shiver trickled against her spine within her thin nightclothes. Even though there was life in the people and creatures all around them in the theatre, they were still just two frightened girls in the dark. When Jazzy looked up again to the ghost’s last location, she shook her head of wayward curls and gave a pitiful little laugh.
“She’s gone,” she whispered. “She must have realised that I can’t follow her. Stupid legs.”
This last was whispered sharply, and almost lost in the deafening noise as Jazzy took her fists and thumped them hard against her limp thighs. She did it twice more before Lily could catch her wrists to stop her.
“Quit that,” Lily whispered, “you’ll give yourself bruises.”
“What does it matter?” Jazzy asked. “It’s not like I can feel them.”
Lily’s heart sank with a selfish thud. She was worrying about boyfriends, true love and magic, whilst Jazzy was haunted and struggling in the darkness alone. Lily stood up straight and forced every drop of her power to focus, lifting Jazzy so that she floated level with her. The magic seemed to ease the strain from her best friend’s face, and Lily walked them both down the stairs, back towards the prop store that had been transformed into Jazzy’s bedroom.
“Come on,” Lily prompted, “I’ll make you a cuppa. Sugar, no milk. Just how you like it.”
“I thought you had a lecture in the morning?” Jazzy asked in a small, weak-sounding voice.
Lily smiled forlornly and shook her head.
“Something tells me tonight wasn’t made for sleeping,” she mused. “Besides, I think I’d better hear everything about this ghost girl you saw.”
Vivid History
Between Jazzy’s ghost girl and the blue-faced apparition she had seen in the lecture hall ceiling, Lily felt more haunted with every minute she spent under the tutelage of Bradley Binns. In the few weeks that had passed since the start of term, Binns had covered the whole gambit of witch trials worldwide, and now that the first reading week of the year was on the horizon, Lily knew that an assignment would be in order. The inevitable question flashed up on Binns’s projector in the third week of October, where bold black print proclaimed the words:
According to the various historical sources you have explored, determine what you perceive to be humanity’s central beliefs about witchcraft, and how it should be dealt with.
Beside the essay question was an image of a young woman, and Lily started for a moment as she gazed upon the thin, almost triangular jaw of the female. Her memory flashed towards the midnight conversation she’d had after picking Jazzy up from the stairs, and the words that had tumbled from her friend’s lips in a manic jumble of recollection:
“She was small, and sort of dainty, but she could have been our age. She had big black eyes, like bloodhound’s eyes, you know? And dark hair plaited down like Wednesday Addams.”
The image of the witch that Bradley had used to illustrate his assignment was passed around on a paper handout, and when Lily took it in again, Jazzy’s description sent a shiver through her. The girl on the paper definitely had that same classic horror movie vibe that Jazzy had described, and Lily had to reason with herself quite forcefully that the picture she was looking at was probably just the first hit from Google Images that her new professor had stumbled upon. Not trusting her own likelihood to make a spectacle of herself, as she had on day one of classes, Lily stayed in her seat and let the tremble in her legs abate. The hall slowly emptied of students, eager to get to lunch, and soon Lily saw only one figure left on the periphery of her vision.
“You don’t look pleased with the assignment,” Bradley Binns mused, his voice echoing across the now-empty hall.
Lily spared the lecturer a glance. He stood with hands on hips, knuckles resting against the grey wool of his godawful tank vest. Lily opened her mouth,
“She’s gone,” she whispered. “She must have realised that I can’t follow her. Stupid legs.”
This last was whispered sharply, and almost lost in the deafening noise as Jazzy took her fists and thumped them hard against her limp thighs. She did it twice more before Lily could catch her wrists to stop her.
“Quit that,” Lily whispered, “you’ll give yourself bruises.”
“What does it matter?” Jazzy asked. “It’s not like I can feel them.”
Lily’s heart sank with a selfish thud. She was worrying about boyfriends, true love and magic, whilst Jazzy was haunted and struggling in the darkness alone. Lily stood up straight and forced every drop of her power to focus, lifting Jazzy so that she floated level with her. The magic seemed to ease the strain from her best friend’s face, and Lily walked them both down the stairs, back towards the prop store that had been transformed into Jazzy’s bedroom.
“Come on,” Lily prompted, “I’ll make you a cuppa. Sugar, no milk. Just how you like it.”
“I thought you had a lecture in the morning?” Jazzy asked in a small, weak-sounding voice.
Lily smiled forlornly and shook her head.
“Something tells me tonight wasn’t made for sleeping,” she mused. “Besides, I think I’d better hear everything about this ghost girl you saw.”
Vivid History
Between Jazzy’s ghost girl and the blue-faced apparition she had seen in the lecture hall ceiling, Lily felt more haunted with every minute she spent under the tutelage of Bradley Binns. In the few weeks that had passed since the start of term, Binns had covered the whole gambit of witch trials worldwide, and now that the first reading week of the year was on the horizon, Lily knew that an assignment would be in order. The inevitable question flashed up on Binns’s projector in the third week of October, where bold black print proclaimed the words:
According to the various historical sources you have explored, determine what you perceive to be humanity’s central beliefs about witchcraft, and how it should be dealt with.
Beside the essay question was an image of a young woman, and Lily started for a moment as she gazed upon the thin, almost triangular jaw of the female. Her memory flashed towards the midnight conversation she’d had after picking Jazzy up from the stairs, and the words that had tumbled from her friend’s lips in a manic jumble of recollection:
“She was small, and sort of dainty, but she could have been our age. She had big black eyes, like bloodhound’s eyes, you know? And dark hair plaited down like Wednesday Addams.”
The image of the witch that Bradley had used to illustrate his assignment was passed around on a paper handout, and when Lily took it in again, Jazzy’s description sent a shiver through her. The girl on the paper definitely had that same classic horror movie vibe that Jazzy had described, and Lily had to reason with herself quite forcefully that the picture she was looking at was probably just the first hit from Google Images that her new professor had stumbled upon. Not trusting her own likelihood to make a spectacle of herself, as she had on day one of classes, Lily stayed in her seat and let the tremble in her legs abate. The hall slowly emptied of students, eager to get to lunch, and soon Lily saw only one figure left on the periphery of her vision.
“You don’t look pleased with the assignment,” Bradley Binns mused, his voice echoing across the now-empty hall.
Lily spared the lecturer a glance. He stood with hands on hips, knuckles resting against the grey wool of his godawful tank vest. Lily opened her mouth,
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