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.