[ Printer Friendly Version ] [ Report Abuse ]
Chapter 4 : Nightmares and Pictures.
| ||Rating: 15+||Chapter Reviews: 4|
Background: Font color:
Grace woke up with a start and began screaming. Green light kept flashing through her mind. Charlotte ran in to find her sheets wet with tears; she looked terrified. “Gracie, what’s the matter? Shh, calm down, it’s okay, I’m here.”
Grace clung to her mother and buried her head in her dressing gown. “Make him stop Mummy, make him stop. He’s hurting him!” Charlotte frowned at the girls words and held her tighter. She kept her voice calm and controlled as she spoke but her mind was far from it.
“Grace, honey, what did you see? Who’s hurting him, who’s being hurt?” Grace pulled away, her eyes full of tears and terror.
“The pale snake man, he was hurting the boy. He made his scar hurt so much, Mummy, make it stop.” Charlotte felt a trill of fear down her spine.
“It’s all right. It was…just a dream. Relax now, go back to sleep. It was all a dream.” Slowly, Grace relaxed and drifted back asleep. As soon as she was sure that Grace was gone she grabbed a few things and silently slipped out the door slipping her long willow wand into her sleeve for easy access. She needed to find her grandmother, Callidora.
She walked down the road and waited quietly to see if anybody was about. When she was sure that no-one was she took a deep breath a disappeared with a small whisper. It was just past midnight when Charlotte appeared on the doorstep of the leaky cauldron.
Her hand hovered over the handle. It had been twelve years since she had had any contact with the magic world, but now, for her daughter’s sake, she had to try. Biting her lip she turned the handle and found her self in the dark room of the pub. Everything had been stacked away but the back door that led to Diagon Alley was still open.
Walking quickly, so as not to alert anyone of her presence, Charlotte crept out of the door and opened up the brick passage way to Diagon Alley. She peered through the passage. All was silent, calm, or dead?
Her hands trembled as she clutched her wand. The thin piece of wood felt odd in her fingers after so long. She walked slowly and silently down the street gazing fearfully at the harmless shop windows. Eventually, she found the opening to Nocturn Alley.
Grace woke up alone. The house was quiet but she guessed her parents were still in bed, she couldn’t quite read the clock yet and so didn’t know that her parents should have left for work two hours ago. Clutching her favourite toy, a little white rabbit, she wandered through into the living room.
The living room had a typically muggle set out. Pictures littered the fireplace, there were many of her and her mother. Grace had once asked her mother if she had any pictures from when she was young but Charlotte had quickly changed the subject. Seeing her colouring book Grace sat down and began drawing. Drawing was one of her favourite things to do.
With her thick wax crayons she tried to draw a picture of her dream last night. In an old house a tall man stood over a stone bowl. He was looking at the water that was in it as if it would show him a great story. Behind him a young woman with pretty blonde hair tied in a plait fell asleep. When Grace had finished her drawing she didn’t sit back and admire it but began drawing on top of it as if it were just a blank piece of paper.
This time the man was happy, he had seen something. The girl was sent away and the man brought out a short stick that he touched to the water. Grace printed a word coming out of his mouth as he waved the stick.
When she finally put down the crayons she smiled, brushing her fingers over the drawing which was now a confusion of coloured shapes. Closing her eyes briefly her fingers moved over the paper lightly, as if she were typing. The colours began to separate and the shapes became clearer.
Grace clapped her hands as the picture she had drawn began to play out like a picture show. The figures moved and began replaying the short scenes she had drawn. At the end of the sequence when the man waved his small stick a word formed by the side of his mouth. Charlotte.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories