Little Witch Lost
Sep. 21st, 2022 07:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apachefirecatTitle: Little Witch Lost
Fandom: Alice in Wonderland Dark AU
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: OFCs, Hatter
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: A Witch escapes from her family's restraints.
Word Count: 1,466
Written For: All Bingo Land of Oz Bingo: Magical Security System, Broomstick, and Magic Hourglass and 100 Fandom Hell Fandom #20
Warnings: Dark! AU, Implied Character Death
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
She couldn't believe it! She had actually escaped her mother's security system! With pumpkins and ghosts watching her every move, not to mention a giant net that would literally drop out of the sky if summoned, it was a very rare treat indeed when she could escape underneath the silver light of the moon to fly alone on her broomstick, but she'd managed that very thing this night, and so close to Halloween too! Of course, for her, Halloween was a family holiday where they were expected to spook all the neighbors and ride over the moon together with their coven. There was no actual fun left in the night, no actual treats or tricks for her or the other young Witches.
But tonight... Tonight she was flying free and high! She zipped by bats and gave owls a spook. She giggled as she did pirouettes in the star-filled sky. She kept no track of how far she was going or where. It didn't matter! All that mattered was that she was free to be her own girl, her own Witch, and though she could hear her mother calling her, she wasn't about to go back until she absolutely had to. In fact, her mother's calls of, "Come back, little Witch," only served to make her fly higher, faster, and harder.
It was only when a good several minutes had passed without her being able to hear the old crone that she slowly descended. She wondered what the children at the nearby school was like, the actual human school or the "townie" school as she'd heard some of the adults call it. She, like other Witches her age, were expected to be home schooled, and her searches on the Internet had told her that there was a great deal in the world on which she was missing out. Her people didn't like technology -- they preferred to rely on magic for everything --, but she loved it. Her fingers could fly over a keyboard and create all sorts of things from her mind, all without ever harming so much as a fly.
Speaking of flies, there was something that had changed in the night air. She dipped lower, feeling a shift in the atmosphere, and found that she was over a body of water from which a nice fog was lifting. She could hear the ribbits of frogs and the splashes of not just those amphibians but others as well. She grinned and mimicked the cry of the full-grown bullfrog, spooking one of the smaller frogs and sending him splashing back into the water. She meant them no harm, but of course, they were not accustomed to humans, not Witches, mortals, or other things... Her grin twisted as she thought slyly that she should call the combination of them all two-leggers. After all, she'd known green-skinned monsters with more class and manners than most actual human beings.
She began to sing. It was a song without words, but it poured from her heart. She thought she vaguely recognized a few of its strands as it blended into the other sounds of the night. She was at home far out here, away from everybody else, she thought, laying backwards on her broomstick. Her mother had often chided her that she might fall doing that, but she never once had.
She soared lazily through the sky, not caring what hour it was for her mother's punishment would be the same no matter what hour at which she returned. After all, it was frowned upon to rise early in her family. They were all supposed to be night owls, and that certainly wasn't the only reason that she stuck out like a sore thumb. She grinned and giggled to herself. Why, a sore, severed, and walking thumb would probably fit in much better with her family, and especially the coven, than she did!
Which was exactly why she could care less how her mother decided to punish her. What was she going to do, lock her in her room again? Ban her from Potions class? Prohibit her from mingling with the other Witches, a lot of teenagers with whom she already could care less about hanging and with whom she had very little in common (although still more than she did with the teenagers in town)? Her only friend was her cat, and she'd already been told repeatedly and sternly that familiars were just another tool of the trade and were never to be friends. Witches didn't have friends after all, only alliances with other like-minded Witches.
She frowned as she sank lower still over the pond. She hung lazily over her broomstick, trailing her fingers across the cool, dark water. Alligators snapped at her, but they didn't dare to touch her for they knew, by scent and by instinct, exactly what she was, what she had been born to be, and dared not anger her. She surprised them each, however, by conjuring dead fish and tossing one each into their mouths. The sardines were merely snacks, she knew, but they were something, at least, to tell the hungry, angry gators that not all two-leggers were mean or to be feared.
Maybe if she ran away...? Maybe she could start something new, a new coven perhaps or possibly even -- dare she dream? -- a gathering of like-minded individuals regardless of their species. That was the thing she liked the most about computers; the World Wide Web -- which, as a child, she'd once thought, and many of the other Witches still did believe, that a spider wove it all together -- was great about bringing together peoples from all cultures, belief systems, lands, and yes, even species. She enjoyed the chat rooms, the multi-player games, and most of all, the interactions with others across the world who shared her same thoughts, ideas, and beliefs.
Maybe she could run away to one of them, one night. She smiled at the thought and was just beginning to allow a daydream to form when she heard another voice singing. She stopped her own song instantly and listened more intently. The singer was male and had a strange accent unlike any she'd heard before. The accent only meant that he might be interesting to talk with, but the song... The song was strange indeed. Something about a very merry unbirthday?
She listened more intently as she drew to the end of the pond. She could see the man with pale skin, nimble fingers, and wild eyes, but he did not yet appear to see her. He was sewing together hats of all colors, shapes, and sizes. She hovered where she was, watching him from what she thought to be a safe distance, as he darted the needle in and out of the hats until suddenly, quite unexpectedly, his head popped up and he looked directly at her from those wild, red-rimmed eyes. "A very merry unbirthday to you!" he called, pointing at her with his darting needle.
She squeaked and started to fly away, but he sprung to his feet and tossed the string of hats at her. They ballooned around her, knocking her from her broomstick who whinnied as it went down. She struggled as she turned, caught in the air, caught in the hats... And then, suddenly, there was a popping sound, and only her coned Witch's hat drifted down to the ground in the midst of all the other hats.
The Hatter smiled and stepped forward to pick up his latest addition. "Yes, yes," he murmured, stroking the black velvet. "Very nice indeed. There's still magic in this one too." He smiled, feeling the girl trying to scream but knowing she could not. He picked up the hat and tossed it onto the huge, multi-colored pile of hats upon which he'd been working.
The girl was still trying to scream, bless her, but try as she might, she would never make another sound. The Hatter paused only to flip over his magical hourglass and then sat, his legs folding beneath him, in the air again. He resumed his quick darts as he waited for the next, disobedient child to come.
The broomstick, meanwhile, had whinnied, crying for its charge, all the way home. It did not stop its flight until a pale hand reached out and plucked it from the midnight air. The Witch looked forlornly down at the broomstick. The stick whinnied once more and then fell silent, as did the Witch. There was no use any longer in continuing to call out, "Little Witch, come home," for her little Witch would never again come home. The night was quiet again except for the buzzing of flies, the occasional snapping of a gator, and the tears of a lone, old, and lonely crone Witch.
The End
Fandom: Alice in Wonderland Dark AU
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: OFCs, Hatter
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: A Witch escapes from her family's restraints.
Word Count: 1,466
Written For: All Bingo Land of Oz Bingo: Magical Security System, Broomstick, and Magic Hourglass and 100 Fandom Hell Fandom #20
Warnings: Dark! AU, Implied Character Death
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
She couldn't believe it! She had actually escaped her mother's security system! With pumpkins and ghosts watching her every move, not to mention a giant net that would literally drop out of the sky if summoned, it was a very rare treat indeed when she could escape underneath the silver light of the moon to fly alone on her broomstick, but she'd managed that very thing this night, and so close to Halloween too! Of course, for her, Halloween was a family holiday where they were expected to spook all the neighbors and ride over the moon together with their coven. There was no actual fun left in the night, no actual treats or tricks for her or the other young Witches.
But tonight... Tonight she was flying free and high! She zipped by bats and gave owls a spook. She giggled as she did pirouettes in the star-filled sky. She kept no track of how far she was going or where. It didn't matter! All that mattered was that she was free to be her own girl, her own Witch, and though she could hear her mother calling her, she wasn't about to go back until she absolutely had to. In fact, her mother's calls of, "Come back, little Witch," only served to make her fly higher, faster, and harder.
It was only when a good several minutes had passed without her being able to hear the old crone that she slowly descended. She wondered what the children at the nearby school was like, the actual human school or the "townie" school as she'd heard some of the adults call it. She, like other Witches her age, were expected to be home schooled, and her searches on the Internet had told her that there was a great deal in the world on which she was missing out. Her people didn't like technology -- they preferred to rely on magic for everything --, but she loved it. Her fingers could fly over a keyboard and create all sorts of things from her mind, all without ever harming so much as a fly.
Speaking of flies, there was something that had changed in the night air. She dipped lower, feeling a shift in the atmosphere, and found that she was over a body of water from which a nice fog was lifting. She could hear the ribbits of frogs and the splashes of not just those amphibians but others as well. She grinned and mimicked the cry of the full-grown bullfrog, spooking one of the smaller frogs and sending him splashing back into the water. She meant them no harm, but of course, they were not accustomed to humans, not Witches, mortals, or other things... Her grin twisted as she thought slyly that she should call the combination of them all two-leggers. After all, she'd known green-skinned monsters with more class and manners than most actual human beings.
She began to sing. It was a song without words, but it poured from her heart. She thought she vaguely recognized a few of its strands as it blended into the other sounds of the night. She was at home far out here, away from everybody else, she thought, laying backwards on her broomstick. Her mother had often chided her that she might fall doing that, but she never once had.
She soared lazily through the sky, not caring what hour it was for her mother's punishment would be the same no matter what hour at which she returned. After all, it was frowned upon to rise early in her family. They were all supposed to be night owls, and that certainly wasn't the only reason that she stuck out like a sore thumb. She grinned and giggled to herself. Why, a sore, severed, and walking thumb would probably fit in much better with her family, and especially the coven, than she did!
Which was exactly why she could care less how her mother decided to punish her. What was she going to do, lock her in her room again? Ban her from Potions class? Prohibit her from mingling with the other Witches, a lot of teenagers with whom she already could care less about hanging and with whom she had very little in common (although still more than she did with the teenagers in town)? Her only friend was her cat, and she'd already been told repeatedly and sternly that familiars were just another tool of the trade and were never to be friends. Witches didn't have friends after all, only alliances with other like-minded Witches.
She frowned as she sank lower still over the pond. She hung lazily over her broomstick, trailing her fingers across the cool, dark water. Alligators snapped at her, but they didn't dare to touch her for they knew, by scent and by instinct, exactly what she was, what she had been born to be, and dared not anger her. She surprised them each, however, by conjuring dead fish and tossing one each into their mouths. The sardines were merely snacks, she knew, but they were something, at least, to tell the hungry, angry gators that not all two-leggers were mean or to be feared.
Maybe if she ran away...? Maybe she could start something new, a new coven perhaps or possibly even -- dare she dream? -- a gathering of like-minded individuals regardless of their species. That was the thing she liked the most about computers; the World Wide Web -- which, as a child, she'd once thought, and many of the other Witches still did believe, that a spider wove it all together -- was great about bringing together peoples from all cultures, belief systems, lands, and yes, even species. She enjoyed the chat rooms, the multi-player games, and most of all, the interactions with others across the world who shared her same thoughts, ideas, and beliefs.
Maybe she could run away to one of them, one night. She smiled at the thought and was just beginning to allow a daydream to form when she heard another voice singing. She stopped her own song instantly and listened more intently. The singer was male and had a strange accent unlike any she'd heard before. The accent only meant that he might be interesting to talk with, but the song... The song was strange indeed. Something about a very merry unbirthday?
She listened more intently as she drew to the end of the pond. She could see the man with pale skin, nimble fingers, and wild eyes, but he did not yet appear to see her. He was sewing together hats of all colors, shapes, and sizes. She hovered where she was, watching him from what she thought to be a safe distance, as he darted the needle in and out of the hats until suddenly, quite unexpectedly, his head popped up and he looked directly at her from those wild, red-rimmed eyes. "A very merry unbirthday to you!" he called, pointing at her with his darting needle.
She squeaked and started to fly away, but he sprung to his feet and tossed the string of hats at her. They ballooned around her, knocking her from her broomstick who whinnied as it went down. She struggled as she turned, caught in the air, caught in the hats... And then, suddenly, there was a popping sound, and only her coned Witch's hat drifted down to the ground in the midst of all the other hats.
The Hatter smiled and stepped forward to pick up his latest addition. "Yes, yes," he murmured, stroking the black velvet. "Very nice indeed. There's still magic in this one too." He smiled, feeling the girl trying to scream but knowing she could not. He picked up the hat and tossed it onto the huge, multi-colored pile of hats upon which he'd been working.
The girl was still trying to scream, bless her, but try as she might, she would never make another sound. The Hatter paused only to flip over his magical hourglass and then sat, his legs folding beneath him, in the air again. He resumed his quick darts as he waited for the next, disobedient child to come.
The broomstick, meanwhile, had whinnied, crying for its charge, all the way home. It did not stop its flight until a pale hand reached out and plucked it from the midnight air. The Witch looked forlornly down at the broomstick. The stick whinnied once more and then fell silent, as did the Witch. There was no use any longer in continuing to call out, "Little Witch, come home," for her little Witch would never again come home. The night was quiet again except for the buzzing of flies, the occasional snapping of a gator, and the tears of a lone, old, and lonely crone Witch.
The End
