‹ Prequel: ορφανό και Εὐρυδίκη
Sequel: The Return of the Dark Witch ›
The Dark Witch
Insanity and Imaginary people
P.O.V. - Becky Sinclair
“You have to understand,” I began slowly, unable to bring myself to meet elderly woman’s eyes, “I know you’ve been trying to tell me, that…”My voice broke a little and I paused. Using the moment to clear my throat as I steeled myself and reluctantly raised my head to face her straight on. Right away I could tell she was concerned, and why wouldn’t a normal person, okay, heavily eccentric… normal person , be? “I know that you’ve been trying to tell me I’m a witch.” I said in one big rush, “That my insanity…that my insanity is really just my...witchyness.” Mrs. Lankins’ raised her eyebrows as I air quoted my, not exactly grammatically correct, but in my eyes appropriate, last word. “But the truth is, you’re wrong. I am insane.” Mrs. Lankins’ opened her mouth to speak, but I quickly raised my hand in the air, “You can’t tell me otherwise. So don’t try.”
Looking down to brush imaginary dust of my jeans, I stood up, and began to pace. I had started and I had to get it out now, “I see people. Figments, and they talk to me.” I looked up at to gage her reaction to my words. She looked surprisingly calm, but remained silent for a moment. An eternal moment, in which she found it necessary to gulp for air, okay so maybe it was only a slight preparation breath, and who could blame her? Really.
“And what do they say?” Mrs. Lankins asked, in calm, don’t set off the loose cannon, tone.
“They tell me to do things.” I said solemnly, forcing my facial expression into that of complete seriousness, before doubling over in a barrel of laughter.
“Becky?” I vaguely heard Mrs. Lankins ask over my cackling, “Becky? Are you alright?”
I could feel tears of laughter pouring down my face. So this is what it feels like to be a happy insane person. I thought to myself, as I tried to put back together whatever had just snapped inside of me, “No, I’m not. Haven’t you been listening? I’m a total wackjob. Who not only creates, but listens to, imaginary snake people who call themselves, ‘Voldemort’. I mean , come on, do you need to look any further for another person’s picture to put next to the word, ‘insanity’, in the dictionary?” I rambled on, before registering the shocked expression on Mrs. Lankins face. Finally, someone more pale than me.
“Wherever did you hear that name?”
“You have to understand,” I began slowly, unable to bring myself to meet elderly woman’s eyes, “I know you’ve been trying to tell me, that…”My voice broke a little and I paused. Using the moment to clear my throat as I steeled myself and reluctantly raised my head to face her straight on. Right away I could tell she was concerned, and why wouldn’t a normal person, okay, heavily eccentric… normal person , be? “I know that you’ve been trying to tell me I’m a witch.” I said in one big rush, “That my insanity…that my insanity is really just my...witchyness.” Mrs. Lankins’ raised her eyebrows as I air quoted my, not exactly grammatically correct, but in my eyes appropriate, last word. “But the truth is, you’re wrong. I am insane.” Mrs. Lankins’ opened her mouth to speak, but I quickly raised my hand in the air, “You can’t tell me otherwise. So don’t try.”
Looking down to brush imaginary dust of my jeans, I stood up, and began to pace. I had started and I had to get it out now, “I see people. Figments, and they talk to me.” I looked up at to gage her reaction to my words. She looked surprisingly calm, but remained silent for a moment. An eternal moment, in which she found it necessary to gulp for air, okay so maybe it was only a slight preparation breath, and who could blame her? Really.
“And what do they say?” Mrs. Lankins asked, in calm, don’t set off the loose cannon, tone.
“They tell me to do things.” I said solemnly, forcing my facial expression into that of complete seriousness, before doubling over in a barrel of laughter.
“Becky?” I vaguely heard Mrs. Lankins ask over my cackling, “Becky? Are you alright?”
I could feel tears of laughter pouring down my face. So this is what it feels like to be a happy insane person. I thought to myself, as I tried to put back together whatever had just snapped inside of me, “No, I’m not. Haven’t you been listening? I’m a total wackjob. Who not only creates, but listens to, imaginary snake people who call themselves, ‘Voldemort’. I mean , come on, do you need to look any further for another person’s picture to put next to the word, ‘insanity’, in the dictionary?” I rambled on, before registering the shocked expression on Mrs. Lankins face. Finally, someone more pale than me.
“Wherever did you hear that name?”