Garth Nix - The Ragwitch

“It’s evil!” exclaimed Paul, unable to believe his sister had become entranced by such a horrific thing. She hadn’t even said anything about the giant crow and now only had eyes for a grotesque doll.

“No, she isn’t!” snapped Julia, clutching the doll to her and getting to her feet. “Her name is…her name is…”

“The Ragwitch,” intoned a voice in Paul’s mind, like the bass boom of a warning bell.

“Her name is Sylvie,” said Julia, kissing it on the forehead. “Yes – I shall call her Sylvie.”

As Julia kissed the rag doll, Paul thought he almost saw it curl a lip in satisfaction. He blinked–the doll’s lips were unmoving, sewn into a perpetual smile.

Their walk back to the house felt strange to Paul. Normally, Julia skipped ahead, shouting at him to come and look at things, or just to catch up. Now she lagged behind, clutching the rag doll, hardly looking to left or right.

Crossing over from beach to grass, Paul felt more cheerful. They were almost at their house, and surely his parents would notice Julia’s odd behaviour; and they wouldn’t approve of picking up a strange doll from the beach, particularly if he told them about the giant crow.

But he didn’t. Within the first ten minutes, Paul knew that his mother couldn’t see the rag doll. She’d even straightened Julia’s shirt without paying any attention to the doll cradled in the girl’s arms. If she couldn’t see the doll, his businesslike father didn’t have a hope. And Julia’s behaviour was put down to tiredness–normal after the first day’s holiday at the beach.

“What about me?” Paul wanted to ask. “I’m not tired! Anyway, Julia never gets tired!”

But he knew that they wouldn’t understand this simple logic. After all, they had a logic of their own. If Julia was tired, then Paul must be even more tired–so both of them would go to bed early.

Instead of going to bed and trying to forget his troubles, Paul went over to Julia’s room. She was lying in bed, whispering to the doll. She didn’t notice Paul until he spoke.

“Julia,” Paul said anxiously, “Mum and Dad can’t see your doll.”

“I know,” replied Julia smugly, looking up from the doll.

“She told me that they wouldn’t. You shouldn’t be able to either, you know.”

“Well, I can see it!” cried Paul angrily. “And I don’t like it. It’s evil and horrible, and it’s making you go all strange!”

Julia was silent for a second, then she looked into the doll’s black-pupilled eyes. They seemed to sparkle with their own dark flame, telling her what to do.

“Goodnight, Paul,” Julia said remotely. “Please turn the light off when you go.”

“No,” said Paul. “The doll told you to say that. You can see it in its eyes. Throw it away, Julia!”

Julia shivered, and Paul saw a tremor pass across her face. Slowly, she began to turn her head back to the Ragwitch, drawn to the black-glinting eyes. Horrified, Paul dashed forward to grab it, to throw it away–anywhere away from Julia.

But when he touched the doll, it spat aloud and huddled closer to Julia, twining its three-fingered hands through her hair. And a chill voice burst into Paul’s head, hurting the inside of his ears and somehow cutting at his mind.

“I am the Ragwitch!” screamed the voice in his head. “Your sister is nothing–she is only part of ME!”

With that “ME!”, the Ragwitch screamed again, still inside Paul’s head. He felt his arms stiffen, the muscles tensing, and suddenly he felt himself being hurled backwards, without control, to land sprawling against the door. Desperately, he tried to get his hands to obey him, but they crept up the door towards the light-switch, and then, with a frenzied twitch, flicked off the lights.

In the darkness, the Ragwitch spoke again, but this time the voice was real–and it came from Julia. Low and hissing, it crawled about Paul, sending shivers from his stomach out along his spine.

“Leave, boy. What can you do against my power? Your sister is mine and MINE ALONE!”

Paul shuddered under the impact of the voice and felt tears start in his eyes. The voice got into his head, and again his hands were moving, under Her control. Slowly, his hand turned the doorknob and his legs began shuffling him out, away from Julia, out of the darkness and into the light.

“No,” said Julia, in her normal, everyday voice. She sat up in bed and looked straight at Paul. A shaft of light from the open door caught her face, and as their eyes met, Paul felt his muscles relax. Hesitantly, he tried to move and found himself free of Her control.

“She wants to take me somewhere,” whispered Julia, her face contorting under some great, unseen pressure. “Paul, you must…She wants to take me to…”

Looking into Julia’s eyes, Paul saw them suddenly glow and change colour–a black wash floating out to cover the white. Slowly, the black coalesced around the pupil, and the white started to green over in exact duplication of the rag doll’s evil eyes.

Paul felt himself becoming drowsy, looking into those gleaming, black-pupilled eyes. They seemed to get bigger, become like lanterns…lanterns illuminating a ground far below, as he fell towards them…

“Run!” screamed Julia–the real Julia. “Paul! Run!”

Shocked free from the mesmeric eyes, Paul turned and ran, slamming the door behind him.

Paul spent the rest of the night half-awake, with the light on and his door open. Every time a board creaked, he felt a start of fear–but the house was old and prone to settling, and nothing stalked him through the night. His parents, normally guardians against fear, slept with an unnatural soundness and could not be woken.

At last, towards dawn, fear became weaker than exhaustion and Paul fell into a troubled sleep. He dreamt of giant black crows screaming in from the sky, only to turn into huge rag dolls, with black-pupilled eyes against green–eyes that grew larger and larger, and more menacing, filling the whole horizon with their glowing evil…

With a stifled scream, Paul fell out of bed, dragging the blankets with him. It took a few seconds for him to really wake up and his heart to slow its pounding. Bright, cheery sunlight filtered in around the curtains. Sleepily, Paul looked at the radio clock next to his bed. It said six o’clock – at least an hour too early to get up. Paul yawned and climbed back into bed, rearranging the blankets with a few kicks and half-hearted dragging motions.

He was just rearranging the pillow when he heard the front door close–the slight, snicking sound of someone easing the door shut as quietly as possible.

Paul knew it had to be Julia. His parents never woke up before eight. He felt an unpleasant butterfly in his stomach, remembering the events of the night before. And Julia’s words: “She wants to take me somewhere.”

“I’ll have to save her,” said Paul aloud, hoping the sound of his own voice would make him feel better. But it didn’t – it only made everything seem even scarier than before. He just didn’t know what to do. Julia was the one who knew what to do–Julia was the one who always knew, and now she was the problem.

Paul felt tears welling up in his eyes and a terrible feeling of hopelessness swept over him. What would Julia do, if it was me? he suddenly thought–and there was the answer. Julia wouldn’t abandon him, so he wouldn’t abandon her. He quickly threw on his clothes, laced his sandshoes and ran out of the house, not bothering to be quiet with the door.

There was no sign of Julia, but her tracks were easy to follow across the sand and down to the sea. Paul ran at first, but he soon slowed down. It was too tiring to run on sand.

But Julia hadn’t stopped at the sea. Turning along the coast, she was heading for the rocky spit–or the Midden. Paul thought he knew which one it would be. Grimly, he began to run again, up towards the Midden, the hill of ancient bones.