The Three Worlds of the Witches

By Mary Seaton

The powerful story of a young girl who stands accused of being a witch.Forced to leave her home and family and flee from an angry mob, Carmelia finds herself in the forest alone, frightened and cold. Carmelia also finds an iner strength that she didnt know she had.

She outruns the mob who is hell bent on burning her only to succumb to fatigue and fever before she reaches her aunts house. As she lays down her head unable to go on she passes into a deep slumber.

When she wakens she finds herself in a very strange place inhabited by very strange beings. Unbeknown to her she is about to embark on a remarkable and epic journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Feb 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452504179

Book preview

THE THREE WORLDS

OF THE WITCHES

A Novel By

Mary Seaton

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Copyright © 2012 by Rosanna Mary Hoppo.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

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Printed in the United States of America

Balboa Press rev. date: 02/15/2012

Contents

About the author

Chapter 1

WITCH HUNT BY MOONLIGHT

Chapter 2

THE GIFT OF SIGHT

Chapter 3

THE MAGIC THAT WITCHES DO

Chapter 4

A JOURNEY OF PERIL

Chapter 5

A DESTINATION MOST FANTASTIC

Chapter 6

RIDE THE STORM

Chapter 7

TOLMAR, TALL AND TRUE

Chapter 8

A BLESSED EVENT

Chapter 9

A NIGHT OF JOY AND WEEPING

Chapter 10

AN EXTRAORDINARY LIFE

To Tracey for whom this book was written

About the author

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Rosanna Mary Hoppo 2010

Born Rosanna Mary Seaton in Pemberton WA.The daughter of a rabbit trapper (returned war hero) she grew up travelling all over Australia. She was educated to high school standard doing correspondence (school of the air). Along with her sister Judith Seaton was taught by their mother Maida. At age fourteen she was sent to boarding school in Broken Hill and left school at end of year twelve. Growing up in the great Australian outback her parents’ based themselves out of Tibooburra and this she adopted as her home town. She married in South Australia and all her children were born in that state. Rosanna went on to become a truck driver until she could no longer do it and then became a security guard and worked up on the Olympic Dam mine. She started writing in her late forties.

Chapter 1

WITCH HUNT BY MOONLIGHT

Delia was a good girl; she had always been agreeable and easy to get along with although her obliging nature often meant she was taken advantage of. She was a hard working girl with never a grumble, not even when she was tired. Her mother leaned heavily on her to help with raising her rather large brood of eight. She had never gone to school and so she couldn’t read or count but she could cook and sew and clean, even help her father in the dairy.

Delia never minded how long her day was or how much work she had to do. She watched and worried over her mother who was thin and frail. She had an idea that her mother’s ill health was somehow due to her large number of pregnancies; giving birth to yet another almost every year. Some of the babies didn’t make it of course and this always saddened Delia.

Delia’s’ father was a poor farmer and he relied on her older brother, Tom who was seventeen to help with the running of the farm. Delia herself was sixteen and in some people’s eyes, quite old enough to be starting her own family. The very thought of leaving her mother terrified her.

The remaining six children ranged in age from thirteen down to two and they all did their share. Delia hoped against hope that her mother would stop having babies and maybe her health would improve some.

Delia believed in her heart of hearts that she would have her mother for many years to come and she tried to push these thoughts away. Instead she concentrated her efforts on being more help to her so that she could rest more. It was hard work just keeping the food up to them all and her days were full. Come the night time and she was always exhausted and ready for bed. But not this night.

This night her uncle Fred was in the kitchen talking excitedly in whispers to her parents. That the conversation was heated and about her she didn’t doubt for a moment, and snippets of the conversation that she caught filled her with dread. She was nervous, frightened in fact so she decided to go for a walk. She wanted to get away having no idea what to expect.

Delia walked down the backyard and leaned heavily on the fence. She gazed out over the meadow where her father’s cows were sleeping. The moon was shining bright and everything looked clean and neat. She loved these nights but found no comfort in it now.

She turned and looked back towards the house, her cousin Ben was in the kitchen also and she hated him. Delia knew there was something wrong with him, the way he looked at her and tried to touch her when no one was looking. Her uncle Fred wasn’t any better. It wasn’t right she shook her head and now they were trying to do her more harm. Of that she was absolutely certain.

Delia turned back to the field and watched for a moment as fluffy white clouds raced across the moon as if they were afraid of it. She shivered. She had always been afraid of her uncle, and she knew her mother was to. She wondered if her father knew what he did to her and her mother. She doubted it; her father just wasn’t very strong but a good man nevertheless. But Uncle Fred was a domineering sort and had always worn him down. Fred’s’ wife had died years since giving birth to their son.

Delia was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear her cousin come up behind her until he hissed in her ear. His hand went to her rump and she slapped it away. Not tonight, tonight she stood up for herself and for her family.

‘You are in big trouble now Delia Stonewall, big trouble’ he gloated thrusting his face to an inch from her own. He laughed in her face, his breath hot and foul smelling. His lips were parted and his fat face wobbled as he laughed.

Delia had a sudden urge to scratch his eyes out and before she could stop herself she had tried to do just that. She experienced a certain satisfaction as she felt warm oily skin under her finger nails. She brought her nails right down the length of his face.

Ben jumped back his hands came up to cover his face which was oozing blood. Delia watched mesmerised as he ran screaming back to the house. And Delia felt not a jot of sympathy or compassion for his pain, just cold satisfaction.

‘Let them do what they like to me now’ she hissed under her breath ‘but they don’t just hurt me when they want to anymore. No by God, no more of it.’ Delia realised that her teeth were clamped shut and her jaw ached. Try as she might she could not help a bitter smile at the screaming that was coming from the house. She turned her back and looked once more out over the field awash in beautiful moonlight.

She was jolted from her musings when her mother’s hands clasped her shoulders and she turned Delia to face her and shook her. ‘Her mother’s expression was one of alarm and concern. She pulled her beloved daughter into her arms and held her there.

‘Oh my dearest daughter, you have brought trouble on us this night. Do you know that your cousin may lose the sight in one eye? Why Delia? Why did you do it? We are in enough trouble to…’ She got no farther as she was hoisted aside by Delia’s uncle Fred who enlightened Delia as to the exact purpose of his visit.

‘Tis true what they are saying about her you see?’ he cast an eye over at his brother who was looking at his daughter. ‘You see what she is capable of?’ He poked his big face close to the frightened girls; sweat ran down his fat cheeks which wobbled as he bobbed his head up and down. The sneer on his face curled his thick pudgy lips back to reveal a row of rotting green black teeth, some no more than stumps jutting up out of his gums. How she loathed this man. He went on, his voice a low snarl, ‘they accuse you in the village of being a witch.’

He stepped back and smiled and nodded his satisfaction at the look of terror on her face. ‘Yes that’s right girly; they have accused you of witchcraft.’ He said the last word slowly, drawing it out, savouring the moment. His hatred contorting his face into an ugly sinister demonic vision. He went on ‘they were coming to get you tonight but I convinced them to wait til morning. A witch hunt by moonlight be bad luck I told ’em. Well now, look how you repay me. I came running out here to warn your parents and for my trouble you blind my only son. My only child you nasty whore of a g…’

A sickening thud stopped her uncle short. She had never seen her father hit anyone and now here he was laying into his brother as if he meant to kill him. Delia felt sick she bent down and heaved the contents of her stomach out on the ground.

Her uncle’s face was a bloody mess and her mother was trying to get her father to stop. ‘Please no more, we are in enough trouble this night. Stop, we must think what to do Francis. We must act quickly.’

Delia watched her father straighten up and level a look on his wife that was as frightened as it was frightening. Uncle Fred scrambled to his feet and staggered off into the dark calling his son to him as he went.

When Delia’s father spoke his voice was shaky but calm ‘how long has it been going on Mortence, how long? Just tell me.’ He dropped his head in his hands and a loud sob escaped him, he looked beaten, all in. Delia still felt sick she knew what could happen to witches and she knew her father wouldn’t be able to save her. She pitied him at that moment, she pitied her mother she pitied herself she even pitied her brother Tom who stood with a bewildered expression on his face. They all stared from one to the other.

It was her mother who snapped out of it first saying ‘we haven’t time for that now. We must get Delia prepared for her trip… .’

‘Trip? What trip are you talking about? Where… ?’ Her fathers’ voice trailed off and he looked tired to the point of collapse yet a small hope shone from his tired eyes.

‘Well Delia will have to go to her aunt Rowena’s in the east country. She can’t stay here they will kill her. You know they will. Oh come on Francis help me.’ She took his arm and shook it ‘please help me’!

‘Alright, alright, but if that sister of yours gets an inkling of what’s been going on here… , you know… she’ll throw her in the street. So you’d best think up a story but you’re good at that aren’t you?’ He turned and stalked off into the house.

Delia watched her mother drop her head and wag it from side to side. ‘Mum please, you can’t send me away I don’t want to go. Just tell them mum, tell them I’m a good girl. They’ll listen to you they will! Please…’ Delia was sobbing now and tears rained down her face.

‘Oh please don’t cry my precious child.’ She put her arms out to her daughter and hugged her to her bosom. ‘Come now we must make you ready ‘she led her child back to the house. The child she had looked to for so many things, the child she adored. She must part with Delia whom she had raised from a baby and now helped to raise her baby brothers and sisters. What would life be like?

Inside Delia looked around at her home where she had spent her entire life. It consisted of three rooms, one a large kitchen come sitting room. Delia’s eyes took in the polished oak table and chairs, the fire burning in the stove the two chairs, one either side where her parents sat at night and talked. She loved this room and she was proud of it. It was always kept clean and it smelled good.

The two rooms off the kitchen were the bedrooms one where her parents and the youngest slept and the other where the rest of them slept. Except the oldest boy Tom who slept in the lean to off the kitchen. How would she bare it she thought in panic, how could she leave this place? Not like this. ‘Not like this mother please.’ She begged again but her mother was busy packing food into a cloth sack.

‘Go and get my grey coat Delia it is warmer than yours.’ She looked up from where she was now packing a small bag with a small blanket and a change of clothes.

Her father came in with a sheet of paper in his hands. ‘This is a map to show you the way’ he told her as he held it out for her to see. ‘Your aunt lives far to the east of here; you should follow the river until you come to a fork in the river. You must follow the one which veers to the right. You will come to a wooden gate beside the river on a track; follow the track to a small town. Skirt the town, let no one see you and pick up the trail on the other side… .’ his voice droned on but Delia’s head swam.

The piece of paper was thrust into her hands ‘do not show yourself until you come to a second town five days from here maybe six. Here’s some money,’ he thrust some coins into her hand ‘now you must take the cart from here to Hinesburg and find your aunt. Do you hear me girl?’

Suddenly Delia was pulled roughly into her father’s arms and hugged tightly, briefly and then her father was gone. She would never see him again. The tears rained down her cheeks.

Delia’s’ mother was putting her coat on her ‘no not your coat ma, you love that coat. Ma, do you think I’m bad ma? Do you? Oh please… .’

‘Come now child you must be brave and stay strong and god willing we will all be together again one day. Just keep praying for that. Now it’s time to go. And remember they may chase you, they might come after you understand? Be on the lookout and don’t let them catch you.’

Mortence led her daughter out of the house amid weeping and protests from the other children. Tom handed her his skinning knife and squeezed her hand as she took it. ‘I don’t believe any of it. Don’t let ’em catch you sister, but if they do don’t let ’em take you.’

Delia broke out in fresh sobs as she felt the cold air hit her, it would be dark, and freezing cold in the forest tonight. She was glad of the moon at least. She turned to her mother ‘why mum? Why are they doing this? Why do they call me a witch and what is wrong with witches anyway?’

Delia could feel something altogether foreign rising in the pit of her stomach. It went beyond anger; fury would better describe what she was feeling now. She had to push down hard on it.

‘Don’t talk that way daughter. Come you must hurry, your uncle Fred has gone back to town, it would be just like him to incite those damn villagers to come tonight after all. Run child, down to the river at the bottom of the field and follow the map your father gave you. Go with God and never forget who you are. Never forget who you are.’

Delia felt a push in her back and she stumbled forward, her legs were shaky. She lurched onward past the back yard and into the field. She loved the smell of the cows. She heard her mother sob and ask her to forgive her. The next thing she heard was the door closing behind her. Delia thought she would die from the pain in her chest.

Instead she walked on one foot in front of the other until she reached the river and there she stood looking into its muddy depths and wondered. She could just fall forward and all this would be over. She didn’t know how long she stood there for.

Finally, Delia straightened her shoulders and turned to walk along the river as she was told. After all, wasn’t that what Delia always did? As she was told. The pain she felt in her heart would be enough to turn the mind of the strongest man but Delia’s mind was on survival and she didn’t like her chances much.

Finding her way through the cold dark woods to her aunt’s house would be hard enough without an angry mob after her. She had seen what angry mobs could do. She slipped her hand into her pocket and felt the smooth handle of her brothers’ skinning knife which brought a stabbing to her heart and a thought to her head. She doubted she could kill herself with it.

And what of her Aunt? She knew nothing about her except that she had married a tailor and was quite well off. Apparently her husband made suits for gentlemen. Gentlemen huh! She knew what gentlemen were, grubby minded whores who were no better than… Delia stopped, I must stop this she chided herself but she could feel the anger in the pit of her belly again. And with the anger, the pain subsided. So Delia let herself get angry and stay angry as long as it took to survive the night.

She trudged on into the night, thoughts tumbling around in her head bad thoughts terrible thoughts of vengeance and retribution. Her retribution on them. ‘I’ll get even with those damn villagers if it takes me forever.’ She vowed silently and didn’t apologise for the language.

Delia didn’t know how far she’d gone when she saw the first hint of daylight in the eastern sky. ‘Thank God’ she cried. She’d been wondering about God during the cold night to. What sort of God would allow this to happen? But that sort of thinking got you no where she told herself. She might be the one on the run now she vowed, but that would be for the last time.

Delia considered, as it got lighter and warmer, resting for a while but then decided against it. She would keep going she decided and she would outrun these damned villagers. She walked all morning stopping only to drink from the cool waters of the river. Her only other stop at noon when she ate a small amount of the food after which she continued on along the river. The thought of revenge driving her on and the hope of returning to her family and life on the farm.

The countryside was beautiful but she was too sad to enjoy it. The winter was giving away to spring and the wildflowers were already showering the fields with a brilliant splash of colour, all the colours of a rainbow and then some she’d always thought. The birds sang as they worked furiously on their nests and everywhere small animals darted about showing no fear of Delia whatsoever.

As the sun was setting she came to a great oak tree with a trunk as big as some houses. She looked up to its high branches some which were big enough for two people to lie on side by side. Without another thought she started to climb, up to the first fork and on to the next. Delia was an excellent tree climber.

When she reached the second fork she was pleased to note that it was quite big enough for her to lie in comfortably without fear of falling. And it was high enough up in the leaves to be hidden from the ground. Delia covered herself with the small rug and then she slept. High up in the arms of an old oak tree and dreamed of a small house a large family and happier days.

There she slept until the sun’s rays brought with them the nightmare that her life had become. She sat and put her rug away and ate a little more food. She had a piece of bread with cheese and a boiled egg, the rest was repacked and she climbed to the ground.

Delia set off at a brisk pace, she worried about how long she had slept and whether or not the villagers pursued her. She followed the river for some hours until she felt week. She decided to stop for a spell in a thicket of bushes where her legs collapsed beneath her and she passed out.

When Delia next woke up she was burning hot and went straight to the river to drink. Her head throbbed and her throat was burning. But she knew she must go on. She stood up and lifted her pack to her shoulders and went on, one foot in front of the other. She stopped numerous times for a drink.

Just as the sun was about to set in the west Delia come to the fork in the river. She was glad she had to take the right fork as it meant she didn’t have to cross. So with a sigh of relief she went on all the while on the lookout for a good place to camp. Soon she came to a thicket of bushes and crawled into it. She wrapped her rug around her and was asleep in seconds.

She slept fitfully, her head hurt and her throat burned and she was feverish. She woke many times shivering and pulling her coverings tighter around her. She was troubled by terrible dreams. Dreams of witches flying about the sky watching the villagers chase her with torches. She tried to fly but she could not, she tried to hide but they found her. On and on went the tormenting dreams, beseeching the witches cursing the villagers.

When Delia opened her eyes to the morning light she breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks be to God’ she muttered as she made her way to the river to drink. She set off after a quick bight to eat, following the river; she vaguely remembered the fork in the river was behind her.

At last Delia came to the top of a rise, she’d left the river momentarily to avoid some very