A/N This fanfiction has absolutely NOTHING to do with the band Dragon Force… the title is purely coincidental.
Disclaimer: In the unlikely event that this Fanfiction should make contact with anti-matter and spontaneously combust, resulting in the end of the world due to a massive explosion that wipes out half the galaxy, readers are urged to remember that Worst Witch and all of its characters belong to Jill Murphy... I only plot with them and therefore the blame of such a catastrophic explosion is not to land at my door step… you know… cause these things do happen.
Chapter 1
Amelia Cackle, a witch best known for her kind nature and good will to every girl to cross the thresh hold of her castle, helplessly slumped into the nearest wooden chair, the despair on her face hidden behind her aged hands. She had long since cast a silencing spell, but still, she could hear that scream, that glass shattering scream. It echoed in her ears and bounced against the walls of her brain like the sonorous tone of a cathedral bell. Not even the secluded darkness of her hands could ease the pain that accumulated at her temples. There may come a time when she'd cease to hear it, but she doubted there'd ever be a time when she would forget… judging by the state of her staff, there wasn't much hope for the sound ever leaving the walls of Cackles academy in this life time.
How had it come to this? The steady decline of sanity that gripped the scream's owner seemed so sudden, throwing her into an oblivion worse than death itself. She couldn't help but berate herself. Had she paid more attention to the running's of her school, would this have happened? Could she have prevented the bridge into insanity that seemed to have been crossed? She lowered her hands to meet the wild eyes of a scarred and frightened child, her pupils mere pin pricks amongst a sea of brown, illuminated by the sinister candle light that cast deathly shadows upon the old stone walls.
Amelia shrank back as the eyes met hers. Had she always been this close to the bed? With a relieved sigh, the eyes lost focus and turned wild once more. Amelia brought her hands together as if in prayer, and in some respects, she was. After all, she had spent the past 3 hours pleading to whoever was listening in desperation to do something to help alleviate the demise that was becoming of the weeping being before her… perhaps deep down she really did believed in a god… perhaps the legends and folklore that spoke of such beings were real and in the same sense, perhaps ghouls, ghosts and monsters existed too… or perhaps she was just willing to believe in anything so long as the suffering would cease and life would once again seep into the grey clammy skin of the feeble.
Amelia looked to her staff with a tear in her eye once more. Where had all the life gone? Miss Crotchet, normally a chirpy, high spirited woman, sat with her face cast to the floor and her nimble hands clutching a damp cloth to her blood stained hair; Imogen stood leaning against the wall, eyes transfixed upon a spot on the bed frame as she gnawed at her quickly diminishing finger nails; Frank rocked back and forth, cradling Mrs Tapioca as he did so, keeping his eyes on the flag stone by the door as pieces of glass fell from the woman's hair, hoping against hope that it would magically lift to reveal an antidote… after all, the castle had revealed hidden secrets in the past that aided in dire situations, why couldn't it do it again? So long as there's hope, there's a chance for salvation… no matter how frail that hope is… no matter how much it begins to fail as each and every thud against the thin mattress beats in time with your own contorting heart.
Amelia turned her eyes to the window, desperately seeking counsel from the tall, elegant witch she wished was standing there. Another thud from the bed brought her attention back to the woman in question. It was a sight she hoped never to have the curse of seeing… a sight that was unbecoming of the image she wished to always have of the strong, confident woman. Vulnerable, that's what she was now, vulnerable and weak. This wasn't the Constance Hardbroom she knew and loved, this was a stranger… a teary eyed stranger that was quickly losing a battle within her own mind. Her dark hair was matted and sticking to her face, wet with perspiration despite the coolness of her skin. Her pallor seemed much paler and challenged even that of her white cotton dress, which in itself give the impression of something gone wrong. The only colour that danced across the stranger's deathly pale flesh was the hue of the seemingly sun burnt patches and red lines that appeared and disappeared on her arms and throat. No, this wasn't Constance Hardbroom at all.
Amelia closed her eyes, unable to witness the chaos before her as the woman writhed and tossed on the bed, from pain or hallucinations, Amelia wasn't sure. Another whine from the mattress's springs resonated in her ears… tying the woman's wrists and ankles to the bed frame was cruel but it was the only thing stopping the witch from falling off the bed or casting at her or her staff. Squeak squeak… Amelia gritted her teeth… squeak squeak… she balled her hands into fists, her short nails digging into her palms… squeak squeak squeak… Amelia forced her eyes open, the image of the stranger's exhausted body bucking against the restraints met her sight instantly… this wasn't a stranger at all and how dare she even view the woman as such. She was still the strong willed, traditional witch who took care of the school in its darkest hours, still the safety net upon which Amelia so gratefully fell upon when she was at her lowest… there was a faint hint of the old Constance Hardbroom in there… the Constance Hardbroom Amelia thought would guild her into the next life… the Constance Hardbroom she had come to think of as her daughter.
Squeak squeak squeak
Amelia flicked out her fingers with a rush of magic as emotion over took her. The sudden movement alone was enough to startle her staff but she didn't care, she just had to stop that infernal squeaking. Imogen edged her way over to Amelia and placed an arm around her shoulders, to comfort Amelia or herself was a question she wasn't sure she wanted answered. Amelia met the Gym mistresses eyes before they involuntarily found their way back to her deputy. Her torso rose from the bed as though she were possessed whilst she screamed out silenced cries of fear, a spell Imogen was more than grateful for. She could close her eyes to block out the sight or focus on an object in the distance but sound was another matter.
Amelia suddenly flinched and shoved her fingers in her ears as though she could actually hear her potion mistress's cries… no, she could hear them! Constance's broken voice was cutting through the spell like it were butter! It was shaking the very foundations of Amelia's mind into submission but looking around her, she realised only she could hear it. She squinted her eyes and grimaced as the scream pounded at her very core.
Tears streamed down the pale waxy cheeks of the forsaken woman as she clawed at the spectres that weren't there, desperate for the death the invisible demons promised.
A/N I feel the need to scream 'I'M BACK BABY!' but I shall duly refrain from doing so. I will update this hopefully every Sunday... Key word here being hopefully.