Writer's Island Spellbound

A piece for Writer’s Island, inspired by the prompt SPELLBOUND.

SPELLBOUND

“Well, whatever you choose to call it… if it worked once then surely it’ll work again?” Elvira drew her wand from her pocket slowly and tapped it against her thigh as she gazed at Alice thoughtfully, who watched her movements nervously. The little girl took Bartholomew’s hand, drawing closer to the young wizard for protection who swathed her in his robes like a baby’s blanket.

Bartholomew clasped at the little black and white figure, suddenly feeling a great sympathy for her.

“Don’t, Elvira. She’s not used to magic remember… and anyway, we’ve already discovered that the floo powder doesn’t work in Victorian times. See if your wand will work?”

She stared at him icily for a long moment, and then a slow smile spread across her face, but it didn’t seem to hold any mirth in it.

“You will remember, Mr Dross, that I am a witch of great learning and power. Never mind the naff floo powder, that was just a mistake on the part of Merlin’s Magic Store.” She continued to beat time steadily on the palm of her hand, the red and white striped wand rising and falling. “But magic must still be able to reach here, to summon it to obedience.” She glanced at Bartholomew, her expression softening slightly. “What do you think, Bartholomew? Shall I try a little spell on Alice?”

The black and white paper girl tried to pull Bartholomew’s robes even further around her, appearing even whiter than ever.

“Please, I don’t want to become anything other than what I am – a little Victorian girl.” Alice pleaded in a tiny voice. “I’ve had quite enough of changes lately, coming through the looking glass was quite enough magic for me.”

Reaching out in front of her, Elvira pulled the Teniel illustration back out into the open.

“Be brave, my dear. Think of this as a pioneering experience for others to follow.”

As Alice stumbled over the fender and stood before the witch awkwardly, Bartholomew could only stand and watch Elvira wave her wand back and forth over Alice’s head. Alice seemed to become even more static and sketchy… her expression absolutely rigid and blank, completely devoid of life, she appeared to be after all, just an illustration from an old book. Elvira waved her wand a couple more times in flourish.

“There we are… I think that’ll do for now. We have her completely spellbound, wouldn’t you say, Bartholomew?”