Ffion: Tail of a Witch

Ffion

  Book 1: Tail of a Witch

  by Paul Simpson

  Ffion is a re-release of: Tail of a Witch - Book 1

  Copyright © Paul Simpson, 2017 Paul Simpson has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead , events or locals is entirely coincidental

  'Ffion' may not be reproduced in whole or part in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without written permission from the owner of this material.

  All characters and story in the 'Ffion' are the sole creation of P.Simpson with the exception of Jack who is based in part upon the Irish and Scottish legends of ‘Stingy Jack’ and the origin of the Jack O’ Lantern pumpkin. All other occurrences of Jack here in, including his image are the sole creation of P.Simpson

  All illustrations by: Paul Simpson

  This book is also available in print.

  Find more on Facebook: facebook.com/TailofaWitch

  Contents

  Information

  How the story began

  Thanks and Acknowledgements

  Tail of a Witch

  PrologueLimbo

  IntroductionJack

  Chapter1The old village mansion

  Chapter2A deal is made

  Chapter3Witch Stones

  Chapter4First meeting

  Chapter5Human!

  Chapter6Test of power

  Chapter7Trick and Treat

  Chapter8Dreams of the past

  Chapter9The grave meeting

  Chapter10Friends together

  Chapter11The Witchfinder

  Chapter12The pumpkins

  Chapter13Final meeting

  Chapter14Goodbyes

  EpilogueA new journey begins

  Ffion: Tail of a Witch

  by Paul Simpson

  Prologue

  Limbo

  In the labyrinth of limbo, in darkness black as pitch, a speck of light no bigger than a pinprick on a drawn curtain, danced to the hum of a mumbled chant.

  It swung back and forth until without warning its master drew it close. Jack held his lantern high casting his twisted shadow across the engulfing dark landscape, watching, with a wry smile as the cinders within began to glow brighter. The lantern crackled and spat as from inside its hollow body rose tiny blue sparks that gently spun into an unseen breeze.

  “Yessss...At last!” he cried in triumph, lifting the lantern high and willing the cinders to breath within. Slowly, hundreds, thousands of tiny sparks emerged and sailed high into the eerie darkness, a maniacal cackle willing them aloft. From within the lantern a bright blue flame illuminated Jack’s face. He grinned with evil glee as he watched the flame grow and his mouth stretched wide becoming the only smile in Hell’s limbo.

  Introduction

  Jack

  An old Irish legend grew about a man named Jack. This began near the end of his life, when he was as hated as he was despised. With his long beaten wife gone, he was a solitary soul. His misery was his only companion; the beckoning call of drink remained his only constant, the craving the only thing that could match his bitterness.

  One cold and stormy All Hallow’s Eve Night, the Devil appeared before Jack’s deathbed. He had come for his soul. Patient and resolute, The Devil stood beside the roaring fire.

  Jack had other plans. Though dying, he still had some wits left about him. He asked The Dark Lord for one last favour before passing on and so he indulged him.

  His request was that the Devil could manifest into a penny, so that he may taste the drink on his lips, just one last time. With a puff of purple smoke, upon the chair placed beside the bed appeared a shiny new penny. Jack snatched the coin, placed it in his leather purse and drew a cross upon it. The Devil was trapped, a prisoner of Jack’s purse. Though it would not hold for long, Jack knew it would buy him more time to live and then he would release him. Intrigued, though angered by Jack’s trickery, he reluctantly agreed to Jack’s bargain.

  Each year, on the same night, at the same time, The Devil came for Jack, and each time, for years upon years, Jack had tricked his way into renewing a deal for his life. However, on this occasion, Jack was not so lucky. His old body could take no more. The wretched old man fell asleep and never woke again.

  Unable to enter Heaven for his wrongs doings, Jack turned to the fires of Hell for admittance. Seizing the opportunity for revenge, The Devil refused. Jack was thrown into a place where things that must not be seen are kept, the deepest and darkest Limbo. A hollowed pumpkin with an eternally burning ember was all Jack possessed to light his way for all of his exiled eternity, so that he might catch glimpses of the horrors which inhabited.

  Chapter 1

  The old village mansion

  A cold chill to the autumn air whistled, as the large Harvest moon shone brightly through passing wispy clouds. The light poured onto the sleepy village below. Every tile, slab and cobble was washed with silvery light, illuminated by the low misty veil that wandered the empty streets below, empty all but for the sound of two pairs of feet running toward the old mansion that stood twisted and broken upon the hillside overlooking all below it.

  It was October 30th and close to midnight. Several hours earlier two teenagers had been dared by their friends to venture up to the old mansion on the hill. Everyone thought the place could be haunted, some even believed it was, but all agreed it was no place to visit late at night.

  No one really knew the mansion’s history. Some said it had been built for a rich, eccentric gentleman many years ago, although tragedy had befallen him so he never lived there, leaving the house to rot and decay. Others said that it was built overnight by a cult who used it as a meeting place for their rituals. Either way it no longer mattered, the house was old with a morbid emptiness enough to excite any imagination into believing that there was something not quite right with the place. They glanced at one another, peering through the bars of the looming gates which stood guard over all threats to the odd abode, yet it easily opened as the two leaned on it with a deafening screech of rusty metal.

  “It’s open!” said the boy with surprise.

  “Race you to the attic!” shouted the girl, already well on her way.

  The abandoned attic was cold and damp from the crisp autumn air. The moonlight shone romantically through the broken roof tiles setting everything aglow.

  Their footsteps grew louder as they climbed up to the attic. When they got to the door the girl shouted “Ha! Beat you!” pleased with herself as she turned the doorknob, which was met by a loud creak as the door opened.

  The boy fumbled about for his torch as they took pause to catch their breath.

  “This place gives me the creeps" he said as he lit the torch, “Let’s go back to the others…”

  “Hey! I can see the church clock from here” she said, glimpsing out of the gaps in the roof. “Look! It’s nearly Halloween! I hope you’re not afraid of ghosts!” She teased.

  They figured they’d look around whilst they were there. Busy hands tore through all the old junk in dusty boxes. The boy knocked a stack over in his curiosity and on to the floor toppled a dusty old book. He knelt down, picked it up and began to sift through the pages.

  “Hey! Come look at this…” he spread the book out so she could look too, as he wiped off the dusty cover to reveal its title ‘Local Legends’, quickly cleaning off his hands on his trousers.

  “It’s ab
out our village” she pointed out. They scanned some more, when he became drawn to a page for no apparent reason and to read aloud.

  ‘The book tells of a witch and her daughter. Disobeying a coven’s rules by having a child by a mortal man and, as a way of saving themselves, they turned her over to the Witchfinder General who was visiting the village. During the struggle, the girl’s father was killed whilst her mother was taken and burned at the stake. The child was never found, but it is said that to protect her daughter, the mother, using powerful magic, transformed her into a cat hoping that she would escape unnoticed and eventually break the spell to avenge her parents wrongful deaths. It is said the cat still visits the standing stones on the hill, where it is believed her mother’s soul is trapped until the spirits of the five are joined together… or the Reaper comes and claims his prize.’

  In the distance, the church clock struck midnight. The two looked nervously at each other.

  From out of nowhere a blue spark appeared before them floating in mid air. They watched in awe as another made itself visible, then another and another.

  The room became alive with dancing blue sparks.

  They stared on at the manifesting spectacle before them, when a faint sound of laughter started to echo around the decayed attic walls.

  “I hope that was you” she whispered.

  “I hope it was me too!” He nervously replied.

  The pretty lights swelled and appeared to open inward, as if forming a swirling tunnel. They started to edge towards the attic door, desperate to find the handle. The look of fright on their faces intensified as the laughter drew closer and louder. They were stood side on to the sparks, when they also noticed movement. The shape of a head emerged, looking directly at the children. With a glint of joy and twisted glee, Jack pulled himself free of the doorway, stretching his long bony body as high as he could reach. The teenagers made a try for the handle again, but their attempt caused Jack to notice the rattle. His tooth-filled grin, lit red by the ember he carried, was a danger sign as much as any. Screaming in horror, they flung the door open, nearly tripping over themselves in an effort to escape the old house, whilst Jack’s sinister chuckle seemed to chase them from behind.

 

  Chapter 2

  A deal is made

  Across the street, in a nearby alleyway, a group of cats had gathered and were picking on a small black female called Ffion.

  “Hey, Ffion! Tell us again how you used to be human” laughed the biggest and fattest of the cats.

  With her head hung low, Ffion sat in the centre of them not knowing whether to cry or walk away.

  They all chuckled apart from one, a white cat named George who made his way over to her.

  “Give it a rest you lot. You’re only bullying her cause she’s smaller than any one of you.” George turned his gaze towards the fat cat, “And it’s not hard, as you’re bigger than everyone here put together, you big tubster!”

  The rest of the gang chuckled again, apart from the fat cat who tried to disperse his embarrassment. George turned to Ffion “Come on Ffion… let’s go. We don’t need to hang out with these idiots,” and he shoved one of them out of the way as they left.

  George and Ffion walked across to the other side of the street, Ffion fell behind, trying to leave the jokes and jibes behind her that were growing quieter from the alleyway now behind them.

  “Don’t listen to them Ffion” George said, “The tubby one’s never been the same since he lost half his tail” trying his best to cheer his friend up. “Come on, let’s see that smile of yours!”

  “What would I do, if I hadn’t have met you George?” smiled Ffion, giving George a furry nudge, looking at him with admiration.

  Amongst all the other cats, George stood out being the only white one. He had known Ffion since he was a kitten when she had come to his rescue. It was about six years ago, when George full with curiosity and play, had wandered from his home to chase a butterfly. He had concentrated so intensely on catching his prey, that when it had flown into the sky and was gone, he realised that he had no idea where he was, or which direction he had travelled in. This wasn’t made easier when two dogs appeared and trapped him in the dead end of an alley. As he backed up against the fencing, which blocked his escape, a dark shadow of a cat leapt over him, landing between himself and his two threats.

  “Quickly! Climb those boxes and get over the fence!” Shouted the cat.

  George scrambled frantically to get to the top of the fence, then fell down the large drop over the other side with a bump. He listened to the commotion arising from the side he’d left behind, with two dogs growling and the mysterious cat hissing back. The growls turned to barks, then with a boom and a flash of light, the barks turned to whimpers as he heard the sound of large paws running away. The Cat jumped over the fence and she landed next to George.

  “You ok now little guy? Where are you from?” asked the black cat.

  “Hi I’m George, I…I… got lost chasing a butterfly and then those dogs showed up and… and…” Fumbled George.

  “It’s ok now George, they’re gone,” she said calmly. “I’m Ffion, would you like me to help you find where you live?”

  Little George nodded and grinned at his new friend and they had remained friends ever since.

  Unlike George, the other cats had never come to like Ffion, they could sense she was different and didn’t want her around for that one simple reason that she didn’t fit in with them. George could also sense Ffion was different but he didn’t care. She was his best friend and because of this friendship the other cats mostly ignored or stayed away from them both, which was fine with George as he was going to stick by her no matter what.

  Over the years, George had noticed his friend becoming more and more miserable, or maybe upset, or at the very least distracted. It was hard to put his paw on, except for the fact that she had always had a spark of life within her, but recently it was fading fast.

  “I know! Let’s go to the old house on the hill and catch some mice! I promise I’ll only hold ‘em in my gums!” suggested George with his toothless grin, which made Ffion laugh.

  “Oh George, you do make me smile!” beamed Ffion.

  “There you go,” he said “I was beginning to miss that look. I hadn’t seen it in so long!”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you George.”

  “Well, you’d be sad and lonely,” he boasted. “You’d be like those old cats you see with bits of fur missing, that scratch at you with their dirty claws and crooked teeth that…”

  Ffion cut him off.

  “Alright! Alright! I got the idea already!” she laughed.

  They made their way to the gates of the old house when they were suddenly sidetracked by the sound of screaming which was getting louder as they approached. The cats quickly jumped to one side as the old mansion gates burst open and two teenagers screamed past running for their lives, not even noticing George and Ffion, who they nearly tripped over, as they struggled to get as far away as possible.

  “Hey! Watch it you big oafs! If I was bigger, I’d… I’d…" said George.

  George continued to rant, but Ffion was more interested in what had disturbed the two, when she noticed the haunting light coming from the holes in the attic roof.

  She set off to investigate. George still talking, turned to speak to Ffion

  “Don’t you agree Ffion? FFION?” She had, however already gone inside.

  Racing upstairs, she pushed the old door ajar with her paw and peered into the attic space. A strange blue swirl of light was shimmering in the darkness. She stepped further into the room and noticed other lights in the corner. There were two yellow blinking orbs within a ghostlike shadow which made its way over to her. As it drew closer, it was apparent they were two staring eyes.

  A male voice came from the light.

  "Greetings witch" spoke the soft enticing voice whose words seemed to glide around Ffion as if each one were a misty wis
p. "Who's there, how do you know of me" asked Ffion.

  "I know more about you than I can tell..... for now anyway" came another wisp. "I have a proposition for you, can I take it you might be interested" he breathed.

  "Well that all depends now doesn't it" came Ffion's reply, "For a start you could begin by telling me what in Hell that is" asked Ffion looking over at the swirling doorway.

  "Close, but not quite in Hell. Rather an extension, much like a storage locker of unwanted items if you'll excuse my weak comparison."

  Ffion looked even more confused at this answer.

  "OK, so you know I'm a witch and you're saying that is a doorway to Hell's storage chest."

  "Correct" came the voice.

  "And what is this proposition you would like to offer me" asked Ffion.

  "Simple, the doorway you see here was created by one of its tenants; I want you to put him back" requested the voice.

  "Sounds a bit freaky, what exactly am I putting back and why don't you do it" she replied.

  The two eyes blinked and moved a little closer "His name is Jack, a tall thin skeleton of a man. You will know him by the lantern he carries which contains a burning ember. It would seem that he has been able to harness the power I placed within the ember which keeps it eternally lit to make his escape by creating this doorway. The only way to close it is for Jack to pass back through; as the power that created it came directly from me it also means I cannot interfere.”

  "Ok sounds a bit different to what I normally do like chase mice and sleep, so what's in it for me" questioned Ffion.

  "Very well" returned the voice, "If you complete this task I ask of you I have the power to break your mother's curse upon you.”

  Ffion was taken aback. For nearly four centuries she had searched for a way to break the spell, now finally she had that chance. She pondered; unsure of how this entity knew these things about her, but it was the first chance she had been given and was not about to pass it up.

  “Alright!” she cried “I’m in!”

  “Word of warning little Witch…Jack can only pass back as the spirit he came through as. If he were to remain here for twenty-four hours, he would take physical form and the doorway would remain open forever!”