Witchy and the Magic Picture Frame CONTINUED
The plants screamed, ‘HELP!
HELP!
HELP!
Then they changed into skeletons:
sad skeletons,
happy skeletons,
calm skeletons,
nervous skeletons,
and pregnant skeletons.
Witchy could tell the sad
skeletons were pretending to be sad.
The happy were pretending.
The calm were pretending.
The nervous were pretending.
The pregnant were pretending.
The door cracked loudly.
Her head whipped to the door.
‘THE DOOR!’ she realised in her mind not loudly.
She had to get to the door.
‘The door
might be the way out the frame I don’t adore!’
She scrambled, swerved, past skeletons,
past chomping joint-clicking skeletons.
Some bit her, some missed.
Their breathe—she was used to—smelt like cauldron mist.
She made it to the beat-up drawers
full of chores.
The calm skeletons fired ribs at her—not
one hit her—and she in great panic ran to the door, and out into the hallway of black rot.
Emotionlessly, the skeletons chanted: ‘BRAIN. BRAIN.
EAT HER BRAIN.
BRAIN. BRAIN. EAT HER BRAIN.’
Witchy, in great panic, searched
and searched.
No doors to go through
to take her back, and no picture frames to go through
to take her back. ‘Oh what do I do!’
She had to hide.
She stepped on loose boards.
‘Ah, under those I can hide!’
She fast buried herself out
of sight as the skeletons soldiered out.
She tried not to breathe as they with shout,
great shout,
trod over her on their way out.
A week slothed by...
She was so so angry with herself for she’d
missed, she'd
missed the Halloween party. She’d
had to lie in the
filth (she needed a shower!) under the
boards for a week (the skeletons
the horrible skeletons,
kept coming in and out of the
hallway) until an early-morning The
Magic Picture Frame knocked on the
boards. At least she could go home,
home
to see Noom. She was so relieved
(though very dirty-sleeved!).
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