The Dark Witch

P.O.V. - Becky Sinclair

The look on Mrs. Lankins face stunned me. Why had she gone all serious towards me about a name of my figment? It made no sense, “I just told you, the imaginary snake guy told me his name was Volde…”

“Don’t say that name.” Said Mrs. Lankins sharply, and as grave as she looked, she also gave the appearance of a person about to faint. As she cautiously began to lower herself into the comfortable green chair I had been sitting in earlier. Then, upon sitting, and after a quick look around the room, one that forced me to remind myself that I am the insane one here, she placed a hand to her forehead.

I frowned, stepping towards her. What had I done now? I don’t remember anything particular I had done to start this episode Mrs. Lankins seemed to be having, but then I rarely remembered the specifics of the things I had done to people in the past, “Mrs. Lankins,” I began calmly, kneeling beside the chair, “What’s wrong with that name?”

“Oh, Becky…” Began Mrs. Lankins softly, as she began to worry her hands, turning her gaze towards me, “You know so little and apparently so much. The name and, the albeit brief, description you have given me, is that of the most powerful and dangerous wizard that our world has known.”

I felt shock wave over me for a moment at her words, before frowning again. No, I thought to myself firmly.

“He had been believed to be dead…”

“No.” I said out loud, standing up and backing away from the old woman. Or from here on out, a figment of my imagination, “This isn’t happening. You,” I pointed at the figment of an old woman, “Are just apart of my imagination, and this,” I gestured wildly at my surroundings, “Doesn’t exist. I’m not really here. None of this is really happening and I’m going to wake up from this now.” I could feel tears forming in my eyes. I had longed feared this day. The moment I realized I had gone completely around the bend. It was something I had sworn to myself I would never do. Leave it to an insane person to break their own promise to themselves, “I’m really in my cell,” I began, looking away from the figment, “and I am going to wake up in my comfortable” I laughed inwardly, “straightjacket any moment now.” Nothing happened.

“Becky,” Began the figment.

I shook my head rapidly. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up! I thought furiously. Turning away from the figment, I saw my imaginary bed. Perfect, I thought. Maybe if I lie down and fall asleep, I’ll awake back in my cell. A normal me again, I thought laughingly as I moved to lie down.

“Becky, wait. What are you doing? Stop!” I felt the figment grasp my arm, but I paid it no heed. I must wake up. “Becky, look at me!” Good, I’m aggravating it. Maybe I’ll wake up in a moment, I thought, placing one of my legs on the bed before being violently yanked back from it. Who knew figments were so strong?

“Becky,” Began the imaginary old woman sternly, turning me to face her, “Stop what you are doing. I swear to you this is all very real, child.”

I could feel tears flowing down my cheeks, “No, you’re wrong. It’s not real. I’ve finally lost it.” The figment pulled me into a tight motherly hug, “This isn’t real.” I whispered softly.

“It is. I swear it.” Repeated the figment.

“No, it’s not.” I said softly, my tears wetting her gray hair.

“It is.” Replied Mrs. Lankins gently, “It really is, dear.”