Wonder Witch 5 – The Ghost Of Lazarus House (Or The Origin of Wonder Witch)

It wasn’t hard to find, right at the top of the hill that locals called ‘Witch’s Hill’ in front of the local cemetery and standing in the shade of a large, spreading chestnut tree; a white gravestone, in quite remarkable condition considering it was a hundred and fifty years old and, engraved upon the face of it, were the words ‘Lazarus House 1753 – 1859’.

“My notorious ancestor”, said Marjorie Morris kneeling down infront of the stone to examine it more closely, “We meet at last. I’ve heard so much about you”.

It was funny. Marjorie had assumed that when she came close to the stone there would be some connection, some spark of electricity. She’d been born with ‘the gift’ and she’d always imagined
she must have inherited it from ancient Uncle Lazarus. Her mother loved to tell visitors
that they had a witch in their family tree, especially at her Halloween themed get-togethers, and she’d built up a mental impression of him as some powerful mystic; almost superhuman but now that she was face to face, so to speak, with the great man himself, she didn’t feel anything, just cold white stone.

“You’re very brave to come up here alone, young lady”, said a kind elderly male voice from behind her, “I can tell you aint one of the locals”.

“No”, said Marjorie, smiling as she rose and turned to face an old white haired gentleman who she thought rather tall with an imposing air and strong steel grey eyes, “No, I’m just visiting; researching my family history. I live in Greenwich Village but my family are from Connecticut, originally. I’m also doing some research for my postgraduate thesis on American Witchcraft in the 17th Century. Lazarus House was my ancestor”.

“Ahh”, said the old man smiling, knowingly, “Perhaps that’s why you’re not afraid. See, none of the local folk would ever dare come up here alone. They think the spot is haunted. Folks talk about seeing strange lights up on this hill; ‘specially about Halloween. They say the Ghost of Lazarus House roams around at night. Some even claim to have seen him appear on the road out yonder, the one that goes past the cemetary. One man even crashed his car into a tree because, according to him, Old Lazarus appeared one night, right in the middle of the road, and he had swerve to avoid him, ofcourse, I think he’d been drinking a little too much and just made the whole story up for something to tell his insurance company”.

“Well”, chuckled Marjorie, amused at hearing about the ghostly antics of her wicked predecessor, “Nothing very Spooky has happened to me so far. In fact, I’m almost a little disappointed”.

But, just then, Marjorie felt something strange and quite frightening; like a horrible evil presence; something watching them from nearby and then, startling her, a cold gust of wind suddenly blew past her, ruffling her long blonde wavy hair and touching the hairs on the back of her neck, making them stand on end.

“What was that?”, said Marjorie, trembling and looking round about her frantically.

“Oh, probably just the wind, that’s all”, said the old man, “It can get pretty chilly up here sometimes, late in the evening”.

But Marjorie wasn’t convinced.

“No, I’m”, she replied, hesitating for a moment then grinning apologetically, “You’re going to think I’m a little bit nutty but I’ve always had a sort of, what you might call a Sixth Sense and I’m sure that I felt something strange; sinister almost, nearby”.

“Perhaps it was the Ghost of Old Lazarus, popping up to say hello”, said the man, chuckling but with a tone of sympathy rather than mockery.

“Nope”, said Marjorie, shaking her head, her eyes darting back and forth in thought, “I don’t think this was something that was ever human”.

But, just at that moment, there was a loud peal of thunder in the skies overhead and the old man said to her, “I think you best go back to your hotel, miss or wherever it is you’re staying. Looks like the weathers about to turn a mite inclement”.

“Good idea”, said Marjorie, smiling and nodding, heading hurriedly back towards the path that ran down the hill, before turning her head, about to add, “But thanks for our conversation”.

However, the moment Marjorie turned to look over her shoulder, her eyes were greeted with one of the most terrifying and strange sights she had ever witnessed.

A creature, more of shadow than of flesh, with two tall black horns rising from either side of its head; three broad goat like legs with cloven hooves and large flapping bat like wings; its eyes blazing with a bright red, ethereal glow, was standing opposite the old man holding a large pitchfork of solid shadow raised threateningly in an enormous, taloned left hand.

“No!”, the old man called out, “You will not have her!”.

“You owe me, old man”, replied the creature, in a voice like a cavern full of echoing thunder, “If you will not return the powers you have stolen from me then I will take something else in exchange; something that’s important to you”.

Then Marjorie gasped as she saw the creature raise its clawed left hand and point its strange shadowy trident towards her; its three prongs lighting up with a peculiar bright blue energy,
“You will come into the Shadowness with me”, it said, an evil grin as bright as fire spreading across its dark features.

But, suddenly, to her further astonishment aswell as her great relief, the old man that had been standing behind the creature only a second earlier was now, somehow, standing right beside her.

“Take my hand!”, he shouted to her, “Quickly!”.

Instinctively, Marjorie reached out her right hand and felt it seized by a powerful grip that seemed also to pulse with some strong supernatural force.

“What is that…that thing!?”, asked Marjorie, her eyes wide and white with terror and amazement.

“The Shadowling”, he said, staring straight ahead, “ Its form is merely an illusion but its powers are real enough. I was never strong enough to defeat it alone but perhaps, together, we might be”.

And then, almost as if the old man’s hand had reached inside her and flipped some kind of ‘on’ switch, Marjorie felt that same strong, pulsating supernatural force inside of her too; spreading outwards from her heart and reverberating throughout her entire body and then, looking down at both her hands, she began to notice not only the throbbing of the force but also an ethereal golden glow that was emanating from her fingers and spreading round about her like some kind of protective shield.

A long, jagged bolt of blue lightning shot straight towards her from the shadow creatures pitchfork and her heart leapt as she thought that she was going to die and join that creature in its dark realm but, wonderously, the golden forcefield that was now surrounding her and the old man completely like some kind of bright, transparent shell was stopping the black shadowlings evil lightning from touching her.

“Now”, bellowed the old man like some kind of Biblical prophet, stretching out his free hand towards the creature and spreading his fingers, “Shadows of place your into backwards go! Return to never!”.

The dark creature, at first, merely seemed amused by the old man’s peculiar incantation but then, as a mouth like gateway appeared behind it, spreading open glowing, grim looking jaws, the Shadowlings mirth turned to fear and anguish; its glowing red grin becoming a flaming gasp
and, all at once, Marjorie saw a fiery whirlwind reach out of the unearthly portal and grasp
hold of the creature by its jagged bat-like wings, tearing forcefully upon them while, struggling helplessly against its strange magnetism, the dark demon let out a loud, terrifying scream of despair.

And then, all within the blink of an eye, it and the flaming, magical maelstrom were gone, vanished into the evening air.

“Thank the powers of goodness”, said the old man, solemnly and with a deep sigh of relief, “Hopefully the Shadowling will never come back again and now I can do what I must do”.

“Who are you?”, asked Marjorie, as the old man let go of her hand, the light of their forcefield fading
and the throbbing of its supernatural energy, dying down.

“Lazarus House”, said the man, smiling and looking deep into her eyes, “Your ancestor or, atleast, his spirit. As a naïve young man, I dabbled in the occult when, one day, I accidentally summoned the Shadowling, a monster of the Shadow realm, who latched himself on to me but, in so doing, transferred some of his power to me. I never could have defeated him without your help.You really do have the family gift and now you will have so much more; the power that I took from the demon. I now pass it onto you so that you may use it to do good in the world the way I always hoped to do but never could”.

“You mean…become a witch?”, asked Marjorie.

“No, more than just a witch”, said Lazarus, his eyes starting to gleam full of a bright hopefulness, “A wonder witch. A defender of the powerless and a righter of wrongs”.

And, as he said these words, Marjorie realized that his face was becoming, somehow, transparent
and,looking up into his eyes she could see the pinky-golden sky and the clouds and the waning sun peering through them.

“You’re disappearing”, said Marjorie, dismayed, reaching out and grabbing hold of his hand again, trying to keep a firm grip on it but feeling it melt away within her grasp, spilling out between her fingers.

“I am going towards my appointed rest. At long last, Eternity”, said the vanishing man and then his smile was all that was left of him and then even that was gone.

“I’ll never forget you”, she said, a tear running down her right cheek but then she heard the sound of a bird chirping in the branches of a nearby tree and she realized that she was alone and, looking round about her, confused, she wondered if perhaps it had not all been some bizarre sort of day dream.

But something was different. She was different. Somehow, she felt more powerful than she had ever done before almost like some kind of superwoman or a, what had the old man called it? Yes, that was it, a Wonder Witch.