that lay ahead of her.

She grasps her younger sister’s hand as they wander into the kitchen.

‘Rice Krispies girls?’

‘Yes, please Mam.’

‘Where is Stella?’

‘Nursing a hangover, no doubt. You know what she is like when she spends most of the night out with her friends.’

They sit. Mum purses her lips, blowing on her cup of tea. The crunching of cereal echoes through the unusual silence. Marla stares into the distance for a few moments, before shifting her attention.

‘Mam, do you think everything will be alright?’

‘I do darling, you are stronger than you believe,’ she responds, placing her hand on Marla’s and squeezing. This moment, in her mind at least, a single flash in time between mother and daughter offers a brief glimpse of calm. Unfortunately, it was short-lived. Their visual embrace is taken away by the sound of a herd of elephants shaking the stairs and hurtling through the kitchen door.

‘Rice Krispies Stella?’

‘Ugh, no thanks, I need water and plenty of it.’

‘You stink, like a brewery.’

‘Whatever Marla!’

‘Please can we quit this today, today of bloody days?’

‘I apologise, Mam,’ Marla mumbles.

‘Sorry Mam,’ groans Stella, plopping herself onto a chair and pressing her hands into her temples. Her arrival is met with a prescription of grim silence. For the next thirty minutes, the four of them perch, gawk, and eat. Consonants and vowels for now at least serve no purpose. Each of them, whether they care to admit it, recognises Marla’s quandary. This is the occasion that sibling conflict is swept under the kitchen linoleum. Four minus one does not equal three. It equals great sadness and even Stella, arrogance or not, identifies this.

Sunlight blasts through the kitchen window, hitting Marla’s spoon as she contemplates life, the universe, and her solitary voyage. She still could not figure out why she was nominated to have her head cut from her body. She accepts she had done wrong in the past, but nothing harsh enough to result in decapitation.

Her formative years had invariably been muted, awkward, and shy. She adopted a lone passage through her life. Back then, the last thing she demanded was to be the centre of attention. A characteristic that on one momentous day led to her targeted by Millicent Smith, the infamous bully. Maybe this was her punishment for the event that occurred on August nineteenth, 1981, in the school canteen as she queued patiently for her turn at the hatch. Maybe she had to pay for what transpired that afternoon, even though she considered it not her fault. An interlude when Marla was pushed too far. On the occasion Millicent Smith physically knocked her out of the way, attempting to jump the queue.

‘Move, hop along.’

The canteen on that fateful day transformed from bedlam to acute silence in the time it took for Marla to utter three words.

‘Do you mind?’

‘What did you say, runt?’

‘You heard me, Millicent.’

‘Marla Medizza, the disabled weirdo, speaking to me. Do you know who I am?’

‘Yes, and so does the rest of the school, Millicent. You are a bully, a cruel, nasty piece of work. Preying on people who may be different. You strut around pretending you own the place, you are nothing but a coward, you don’t intimidate me!’

‘Get her, Millicent, don’t let her speak to you with that tone!’ snorts one of her evil minions.

‘You are going to find it difficult to eat lunch with no teeth peg leg.’

‘Maybe, I will Millicent, but today, in our school canteen, will be the last day you bully me. You can knock my teeth out, I don’t care. I shall willingly have no teeth than listen to you and the crap that spills from your mouth. You see to me, you are nothingness, something less than ear wax, you are a dinosaur Millicent and when we finally leave school, you will be lost.’

‘What are you talking about cripple, lost how?’

‘There will be nobody left for you to bully. You will live a pathetic existence alone, just you and your vile ways, so take your best shot, Millicent.

‘What?’

‘You heard me. Take your best shot, bully!’

The events that transpired that day were a reckoning. She took the upper hand as Millicent flung her bulky frame at her. She crouched, pushing out her leg, catching Millicent, who was sent hurtling through the air straight into the wall, knocking out her two front teeth. The students applauded as the bully yelped for her mummy. Before that point in time, she was never a fighter, she just did not appreciate bullies. That day Millicent and her minions dissolved into the distance. That was not their last meeting. Their paths crossed again a year after they graduated school. Millicent had turned her back on malice and bullying. Choosing to work for the Samaritans. Many say if that time had never occurred, life could have been different. Both became remarkably close friends. It aided Marla. It taught her that occasionally you have no choice but to stand up and be counted.

Marla knew that today and the days to follow, she realised once again to face her fear. The difference was, her bully, this time, was her own anxiety.

‘Okay, I am finished, thank you for breakfast Mam,’ Marla groans.

She drags herself from the kitchen chair and walks the alligator-infested waters to her bedroom to prepare her fate. There is a knock at the door.

‘Do you need any help packing Marl?’

‘No, it’s alright sis, I have finished anyhow.’

Bella studies the look in Marla’s eyes. It is distant and sad looking. Marla stares out of the familiar window, cradling the Teddy bear her Dad bought for her on the day she was born. She turns to her younger sister and smiles.

‘I admire you so much Bell.’

Bella runs toward her and holds on to her. ‘I love you Marl, so very much.’

‘Hey, may I come inside?’

‘Of course, you may.’

‘I just wanted to know how much I adore who you are. I am proud of you, Marla. Knowing you are making this journey alone. But I walk by your side in spirit. You are in my heart and mind until you return. I shall place a protective bubble around you, it will help you.’

‘Thanks, Mam, but I am not sure that is going to work this time.’

Mum gasps, ‘You are right darling, but appease me. I want you to take these with you,’ she requests, placing three miniature bottles into Marla’s palm.

‘What are these?’

‘They are potions, Marla. Draughts remained shut away for decades. When I practiced witchcraft, I became adept, following the instructions to the letter. I constantly presumed I did not need to dig them from the darkness.’

‘What do they do?’

‘Okay well, the green one is an invisibility elixir, when consumed you are invisible for two minutes. The red bottle, a fire-breathing potion. When drunk, your mouth shall exhale a torrent of fireballs. Just make sure you eat a mint afterward; your breath will stink.’

‘Two minutes?’

‘Yes, again, it lasts for the same duration. The third, the black potion, is the deadliest. I call it the decimator. I came up with that title, I am extremely impressed with it, very apt.’

‘That’s great, Mam, but what does it do?’

‘Ah yes, okay, if you are besieged, not that you will be. These draughts are very much a ‘just in case’ thing. Where was I? Oh yes, if you are surrounded, throw it toward your enemy.’

‘You don’t know what it does, do you, Mam?’

‘Not precisely darling, but according to the potion book, a powerful elixir.’

‘Thanks, I will guard it with my life.’

‘I have jotted important telephone numbers for you, Uncle Albert. He owns a lodge near the Lake District. A friend of mine, Argyle Tarmacadem, who lives just outside Edinburgh, contact them if you find yourself, well, you know, in dire trouble. Not that you will of course, better to take precautionary measures.’

‘Thanks, Mam, this feels so surreal,’ utters Marla, slumping onto her bed next to her younger sister and staring at the potion bottles.

‘I mean, fire breathing, invisibility, and whatever the decorator one does, it’s madness.’

‘Decimator darling.’

‘Yes, okay, whatever you say.’

‘I appreciate this has come as a shock to you, Marla. I too see life can be more surreal than real. Yet we Medizza women are tough, you are strong Marla, tougher than you realise.’

‘Take this,’ requests mum handing Marla a parcel of brown paper.

‘Wow, Mam, what is it, more potions?’

‘No darling, cheese Sandwiches and a packet of ready salted crisps for the drive.

‘Oh, okay, thanks, Mam,’ she mutters, propping her head into her palms.

‘Hey, young lady, you listen to me. Everything is going to work out for the better. You are fastidious and intelligent darling; you must believe in yourself. I will watch over you each step of the journey. I shall die before letting anybody harm my girls. We love you Marla, more than you could ever realise.’

‘Even Stella Mam?’

Mum sighs, ‘Yes, even Stella.’

They hug. She inhales her mum’s scent for a fractional moment. She is safe again, from every evil that lurks in the deepest recesses of her mind. But she knows the embrace will soon end.

‘I am sad he left you.’ Marla whimpers as an individual teardrop descends her cheek.

‘Who, Dad?’ asks mum, wiping her teardrops with the sleeve of her jumper.

‘Yes, you did not deserve it to happen. It breaks my heart that you are lonely.’

‘I am not alone. I have you three, you keep me busy enough.’

‘You know what I mean, Mam.’

‘Listen, I am happy. Each of you brings so much joy into my life, I do not have any room for anything else, plus Ted too.’

The bedroom door swings open as a white four-legged fluff ball jumps onto the bedcovers.

‘Ah, Teddy, I love you,’ beamed Marla, clutching him.

‘Look, you will be back in no time, and we shall be right here waiting for you.’

‘Thanks, Mam, I hope so.’

‘Make sure you pack clean knickers,’ whispers mum as she strolls out of Marla’s room.

‘Yes, I hear you. How could I forget? God forbid my head should be chopped off and I am not wearing freshly laundered pants.’

Marla flops onto the bed beside four-legged friend.

‘I wish you could speak, Teddy,’ she remarks, staring into his chocolate eyes. He does not reply, choosing to scratch his ear and lick her face instead.

‘Look after Mam and my sisters for me while I am gone.’

She holds herself close to Teddy, nuzzling her cheek into his fur. Recognising that at this moment she must walk this unknown peril. The butterflies in her stomach are her alarm clock to begin a new trek to terror and turmoil. She takes a sharp breath, yanks her body from the warmth and safety of her devoted pooch, and walks out of the bedroom in search of her mum and younger sister.

‘Money, darling,’ insists mum rustling through her pocket. She rests her palm on mum’s shoulder. ‘I don’t need it mam honestly.’

‘Please Marla, take it, I want you too.’

‘I will be home soon, a couple of days tops, I assure you.’

Her Mum trembles, choosing not to show her eyes to her daughter, to imprison her fear. Marla places her hand on her cheek. She turns, cheeks awash with salted sadness.

‘I’m sorry, I wanted to be strong for you, darling.’

Marla embraces her mum. For what could be the last moment. The revolution of each minute halts as time stops to encore a perfect union of daughter and mother, locked in a sublime embrace.

‘Mam, I am going out. See you later, hot potater!’ yells Stella as the moment between them both is fractured.

Mum hands over the keys, a map containing directions to her Great Aunt. Your Uncle Albert and the home of Argyle Tarmacadam. They hug, briefly this time, one second longer, and Marla could not leave. She pulls away and places a gentle kiss on her Mum’s cheek, her lips are met with a salty river of teardrops.

‘I am a big girl now Mam, I am planning on returning as soon as I have what is needed. Pinkie promise.’

Big or not, the truth is she wants to run back inside the house, climb into her bed and push the covers over her head until this disappears forever. But, unlike the teardrops fallen from her eyes, it will take more than a gentle dab of a tissue to clean up this calamitous conundrum.

‘Always my little girl in my heart, darling, nothing shall ever change that,’ whispers her Mum, pulling her in close again. She is met by another powerful sense of warmth as she gives in to rapture. At this moment, the clocks stop, birds mute and the world is set on pause. She gasps and closes her eyelids, pressing herself into her mum’s bosom. Bella ambles into the kitchen and joins them in their embrace.

‘Please do not leave Marl,’ she whispers.

‘Hey, listen to me, sis, I am coming back, I guarantee. I am confident everything is going to be good.’ She wasn’t, of course, positive that is. She did not want her younger sister worrying about her.

‘One other thing before I leave, Bell, don’t let Stella get her grubby hands on the record player,’ dictates Marla with a wry smile.

‘I won’t Marl, you can count on me.’

‘Right, come on, enough of this. I am going to be back in a day or so and this nonsense is likely to be over, agreed Mam?’

She observes her mum, waiting for positive confirmation. The pause between them lasts an eternity.

‘Yes, yes, of course, you shall be my darling. I will order your favourite, Chinese takeaway when you return.’

‘See Bell, no need to worry.’

‘Is Stella?’

Mum shakes her head and sighs.

‘Bella, be a wonderful sister and fetch Marla’s suitcase and pop into the back of the car.’

‘Okay Mam, I am on it,’ she beams, exiting the kitchen.

Marla waits until her younger sister is out of earshot.

‘Where is she?’

‘Who knows, out with friends, nursing a hangover. I think we know how she gets, especially when trying to hide her emotion.’

‘Yeah, sure Mam.’

She gasps as they both head outdoors. She looks at her street, the place she has spent her years growing. Memories of playing outside with her friends fill her mind. She smiles, the warmth of the sun beating on her brow.

‘A perfect day to die,’ she mumbles.

Marla turns to them both, Bella is holding onto her Mum’s arm, both their faces awash with sadness.

‘This is it, then. Will you say goodbye to Stella for me, Mam?’

‘Of course, darling I promise, come here.’

The embrace once again, a brief interlude.

‘Okay, I better be on my way.’

She gasps before opening the car door and flopping onto the driver’s seat. She turns to her left. Bella is weeping. Mum is doing her best to keep her emotions in check. She can sense the dread inside her attempting to flood her eye ducts. Realising now is the time to stay resolute and keep her emotions in check.

A quick offering of a smile and waves open the gate to her journey. Driving the Rolls Royce away from the kerbside, she does not look back, she cannot. If her eyes were to happen across them both in the rear view mirror, she could not leave. One more glance will break her heart.

‘What the hell am I doing, I am a girl from Manchester. I am not a superhero. Oh well, here goes girl, let’s do this.’ She mutters.

In her formative years, she played a game with her friends. It comprised them leaping into the unknown from a tree branch in the dark of night. Occasionally, you landed safely on the ground. But sometimes splash into the babbling brook, which was wet, frigid, and unpleasant. Like the childhood leap of faith, she is jumping into the darkness. Once again, she did not know whether she may land on the safety of the drudgery or plummet feet first into something far more sinister.

Chapter seven.

Strange strangers.

Marla stares forward aimlessly. The lampposts sweep past her vision as she travels the road. The intensity from the sun blended with the burnished leather of the seats emits an oily odour. Marla’s heart sinks again as the self-made cloak of bravado slips from her and falls into the footwell. A hand in her periphery grabs her attention. She glances to witness her elder sister standing on the pavement edge. She brings the vehicle to a halt and steps out, walking toward her.

‘So?’

‘So, Stella?’

‘You are leaving then, on this journey, to preserve your head?’

‘I have no options if I want to survive this ordeal.’

‘Good luck then.’

‘Yep, thanks.’

There is a brief pause, an uneasy moment of not knowing what to do next between them both. Marla sighs, turning her back, striding toward the parked car. She is tugged backward. She turns, Stella hugs her tightly. The feeling is odd to her, being hugged by her elder sister. It is tender and loving. It discharges an aching inside her, an unrequited love as she wraps her arms. Swiftly, the occasion is over, as they both release their grip.

‘Go on then, bugger off, you have a long journey. I will be late for my manicure.’

‘Thank you, sis, look after mum and Bell.’

In that split second, each argument, every tug on the taught rope had been washed away like algae on the wave. Marla stares at her, noting her expression, one she has not received for a long time. Unadulterated love and caring, with a hint of concern thrown in for good measure.

‘Off you trot, get going,’ demands Stella, yearning the moment to end before the violins play.

‘I will see you soon sis, I care for you.’

Marla climbs back into the driver’s seat, taking a last glance at her once revered enemy, who is desperately and discreetly trying to wipe at her eyes. God forbid Stella might want her younger sister to know she cares for her. The story would be plastered over the front pages of the media.

‘Okay, here we go.’ she whined, twisting the ignition key as three tons of steel roared into life, like a lion from waking from the shadows and entering the dawn.

Marla will ride this beast. She cannot falter, no matter what happens. She must forget her family for the moment being and cross the plains in search of an oasis of answers.

‘Music,’ she mutters, fidgeting with the knob on the wireless.

The glow of the sunshine warms her face as she settles on the expedition ahead. She reflects on her life, her moments of bliss with her mum and dad, the joyous time they spent together. She speculates that moment with Stella a couple of minutes ago. It was how it used to be when they were children. They were super tight, two peas in a pod as their mother named them.

Marla blamed her for how matters progressed between them. Now, as she sat alone with the highway her only ally, she realised that this was not the case. She too had changed, dishing out a plethora of malicious remarks aimed at her elder sister. She did not recall when or why the war between them began, but it did. The embrace by the roadside filled her with the hope of a new relationship, but the regret of what had gone. Leaving her was as difficult as abandoning her mum and Bella. If at any point a big sister was needed, this moment was that occasion.

‘I could do without this bullshit!’ she snaps.

To her, everything symbolising this journey felt nerve-wracking, surreal, and downright unfair. Not wanting to wish something this frightening on anyone, or herself. If anybody told her yesterday morning, she would travel to her great aunt’s house in a Rolls Royce to stop her head from being hacked. She might have burst into fits of laughter. Maybe not, but she may well have not believed it. There were vacant seats in the car that day and three gaping voids in her heart. Only a trio of individuals could fill the people she said goodbye to for the last time.

The grizzly moment at her Nans had opened Pandora’s box, and she needed to find the key to stop Cornelius Darkus from escaping. She knew this was the precipice, the tip of a gruesome and frightening iceberg.

After a few hours, the rumble of the engine shifted into a splutter, the fuel gauge needle signalling time to feed the beast.

‘Great, I wonder how much cash it will take to fill this bloody thing,’ Marla grumbles.

A few miles later, she spots a gas station. With urgency, she pulls onto the forecourt. The place is desolate, which she deems remarkable for such a dense vehicle-crammed road. She exits the car and removes the four-star petrol nozzle, pushing it and pressing the lever. She glares at the parade of cars whizzing past, none of them slowing and entering. Part of her finds the moment unusual, and another side of her just shrugs it. The pump clicks. She replaces it and walks inside the kiosk to pay.

‘Good afternoon,’ she utters to the tall, skinny pallid-faced man behind the counter. He does not verbally respond. Choosing to glower in her direction. His blackened irises snap her into dread as they penetrate her. This poverty of verbal response adds another level of discomfort to an awkward moment.

‘Err, pump number two, may I pay please?’ she requests, rifling through her bag in search of salvation.

‘Ten pounds and twenty-one pence,’ He responds in a monotone fashion.

Marla rifles through her purse, pulling out coins and in panic losing grip as they crash to the floor. She gathers herself, picking up the coinage and sliding it onto the counter. Sensing his psychotic stare, his sneer of hatred. Snatching her receipt and dashes for the exit door. The car is still sitting alone on the forecourt as an infinite torrent of vehicles passes. Nobody is turning their head to glimpse at the petrol station. They just drive, in a zombie fashion.

She turns back to the cashier; he is staring, grinning; the expression in his eyes peeling the layers from her armour. Marla swiftly unlocks the car and slams the door. She takes one last glance at him through the rear view mirror; he has not moved, still smirking in her direction. She quivers, pushes on the accelerator, and carves her way into the traffic.

‘What the heck, bloody weirdo, could this day get any worse?’ she asks herself, looking back into the distance to see if any other cars are pulling into the petrol station. They aren’t.

The thunder of the two-ton beast is succeeded by the rumble of Marla’s empty gut.

‘I could kill for one of Mam’s bacon sarnies right now,’ she mutters, straining for the brown paper bag her mum gave to her before she left her house. Deciding now was the moment for sustenance, she pulls over in a layby a few miles up the road. Placing the package on her lap, removing the string, and pulling out a warm and soggy cheese sandwich. She stares at it, a pathetic and limp offering. The runt of the litter. Compared to the prowess of her favourite, this was depression-inducing. Realising needs must as she tentatively nibbles the edges of the bread.

Marla chews, staring at the cotton wool clouds that sat in a cobalt picture frame. She yawns, her eyelids heavy, weary from the drive. Pulling back the driver’s seat and stretching her legs, she studies the stitched fabric inside the roof of the car. She summons the moment she saw her severed head in the hand of Cornelius Darkus. She gasps, her stomach churns, as once again her plight is pointed out.

This is not a jolly visit to great aunt Elspeth. Nor a game she can withdraw from at any point. The uncertainty is absolute, and the thought of her surrendering her precious existence sends a chill through her spine. She may never get to see her mum or sisters again. She continually questions, why her, what had she done to deserve this miserable reality. Whatever the reason, everything that had gone before, by correlation, was now at least insignificant.

She sighs, fighting to hold on to her consciousness, and she forces the gruesome sandwich into her mouth. She listens to the sound of the birdsong on the breeze; it reminds her she is still alive. Feuds between herself and Stella, petty comparably. The regrets for everything nasty she had ever said to her elder sibling at the forefront of her mind. The cobalt framed picture is soon ousted by a dark smog covering the inside of her eyelids as her body gives in and she falls into a heavy dormancy.

She opens her eyes, her nasal passages dominated by putridity, the flesh on her arms scorched by flame. In the smoke billowing distance, a passageway. Smoke choking flames consuming the surrounding space. Her cotton dress, smoking, smouldering against her seared legs. She tries hopelessly to free herself from the iron shackles cutting to her ankle bone. Suddenly, a haunting wail forces her to pause. It is distant initially, but as the fires erupt and the heat intensifies, blistering her eyelids, she witnesses a sinister and freaky-looking shadow through the fires.

She screams, yanking at the chains, ripping the flesh from her foot, her bones visible. She spots her bag a few yards away, desperately arching her body to grasp her wand of magic. It is too far. The shadow becomes larger, rowdier, the noise unbearable. Her heart races. It is him, it’s Darkus holding a knife of steel. He shrieks at her, edging nearer. Her dress bursts into flames, she wails in agony, shouting for her mum, her sisters. Too late. She is burning; the pain is excruciating. Suddenly, the beast rushes toward her. His blood-red glare paralysing, as he hoists the dagger aloft and thrusts it downward, ripping the air close to her cheeks.

‘No, god no!’ she screeches, propelling herself forward in her seat.

‘Are you alright, young lady?’

She turns around, breathless, hot, and sweaty, focusing her eyes on the driver’s window. A police officer crouches behind the glass. Her racing heartbeat slows, she composes herself. It was a ghastly nightmare.

‘Yes, I am okay. I was exhausted so had a rest,’ she retorts, lifting herself from the cardinal covered car seat that sought to be her coffin in a subconscious and macabre reverie.

‘I was just checking on you. Hope you don’t mind?’

‘Thank you, I am alright, to a degree,’ she mumbles.

‘Where are you headed, young lady?’

‘I am on my way to visit my great aunt in the Isle of Muck. It is a small island off the coast of Scotland.’

‘Ah yes, I know it well, remote and charming.’

‘I have never been, but I am looking forward to it.’ Marla beams in the police officer’s direction.

Then an unusual expression cloaks his face. He stares at her and then into the back of the car. His eyes fixated on the back seat. She peers through the rear view mirror, wondering what has grabbed his attention.

‘Could you step out of the motor vehicle please, this will only take a minute.’

‘Why?’

‘I merely need you to exit the car, young lady, if you may be so kind.’

The tone in his expression had changed from friendly to angry and Marla senses immediate danger.

‘I prefer not to thank you. Have I done something unlawful? Am I under arrest?’

‘No, of course not, madam. I was hoping you would obey my instructions. I am an officer of the law.’

‘So, what if you are, I know my rights.’

The police officer looks uneasy, the strength in his voice higher pitched, frenzied. He is fidgeting, Marla is intimidated. She perceives darkness in him as she yanks her seatbelt across her waist and clicks it into place. Their meet had started as a friendly and natural exchange, but now a matter of life and death.

The officer is glowering, his skin now depleted of colour. She senses a moment of fight or flight and she is frantic to flee.

‘Am I free to be on my way?’

‘Well, err yes madam, you are free to leave but I just wondered if you-d step out of the car?’ he snaps insistently.

Suddenly, he snatches at the door handle. He looks annoyed, perturbed.

‘Take your bloody hands off this car right now. I said I am leaving and not hanging around, you are a bloody freak!’

‘Listen to me missy, open this bloody door at once, you stupid girl!’ he fumes, wrenching at the driver’s door. Marla holds onto the inside handle as he tugs and yanks in a frenzied manner.

Why are you doing this?’ she screeches, wrestling through her bag for the fob.

‘Get out of the car or die!’ he snorts.

‘No, I will not, leave me alone, you moron!’ she wails, yanking the key in the ignition and pressing on the accelerator, leaving the officer bathing in a cloud of dust.

She observes him through the rear view mirror, flapping his arms in the air like a maniac.

‘Bloody nutter, what the hell is wrong with people,’ she snaps, looking over her shoulder. Suddenly the azure lights on the roof flash as he advances toward her. Marla presses the accelerator, screaming as she tries desperately to get away from him. The cobalt hue of earlier the sky is now dark, ashen. Like dusk. A surge of blue light from the officer’s vehicle blazes the inside of the car and sends her into turmoil.

The air temperature plummets, rain changes to hail, pelting the glass as she drives faster and faster through the blizzard of ice and hailstone. Her hands, greasy with perspiration, the view out of the windscreen absent. The buzz of the police siren behind her is deafening and intimidating. The windscreen wipers, struggling to remove the debris, the roadway ahead obscured the steel beasts striving to clutch the icy surface.

She swerves the motor toward the tree line, coming to a crashing halt against a tree. Smacking her forehead and jolting backward against the ruby leather. The steel beast is dead, crumpled against wood and billowing with smoke. To her relief, the lunatic police officer has disappeared and apart from a knock on the head, she is alive.

‘Ugh,’ she whines, dabbing at her forehead. She tugs at the rear view mirror to analyse the damage to her face, and then she sees it. It is him, the man at the petrol station, his fang-filled gait snarling, his black eyes glowering at her. He is perched on her rear seat.

He lunges forward, grasping her throat, his taloned bony hand tearing at her collar. She kicks at the shattered door, thrusting it, and yanks herself away from his clutch. The temperature plummets as she yanks herself free, slipping on the icy stone surface.

Where once there was the music of birdsong and blue skies, now replaced blackened sky and the screams of a monster.

She glares in horror as the back door cracks from the hinge and crashes to the ground. The demonic being crawls from the burning wreck, peering round the back of the car and snarling at her. She wails, hauling herself from the frozen soil and lurching forward, sprinting as swiftly as her drained body will allow. She can detect his noxious stink and the heat of his scream on the back of her neck as she desperately seeks to elude him. He is gaining on her with each step she takes, the wailing louder, the heat of his gait more intense. Her life flashes before her eyes, her mum, Stella, their arguments. She yearns for her Dad, he’d protect her. This is it; this is the moment she will die. Sharp talons tear at her back. She collapses. Suddenly her arm is gripped, yanking her to the snow, to the blackness, to her ultimate resting place.

Chapter eight.

Fabulous with a B.

‘You are safe, nobody can cause you any harm now,’ states an unexpected and unfamiliar voice. Marla opens her eyes. A creature stands before her, small in stature, covered in fur, wide grinning chubby face, and antlers protruding from its head.

‘What is happening, where am I!?’ she exclaims, surging to her feet in sheer panic.

‘No need to be startled, young mortal. My name is Babulous. I saw your plight, thus I assisted you.’

‘What are you?’

‘I am an Elveer.’

‘A what?’

‘An elveer, part elf, part deer.’

Marla rubs her eyes and visually examines him.

‘Part elf, part deer, how the heck did that combination come to be. I am not being absurd, but how can an elf do its you know what’s with a deer, and why?’

The furry creature laughs for a few moments and then scratches his head. He shuffles his podgy body, awkwardly pondering Marla’s question.

‘When you put it that way, it does sound somewhat strange. I have never questioned my existence. I guess I am who I am.’

‘I must be trapped in a nightmare. One minute my life was ordinary and now I am the protagonist in a bloody dreadful, dark, miserable horror fest. I am dreaming or losing my mind.’

‘You are in shock. Everything you are experiencing is real. Please allow me,’ he responds by pinching her arm.

‘Ouch, that hurt!’

‘My sincerest apologies, I just wished to show you are not trapped in a dream state.’

She huffs and rubs at her skin. She studies Babulous; he is tubby, a tad annoying, and somewhat cute to behold.

She kneels before him, may I?’

‘Of course, young lady.’

She caresses his antlers. ‘They appear so real,’ she mutters in wonderment.

‘That is because they are. I have had them for many decades.’

‘Where am I, what is this place?’

‘A realm of safety dearest.’

“Moments before when I was driving, it snowed, but it’s summer. I learned the impact of global warming at school, but the dramatic change is absurd.’

Babulous bobbles across the dusty ground and presses on the wooden entranceway. ‘One question at a time Marla, take a look see.’

She pushes her head beyond the opening, the warm air bathing her cheeks. The sun once blazing against an intense cobalt canvas. A rich yellow fried egg upon a blue steel pan.

‘I am struggling to understand what’s happening. The snow has disappeared?’

‘I will shed light on the puzzle in front of you.’

She closes the entranceway. She feels nervous but compared to the evil that lay in wretched wake. Standing inside an unusual space with a furry antlered creature appeared the lesser of two evils. Her eyes follow him. His fur-laden bottom wobbles as he walks.

Babulous turns, catching her red-handed. She blushes, he giggles.

Descending a never-ending staircase. Marla runs her palms against the scaly bark as they plunge into the obscurity. She shudders, her arm trailing the rough walls makes her skin tingle.

‘I realise you may find this a stupid question, but are we inside a tree trunk?’

‘Indeed, we are, but an incredibly special kind. It is a fire oak. A sacred and powerful place, extremely important to creatures of our kind.’

‘Creatures, right,’ she mutters in a derisive tone.

The fire oak stands to grant safe passage and cannot be penetrated by anybody who is not true of heart. Once entered, you are unseen by those who seek to do you harm. You are imperceptible to the world.’

‘I hope you do not take this the wrong way, but you expect me to buy this nonsense?’

‘You are here Marla dearest, whether you choose to accept it.’

‘I may be here wherever that is and yes, I have encountered weird moments today. I draw the line at this gobbledegook.’

‘You are non-existent Marla.’

‘What the heck, what are you saying to me!?’

Her internal building blocks of anxiety, stacking each moment another stark revelation drops from his mouth.

‘For the time you stay within the trunk of a fire oak, you cease to exist in time and space. It is as if you had never been hatched. The tree does not move and nor is it invisible, we are a nothingness, a forgotten recollection.’

‘What you said went over my head, whoosh. I was not hatched, I am a woman, not a bloody bird!’

Babulous stops and turns to her. ‘Marla, your family, friends, the evil creature following you, do not remember you because here, in this dimension, you have not been born.’

‘I am so bewildered,’ she utters as they approach the last rung of the steps and enter a cramped and cosy, candlelit enclave.

‘Babulous, do you live in this place?’

‘No, Marla, but it’s home to anybody in dire need of escape. This realm offers sanctuary to those of good heart.’

‘Come, you must rest. I will prepare a pot of tea,’ he chimes, filling a kettle with water and placing it on the fire.

‘Milk and sugar?’

‘White with seven sugars please.’

‘This is surreal and wondrous at the same time. Never, ever did I expect to be sitting inside a tree trunk, sipping tea with a deer elf thing.’ Marvels Marla, removing her footwear and planting her prosthetic leg on the wooden counter. Babulous turns to her, expressing a look of sadness.

‘I am accustomed to taking this old thing off, putting it on. I forget it’s shocking to others.’

‘Relax, you are safe here with me.’

Marla is dumbstruck; she had often climbed trees when she was younger, but she had never sat inside a tree drinking tea with a miniature animal that speaks. She considers whether this day could get any more extraordinary as she perches observing Babulous stirring at the cups and whistling.

Suddenly something clicks in her brain.

‘You know?’

‘Pardon me?’

‘My name, you spoke it. I have not yet told you who I am.’

Babulous places a teacup before her and clambers, plonking himself onto a seat. He smiles and looks into her eyes.

‘I have followed your life path, Marla, from when you were a slight girl until now. You did not stumble across me or the fire oak by accident. I planted myself here to rescue you. I knew the exact point on this day that you raced past this tree.’

‘But how, how did you know?’

‘For the time being, let me say at this stage a little bird told me.’

‘You said you have known me from when I was much younger. I am positive I have never met you until now.’

‘In this realm, you are correct. It is the first time we have met. But no if you understand.’

‘I do not know what you are babbling about if I am honest with you.’

‘Each second a new, each minute a gift, each hour an adventure to behold.’

‘That is confusing but thank you for your invaluable words. How much do you know of my life?’

‘Everything, from your dreadful accident to the mediocre exam grades in school.’

‘Mediocre is a tad harsh.’

‘How would you describe them, Marla?’

She shrugs, ‘fair enough I guess.’

‘Long before I observed you. I watched over your mother and before her, your grandmother. Elveer are the protectors of sorcerers. We must safeguard their life journey, to make sure you follow the correct path. Your mother, ‘for instance,’ hatched children and renounced an existence of witchery. Some sought to alter her timeline. Eliza Medizza was a great threat to those who are of an evil heart. And so, her timeline was altered.’

‘Altered how?’

‘A stranger stepped out in front of your father’s car, culminating in a chain of events that saw your parents meet.’

‘What?’

‘The time stealers made it so.’

‘So, you are saying she may have never met our Dad?’

‘Not precisely. They meet eventually. The miopsa mirror foretold it. But by doing what they did and altering her timeline, your mother met him prematurely. She chose children over magic. Had her timeline not been altered, you may never have been born. The time stealers presumed by altering her time path that Eliza may renounce witchery. Their plan succeeded.’

‘What are these time stealers?’

‘Evil incarnate, soulless demons who inhabit the body of human beings. Their task is to manipulate time to suit their plans. They are scavengers, slaves to a master.’

‘The man you spoke of, the one from the petrol station. Were his eyes black as opal?’

‘Yes, they were, deep, a blackened abyss.’

‘It sounds to me. He is a time stealer, Marla. If that proves to be true, then you are in great danger.’

‘But what does he want with me, I do not cause trouble, I stay under the radar. Well, apart from the moment I stuck Stella’s favourite shoes to the floor with superglue. And the time I stole apples from the neighbour’s apple tree and blamed Stella. No wonder she hates me with a passion. I am a dreadful excuse for a sister.’

‘The time stealer is attempting to change either your future or your past, Marla. Trust me when I say he or she will not stop hunting you until they have achieved their goal.’

‘I just don’t understand it, too surreal, the police officer…’

‘Police officer?’

‘Yes, the one from earlier. He ordered me to step out of the car. I argued with him. It makes sense. He knew I was in danger. He could detect the time stealer sitting on the back seat; I am convinced. What is unusual, is why I couldn’t?’

‘Time stealers, like the fire oak, can exist or not exist in time and space, showing themselves when needed. If what you are saying regarding the police officer is true, it can mean only one thing.’

‘Which is?’

‘The law enforcement officer you encountered was an emporium enchanter, an extremely powerful warlock. They are the only ones who can see time stealers when they are invisible to everyone else. I have never stumbled across such a sorcerer in my many years on the planet. I am puzzled why they sought to come to your help.’

‘What do you mean Babulous?’

‘The emporium enchanters are few. They only concern themselves in matters far beyond our own. They are universal defenders. I am concerned about why they have made themselves visible to you. You are not a full-fledged witch; you are a scrawny young woman from Manchester. They recognise a brilliant strength in you, something they consider sacred enough to protect.’

‘Scrawny, err, thanks for nothing.’

‘What I know is this, whatever you are engaged with, has to be incredibly important for them to intervene, and dangerous for you.’

‘So, my severed head is not the only issue here?’

‘Marla, my hairless human, as wondrous as your head is, Emporium Enchanters will not involve themselves. They have made themselves obvious to you for a much greater reason.’

‘Thank you Babulous.’

‘For what?’

‘Stating that my head is pretty.’

‘For a witch you are Marla.’

‘Huh, you are just saying that.’

‘Pardon me?’

‘That I am pretty. My sisters Stella and Bella are, but not me. I have always regarded myself as ordinary.’

‘Yes, maybe you are right Marla.’

‘Huh?’

‘Plain.’

‘Great, thanks very much!’

‘Marla, listen to me. The time stealer is seeking to adjust your time path and he or she will stop at nothing to do so. May I enquire if the unexpected has happened to you of late, that is out of the ordinary?’

‘Well, apart from visiting my nan, standing in front of the miopsa mirror, and witnessing an evil named Cornelius Darkus holding my severed skull, my life has been relatively typical.’

‘The infamous witch slayer?’

‘That’s him, do you know of him?’

‘Everyone who is part of the ruby realm knows of this evil man.’

‘Ruby realm?’

‘A realm to which you belong, sacrosanct to witches, wizards, and Elveers alike.’

‘Similar to a club?’

‘Not a club, Marla. A domain that exists outside this galaxy. A dimension locked between time and space, sanctuary.’

‘Then I shall travel to this place.’

‘Where?’

‘To this realm thingamajig.’

‘It isn’t a place you can visit Marla; it does not exist here. You do not discover it, it finds you.’

‘Once again, whoosh, completely over my head Babulous.’

‘There is a wealth of wonders in this world that make scant sense Marla, it does not mean they are not real.’

‘Yes, I guess so.’

‘Cornelius Darkus was imprisoned by a Medizza witch many centuries ago. Had this not been the case, he would have terrorised the earth.’

‘He pursued Medizza with intent on ending her life. Fortunately for the Medizza witch, she had an ally referred to as the cloaked one who helped her, and thus the soul of Darkus was cast into everlasting purgatory.

‘But nan said many witch hunters exist. What makes him so unique?’

‘Darkus is not your run-of-the-mill witch hunter. He is a soul stealer. His power was so mighty he could seize the souls of witches and non-witch alike. Legend has it, he holds the souls of thousands in the Varbatian sceptre.’

‘Varbatian sceptre?’

‘Yes, pillaged from Lucifer himself, along with that wretched canine Cerberus. The soul of which still exists inside the sceptre. Do you see Marla dearest, the more souls he snares, the stronger his power?’

‘Before your ancestor locked him away in the mirror, his power was unimaginable and would have grown mightier as each year passed. I do not know why he wants to kill you but seek to do so he will.’

‘This sounds like a terrible dream; one I am hoping to wake from shortly.’

‘It may sound like a horrendous nightmare, Marla, but believe me when I say this. If the soul of Cornelius Darkus escapes, I fear for you and your family.’

‘So where are your folk?’ the Elveers, surely an army could stop him?’

‘We are few now Marla, far too few to take on the potency of such an evil force.’

‘So, you are suggesting I am buggered, then?’

‘Buggered Marla. What is this word?’

‘Oh, it doesn’t matter,’ she gasps.

‘I see you carry the mark.’

‘Mark, which mark?’

‘On your arm Marla.’

‘No, that’s a birthmark.’

‘Far from the truth, Marla dearest. The symbol on your arm is an Opulus, a mark handed to the few. An impression that shows supreme power within you.’

‘I am not though.’

‘Not what?’

‘Powerful, I am just a young woman from Manchester. Okay, I mean I am excellent at sprinting, considering I only have one limb. I came second in the school two hundred metres, second to Jade Crescent, the head girl, and the biggest show-off I have ever come across in my life. Once she…’

‘Marla, listen to me. The Opulus is a symbol of extraordinary power. How you placed in the race at your school sports day is irrelevant.’

‘Well, it wasn't a sports day, but I understand.’

‘Take heed, Marla, whatever you are planning to do to stop Cornelius Darkus. Be swift in your timing and steadfast in your resolve.’

‘I aim to do that. Before you dragged me in here, for which I am thankful. I was travelling to visit my great aunt on the Isle of Muck. She has a potion that will stop Cornelius Darkus freeing himself from the mirror.’

‘The Isle of Muck, you say, the home of Elspeth, the enchantress?’

‘Yes, she is my great aunt.’

‘Your great aunt is revered by black and white witches alike, including the time stealers. It is said that time stealers have been searching for your great aunt for decades.’

‘Why?’

‘It makes sense to me. I never clearly understood why the time stealers deemed to show your great aunt any interest. But if what you are saying is true, if she holds the key to halt the escape of Cornelius Darkus, then they will find her.

‘Yes, that’s why I need to find her. My Nan explained she is the only person who can save me from this. I am scared and alone and I am desperate to get to her. Will you help me?’

‘Help you?’

‘Yes, help me get to her before he frees himself and…’

‘Slices off your head?’

‘Yes, before that!’ she scowls.

Babulous rubs at his fur before taking a huge gulp from the teacup.

‘Well?’

‘I will go with you on your journey Marla, if not purely to avenge someone very dear to me.’

‘Thank you, you do not know how relieved I am,’ utters Marla, lifting the teacup to her mouth.

‘Ugh, what the heck is this!?’

‘Dandelion tea Marla, exceptionally good for your bowels.’

‘My bowels are fine thanks very much, yuck it’s revolting!’

‘I don’t think we have seen the last of the time stealers. They will lurk in the dark, waiting. I think we need to leave promptly. Rest for a moment Marla dearest while I gather items for our journey.’

‘Oh dear, I left my bag and suitcase in my granddad’s car.’

‘Do you have your wand of magic?’

Babulous rests his hand on Marla’s head. A brilliant light fills the room. A feeling of warmth travels through her.

‘That should help.’ he utters.

Marla watches him scurrying around the den with a cotton sack. She touches her head in search of the bump; it is gone.

‘Okay, we will take the car.’

“We can’t, I just explained the car is back there and burnt out.’

‘Come Marla dearest, open that little hatch and climb through it.’ he remarks pointing at a hatch in the tree bark. Marla pushes on it and plunges into the driver’s seat of the Rolls Royce. She is puzzled. The hatch of the tree is now the passenger door of the car.

‘This day has changed from peculiar to I haven’t got a clue what is going on anymore,’ she mutters, staring at Babulous inside the fire oak busily gathering.

‘Okay, let us make haste Marla dearest,’ he hails, plonking his furry bottom onto the passenger seat.’

‘I don’t understand Babulous, the car. Why is it here, why is it no longer a burnt-out wreck?’

‘Too much to explain to you in limited time, Marla. I fear this day will unearth the macabre and downright terrifying before the hands strike midnight. I sense impending doom, Marla dearest. We must make haste. We must get to Elspeth the enchantress before Cornelius Darkus gets to you.’

Marla twists the key, and the beast snarls into life once again. She is relieved to have met Babulous and more so that he has stepped into the nightmare with her. She is no longer alone.