head back to the Ragwitch, drawn to the black-glinting eyes. Horrified, Paul dashed forward to grab it, to throw it away–anywhere away from Julia.
But when he touched the doll, it spat aloud and huddled closer to Julia, twining its three-fingered hands through her hair. And a chill voice burst into Paul’s head, hurting the inside of his ears and somehow cutting at his mind.
“I am the Ragwitch!” screamed the voice in his head. “Your sister is nothing–she is only part of ME!”
With that “ME!”, the Ragwitch screamed again, still inside Paul’s head. He felt his arms stiffen, the muscles tensing, and suddenly he felt himself being hurled backwards, without control, to land sprawling against the door. Desperately, he tried to get his hands to obey him, but they crept up the door towards the light-switch, and then, with a frenzied twitch, flicked off the lights.
In the darkness, the Ragwitch spoke again, but this time the voice was real–and it came from Julia. Low and hissing, it crawled about Paul, sending shivers from his stomach out along his spine.
“Leave, boy. What can you do against my power? Your sister is mine and MINE ALONE!”
Paul shuddered under the impact of the voice and felt tears start in his eyes. The voice got into his head, and again his hands were moving, under Her control. Slowly, his hand turned the doorknob and his legs began shuffling him out, away from Julia, out of the darkness and into the light.
“No,” said Julia, in her normal, everyday voice. She sat up in bed and looked straight at Paul. A shaft of light from the open door caught her face, and as their eyes met, Paul felt his muscles relax. Hesitantly, he tried to move and found himself free of Her control.
“She wants to take me somewhere,” whispered Julia, her face contorting under some great, unseen pressure. “Paul, you must…She wants to take me to…”
Looking into Julia’s eyes, Paul saw them suddenly glow and change colour–a black wash floating out to cover the white. Slowly, the black coalesced around the pupil, and the white started to green over in exact duplication of the rag doll’s evil eyes.
Paul felt himself becoming drowsy, looking into those gleaming, black-pupilled eyes. They seemed to get bigger, become like lanterns…lanterns illuminating a ground far below, as he fell towards them…
“Run!” screamed Julia–the real Julia. “Paul! Run!”
Shocked free from the mesmeric eyes, Paul turned and ran, slamming the door behind him.
Paul spent the rest of the night half-awake, with the light on and his door open. Every time a board creaked, he felt a start of fear–but the house was old and prone to settling, and nothing stalked him through the night. His parents, normally guardians against fear, slept with an unnatural soundness and could not be woken.
At last, towards dawn, fear became weaker than exhaustion and Paul fell into a troubled sleep. He dreamt of giant black crows screaming in from the sky, only to turn into huge rag dolls, with black-pupilled eyes against green–eyes that grew larger and larger, and more menacing, filling the whole horizon with their glowing evil…
With a stifled scream, Paul fell out of bed, dragging the blankets with him. It took a few seconds for him to really wake up and his heart to slow its pounding. Bright, cheery sunlight filtered in around the curtains. Sleepily, Paul looked at the radio clock next to his bed. It said six o’clock – at least an hour too early to get up. Paul yawned and climbed back into bed, rearranging the blankets with a few kicks and half-hearted dragging motions.
He was just rearranging the pillow when he heard the front door close–the slight, snicking sound of someone easing the door shut as quietly as possible.
Paul knew it had to be Julia. His parents never woke up before eight. He felt an unpleasant butterfly in his stomach, remembering the events of the night before. And Julia’s words: “She wants to take me somewhere.”
“I’ll have to save her,” said Paul aloud, hoping the sound of his own voice would make him feel better. But it didn’t – it only made everything seem even scarier than before. He just didn’t know what to do. Julia was the one who knew what to do–Julia was the one who always knew, and now she was the problem.
Paul felt tears welling up in his eyes and a terrible feeling of hopelessness swept over him. What would Julia do, if it was me? he suddenly thought–and there was the answer. Julia wouldn’t abandon him, so he wouldn’t abandon her. He quickly threw on his clothes, laced his sandshoes and ran out of the house, not bothering to be quiet with the door.
There was no sign of Julia, but her tracks were easy to follow across the sand and down to the sea. Paul ran at first, but he soon slowed down. It was too tiring to run on sand.
But Julia hadn’t stopped at the sea. Turning along the coast, she was heading for the rocky spit–or the Midden. Paul thought he knew which one it would be. Grimly, he began to run again, up towards the Midden, the hill of ancient bones.
As Paul expected, Julia was there, kneeling near the giant crow’s nest, doing something with the sticks that it was made of. Paul could see no sign of the rag doll. Relieved, he sprinted up the last few metres, calling out, “Julia!”
Julia turned around–and Paul skidded to a stop in shock. He felt like he’d been winded, struck so hard he couldn’t breathe at all. For the person in front of him wasn’t Julia at all, but a hideous mixture of girl and doll: half flesh, half cloth, and the eyes and face had nothing of Julia left at all, only the evil features of the doll.
“Callach!” spat the Ragwitch, raising one three-fingered hand–and Paul was rooted to the spot: paralysed, save for his eyes, which darted from side to side, looking for escape. He wanted to close them, to not see whatever was going to happen, but his eyelids refused to move.
The Ragwitch laughed, a chilling cackle that sent a spark of fear right through Paul. Then She turned back to the nest and started to rearrange the sticks.
He had obviously been granted a slight reprieve. Paul watched the Ragwitch with some glimmerings of hope. She was taking the sticks out of the nest and making them into a sort of pyramid, breaking the tangled ring and giving it an ordered shape.
She worked quickly. In minutes the nest was no more and the pyramid was complete: a neat construction of sticks, as tall as Paul. He watched, fascinated, as the Ragwitch drew designs in the red earth around the pyramid–strange symbols that were all straight lines and nasty looking pictures, like some ancient form of writing.
She didn’t look at Paul until the writing was complete. Then She stood up, looming over him. Even in the short time since he’d first seen Her at the nest, She’d grown rapidly and was now at last two metres tall.
He noticed that She now had teeth as well–rows of thin, shark-like teeth, hideously out of place in that smiling, redlipped doll’s face.
She came closer and Paul shuddered, watching the teeth as She leant over him. But he made his eyes go out of focus–he wouldn’t look into Her eyes, not after the night before. Her breath struck his face, cold, and somehow smelling of darkness and fear. Paul stared his eyes into even more of a blur and waited to be killed.
Then the Ragwitch spoke, using Julia’s voice–a voice changed and tainted but still recognisably Julia’s.
“You will stand here for ever, boy, as a monument to those who would keep Me penned
