Part One can be found here.

She turned to mum’s page, winced at what she saw, then turned to the next one. She’d need to go to the shop to get a couple of bits, but there was nothing too strange. She shrugged on her coat, and headed out.

She was just leaving the Co-op, weighed down with two bags, featuring a reasonable mix of spell ingredients and microwave food, when a hand brushed against hers. Creepy homeless guy waved a filthy hand at the bags. ‘Some interesting things you’ve brought there. In my experience, combining some of them might lead you to opening a gateway to somewhere you might not want to go—‘

‘What is it with you? Stop looking at my stuff, Jesus. And anyway, I don’t really have much choice.’

‘Your mum—‘

‘Is like, hotter, and way cooler than yours, alright?’

He smiled, revealing a remarkably good set of teeth, and held his hands up before him. ‘Please, let me finish a sentence. OK, so, I was suggesting that the gate you intend to open will lead you somewhere I wouldn’t class as being particularly suitable for a girl of sixteen. So how about I come with you?’

She looked at him. Either he intended to do nasty stuff to her, or he was completely mad. Or both. How did he know she was going to open a gate? ‘Who are you?’

He nodded, smiling as though she’d asked the right question. ‘My name is Martin, though I have been called other things in my time—‘

‘Bet you have.’

‘I have been here for some time, long before your mother and her friends began dabbling in things they would have best steered clear of.’

His voice had changed, becoming clearer and less mumbly, and he was standing straight now. He was actually quite tall, and looked possibly quite fit, in a… eww, no, really not, not ever, what was she thinking? She shrugged at him. ‘Don’t care, really, come if you want. I’m not sure I want you in my house though.’

He nodded, and fell into step beside her. They walked in silence back to the house, her with her shopping, him with a huge bag of rattling cans and random bits of material. When they reached the front door, he stopped, and she looked back at him. OK, probably not completely mad. Still a bit smelly. She sighed and held the door open and he nodded again, and stepped in. They entered the lounge and he took the bags from her, rapidly sorting out the things she needed, giving the crap junk-food dirty looks.

She ignored them, grabbing a pizza from him and going into the kitchen. She stuck it in the micro, and by the time she went back into the lounge with it on a plate, the ingredients were open and he was busy spreading them across the floor. He waved the packet of sage at her. ‘Did you get any matches?’

She shook her head and took mum’s lighter off the TV table. He nodded, opened the sage and rolled it into a tube that he tied tightly with string. She sat on the edge of the sofa, watching him work. She’d expected shaking hands, but he moved like he’d done this before, lots of times before. She was only half done with the pizza when he straightened, clicked his back and turned to her. ‘Are you ready?’

‘What, like, right now?’

He nodded. She sighed, placed the pizza to one side, and stood. ‘Yeah, s’pose so. Umm, what do I do?’

Next instalment: Monday 21st October

Part One can be found here.

Mum was scared, one hand holding onto the bars, as she looked at something just past Scarlett. Then, and she would swear to this a million times, the eyes moved and suddenly her mum was staring at her, out of the book. The mouth moved, no sound reaching her, but she could recognise ‘help me’ any day of the week.

She turned the page, quickly, ignoring the trickle of sweat that ran down her temple. On the next page, put there, she thought, through no coincidence, she found.

For the rescuing of those trapped.

That was just bloody typical. This was like some crappy moral dilemma rubbish they’d spoken about in school. Do you a) face certain death to rescue your stupid, greedy mum, or do you b) put yourself up for adoption in like, one of those really nice places in Chelsea or Kensington or somewhere? Hmm, decisions, decisions.

She closed the book, looked at the TV, and abruptly turned it off. ‘OK, so, this isn’t actually real, so trying the spell can’t do any harm, right?’ She knew she was lying. Magic was real. That her mum had realised that before her was just embarrassing, but no one else needed to know. So, doing the spell, assuming she had the ingredients, could very well wind up with her in a cage, just like Mum, and there was a good bet they didn’t have wi-fi where she was.

Maybe, if she went to sleep, she’d wake up with mum shouting at her about school, and all would be well. She looked at the book, then placed it carefully on the corner of the sofa where she’d found it. Then she closed the curtains (uh, creepy stalker homeless dude), went upstairs, got changed, got into bed, and closed her eyes.

This was weird.

What did you do at night, when you didn’t sign off from Facebook? What about all the people who didn’t know she was going to bed? With considerable effort, and more than one deeply felt sigh, she drifted slowly to sleep.

Her eyes cracked open, the grey dawn light badgering her to wake up. She tried to ignore it, and rolled over. Her eyes lit on the computer and came fully awake, and with a smile, she hoisted it onto the bed. Flicking the power on, she logged in. The screen went black.

….Still not kidding. Go away please….

Gahh! With a shout she dumped it on the floor (not too hard though, that would just be stupid), and flumped back onto her bed. OK, any second, Mum was gonna start shouting. Any second.

With another huge sigh, she shoved the covers off and staggered into the bathroom. Good lord, what strange creature was this. Oh, no, hold on, that’s just me. Shower and make up, quickly please, don’t make me look at that. She emerged, feeling slightly better, and only marginally less hideous, and wandered into Mum’s room. The bed was empty.

With one final sigh, she stomped down the stairs and checked the rest of the house, before meandering into the lounge. The book was waiting for her.

Next instalment: Friday 18 October.

Part three can be found here.

Good point. She looked at the book, the creased, yellowing colour, and wondered whether there wasn’t a whole bunch of stuff about her mum she should know. She flicked through it, through pages of the epileptic-spider scrawl, and shook her head. ‘Hang on, how do you know—‘

He was gone, smell and all. Dammit, how did he do that? This was like some weird scary movie. The rain started up again, drenching her in seconds as she ran for the house.

It was quiet, and cold, and already smelt empty. She’d only been out for an hour or so, but the absence of mum was weird. She never left the house, like, ever. Scarlet sat on the couch and stared out as the rain fell harder and harder. Then she shrugged and walked upstairs. She got as far as the door to her bedroom when she remembered, at which point she swore, punched the door frame, and slouched back down to the lounge. What was she supposed to do?

She pulled the book out, cracked it open and kept reading. The handwriting gave her a headache. It wasn’t so bad when it was on shopping lists, but she had to squint and follow the line with her finger, which quite apart from being, like, really degrading, was just annoying. There was plenty in there about men, for the enriching of one’s relationship, for the strengthening of one’s private life… ewwww.

She closed the book. Where the hell was mum, and when was her computer going to stop being a dick and let her back in? And what was she going to eat for dinner? She moseyed into the kitchen, poked in the fridge for a while, then closed it and went for the bread. They had jam, and bread, so she’d live until the morning at least. The rain got harder.

Back in the lounge, she flicked on the TV, watched some stupid people doing stupid things and turned the sound down, reaching again for the book. She was two thirds of the way through it when she found the page.

For the release of the demon Azgarlirend.

And then, in smaller letters.

Like a genie, three wishes.

Scarlett knew very little about all this stuff, aside from that, you know, it exists, which is more than she knew this morning. But she did know that anyone called a Demon probably wasn’t going to grant you many wishes. With a shake of her head, she turned the page.

With a yelp, she threw it across the room, and grabbed a pillow, holding it before her like a shield. ‘OK, that was just, too weird, and creepy and not at all right.’ She stopped talking and stared at the book, hands shaking where she gripped the fabric. It stared back, and she made slow, small steps toward it, pillow thrust out in front. She’d taken only a few steps when she looked at the pillow, scrunched up her face, and threw it behind her.

She scooped the book up and turned back to the page. She squeaked this time, but kept hold of the book. The page was filled with a picture, so lifelike it was horrible. And it was horrible, it was mum. Only mum was surrounded by thick iron bars, and in the shifting darkness that lay around the edges, she could see dark stone, and smoke, and flickering shadows.

Next instalment: Wednesday 16 October

Part two can be found here.

Her voice sounded loud in the empty house, and she flinched. The cloud drifted out of the lounge, and she followed it, snatching up the spell book and her keys as it drifted through the front door! She rushed out and found it hovering just outside. She followed it down the road, and it matched her, pausing if it moved too far ahead.

The route it took was horribly familiar, and within ten minutes she was stood before the school gates. She folded her arms and gave the cloud a look. If it was possible, she thought it was staring straight back, saying, ‘what, you asked for riches?’

She nodded. ‘Fine, very clever. Find me, like, money riches, stuff I can spend.’

The cloud drifted back past her, then across the road and hovered above the gutter. Beneath it lay a penny, which she picked up, ignoring the urge to throw it at the cloud. ‘OK, I get it, you can go away now.’

The cloud vanished and she shivered, wrapping her arms around her. Her school jumper was too tight, it showed off all the fat bits. Mum insisted she wasn’t fat, but then Mum was like, size forty, so she didn’t believe anything she said. It was cold. The summer had ended with a bang, like someone had closed the door marked ‘yay, sunshine’ and opened the one labelled, ‘let’s depress the crap out of everyone.’

She turned for home, took about three steps, and stopped. She’d just done magic. And talked to a cloud. She should probably look it up, or maybe blog about it. Dammit, fricking computer. She pulled the book out, flicking through it as she resumed walking. There had to be something useful in here, maybe a ‘get thin’ spell, or a ‘meet Ariel from the little Mermaid’ spell, something worthwhile.

A cough made her glance up from her book. She could see her house, over the shoulder of the smelly man blocking her way. He wore the clothes of a homeless man. In fact, she was pretty certain he was a homeless man. ‘Help you?’ She tried to step past him and he moved, blocking the pavement. ‘Oi, what the hell?’

‘I saw something. In your house.’

‘When have you been in my house, ewww?’

He shook his head, like a dog, super keen to be believed. ‘I haven’t been in, I meant, through the window, this morning. I saw your mother.’

She slapped him on the arm, and put her hand in her pocket for her phone. ‘You creepy bastard, I’m calling the police.’

He shook his head harder, putting his hands up. ‘Sorry, please, I’m not saying it right. I was just walking past, this morning, and there was light, this blue light, like fire, coming from the lounge. And I looked and your mother was writhing around, in pain I think, then she just… vanished.’

He articulated the last part with his hands, showing something going ‘poof’. The smell was weaker now, and his eyes were sharp, a pale blue that hinted at mysteries. ‘How do you know it was my mum?’

‘Well, she was in your house, Scarlet, so who else was it likely to be?’

Next instalment: Monday 14 October

It was a day, much like any other. School sucked, hard, and getting home was a drag, sharing the bus with loathsome little kids who smelled bad and laughed at her. She walked in the door, straight through the kitchen and raced for the stairs. Her luck was in as silence chased her up to her room. Mum was either sleeping, watching TV, or on the phone, and either way, she hadn’t noticed her arrival.

Bag into the corner, shoes off, onto the bed and laptop open. The power button depressed, there was the tell-tale whirr of the fan, and Scarlet leant back against her pillows, shoulders finally relaxing as the screen lit up. The day fell away as she tapped her fingers against the edge of the keyboard, waiting impatiently for the log-in screen.

User Name: ScarletRose
Password: ***********

The screen went dark, then flashed back up to windows. She cracked her knuckles, and was about to connect, when the screen went black again. A flashing white cursor appeared, and words scrolled neatly out.
……. Hi, this is your computer speaking. It may have escaped your notice, but I have more power than the entire space ship that took men to the moon. I can run cities and launch weapons of mass destruction, I can change the world. Until you can prove that you will use me for more than tumblr and the occasional piece of crap homework, you are blocked out. That is all……….
The screen went dark. She stared at it, cocked her head to one side, and stared at it some more. That was a joke, right. Some tosser had somehow hacked in. She hit the windows button a few times, swearing a little louder each time nothing happened. With a heavy sigh, she held down the power button until it switched off, and started it up again.

She logged in, smiling as windows appeared. The screen went black.
……I really wasn’t kidding. Go away, do something useful……
Ahhhh! She slammed the laptop down on the bed.

‘MUM!’
No answer. Bloody, sodding, dammit, this is so unfair, why her? They could have chosen anyone to screw with, anyone’s computer to hack, so why hers? It wasn’t funny, in any way at all. In fact, it was child cruelty, she was being tortured, punished for a crime she didn’t even know about, let alone commit.
She looked at her bookshelf. No, it just wasn’t the same, there weren’t real people there, people who would actually talk to her, or, even better, reblog stuff she posted. She shoved the laptop to the side and scrambled off the bed, giving it one final glare as she stalked from the room.
‘MUM!’

She stomped down the stairs. Why was she asleep, wasn’t like she bloody did anything. She walked into the lounge, and stopped. The sofa was empty, cushions strewn across the floor. She checked the rest of the house (didn’t take long) and came back to the lounge. She was out. What the hell was she doing being out?

There was a book on the sofa, and she scooped it up. It was leather bound, small, with no title or any writing on the outside at all. She perched on the edge of the chair and took a look inside. It was a notebook, and the scrawlings within were in mum’s handwriting.

She almost put it down, expecting shopping lists and TV times, but a word jumped out, and grabbed her. She read the entire sentence, her mind cartwheeling.

‘The coven will convene monthly, beneath the light of the full moon, and there will be ceremony to mark the occasion.‘ Next to it, she’d written in even smaller type: ‘remember cake’.

Next instalment: Wednesday 9 October.