Dread

But it wasn’t the Fiend. I was looking at a powerful malevolent witch. Her eyes were like fiery coals and her face was contorted with hatred and malice. Yet it was her head that terrified me most of all. Instead of hair she had a nest of black snakes that writhed and coiled, forked tongues flickering, fangs ready to inject their venom.

Suddenly there was a moan of animal terror from my right. It was the sergeant. For all his brave words, his face was now deformed by fear, his eyes bulging in his head, mouth open as if to scream. But instead he gave another moan, deep from within his belly, and set off into the trees, heading north at full pelt. His men followed, with Toddy bringing up the rear, and I could hear them in the distance, their frantic footsteps receding until they’d faded away altogether.

In the silence I was left alone to face the witch. I had no salt, no iron, no staff, and my hands were still bound behind my back, but I took a deep breath and tried to control my fear. That was the first step when dealing with the dark.

But I needn’t have worried. Suddenly the witch smiled and her eyes ceased to glow. The coldness within me ebbed. The snakes stopped writhing and became a head of black hair. The contortions of the face relaxed into the features of an exceptionally pretty girl and I looked down at the pointy shoes that I knew so well. It was Alice, and she was smiling at me.

B5 C2