Abigail
by L. Greqoh
http://qlipothica.tripod.com
The wind blew her scarlet locks, tickling her face.
The girl sat alone under the willow tree, watching its tentacles sway back and forth, it's leaves rustling like an ocean.
The sun peeked through, poking holes through the branches and casting shadows that danced and swayed across the prickly grass underneath her dress.
She would often spend many summer days here, listening to the symphony of the finches, watching the swollen clouds course through the sky, contemplating their gigantic forms.
In the distance, always distant, other children were playing.
Their voices cutting hatefully into her world, always coming nearer. Soon they would be gathered around her with their wicked eyes and hurtful words. Her curls would be pulled, her soft dress torn until she once again had to leave this place that meant so much to her.
Abigail could hear their restlessness, and unease as they came closer.She looked down at the ground, tossing her hair over her face.
"Abigail!" one of the girls, called mockingly.
"Are you just going to sit there all day with that stupid doll?"
"Who else would want to play with her?" another added.
She shrugged. "Melissa, just leave me alone, please," she said softly.
It was Melissa and her friends.
"I think that is the ugliest doll in the whole world," one of the girls exclaimed.
"It's almost as ugly as you are!" Melissa added, as the group fell into an uproar of sadistic laughter.
"Yeah, it's as ugly as her name!" she jeered.
Abigail rose up, her wounded doll in her arms, and turned to leave. A hand pushed her, jolting her peaceful world.
"We're not done with you, Abigail..."
Before she could even do anything to stop it, her old rag doll was torn from her, and the girls took much mirth in tossing to one another it as she clumsily tried to rescue it from their hateful clutches.
Two of the girls grabbed Abigail by the arms as Melissa held the doll up in front of her.
"Now I'm going to make your doll dead, just like your weird mom!" Melissa said as she savagely pulled the dolls head of and began tearing the limbs from its helpless body.
Abigail sobbed.
The doll had been made for her by her mother shortly before she had gotten sick and left her.
The other girls roared with malicious approval, as they pulled Abigail's bowed and shaking body back and forth.
They began to sing hateful rhymes as they let her fall to the ground, her dismembered companion scattered around her.
Abigail laid there until the sun began to hemorrhage its fire into the horizon, and night rose up against the day, pushing it back, washing it away with rising shadows and the droning sounds of the locusts and crickets.
One by one the other girls made their way home. Abigail gathered up the remains of her doll and began to go home.
Her grandmother was waiting.
Her long white hair contrasted her all black clothing.
"I was worried about you, Aby," she said, "I had a feeling you ran into some trouble."
"Melissa and those girls...look what they did to Julie!" she said holding up the doll's tattered parts.
Her grandmother frowned.
"Why can't those girls just leave you alone?" Her grandmother asked. As she took the parts from her. "I'll just have to fix this first thing in the morning," she cheerfully added.
She had lived with hergrandmother since her mom passed away last summer.
"Why do they hate me? Why doesn't anyone like me?" Abigail asked, her eyes starting to tear.
"Abigail, it's not always easy to be different. Our family is not like theirs. Many people in this small town were scared of your mother," she answered. "People don't mind their own business. They like to talk about other people who are different."
Abigail fiddled with the silver pentagram pendant on her chest.
"But we never did anything to anyone," she said, "Mom helped a lot of people when they were sick, and no one else could. Why doesn't anyone remember that?"
"Everyone has their own path, and way. It's not for others to understand or approve. Just remember, I will always love you. Your mother would be very proud of what a nice young girl you are," her grandmother said as she kissed her on the head and tucked her in for the night.
Soon a small black form crept across the wooden floor, it's padded feet nearly silent, it's tail swaying like a snake. It jumped up on her chest, it's large copper penny like eyes peering down, as it meowed.
"Aleister...there you are..." Abigail said as she ran her hands down his silk like ebony body. "Where have you been, boy?"
Aleister was already rolling his head on her, marking her with his wet nose as he made bird like sounds and vibrated on her chest.
Soon the little girl was asleep.
That night Abigail dreamed of her mother.
The two of them where under the willow tree where they had spent so much time together when she was alive.
Her mother's beautiful red hair moved magically in the wind as she told Abigail of the old ways.
It was here that she had been taught about the elements, the planets and zodiac.
It was here that they had sang songs to the Goddess.
Abigail had often dreamed of her mother since her death.
In her own way she believed that her mother had never really left her, that they would still come and meet here, in her dreams whenever she really needed to talk to her.
"Abigail," she said as the moon beamed down upon them, "can you hear the song?"
"What song, Mother? " she asked.
"The song of creation, my love. The sounds of the all the things in the world passing and changing...becoming," her mother told her.
"What do you mean?" the little girl asked confused.
"Everything is a part of a whole, a balance. And we are a part of it too," her mother said as she held her daughter. "Everything has it's purpose and it's season, Aby. In time you will be a grown woman, with children of your own," replied her Mother with a smile as she ran her hands over Abigail's head.
"I am different, Mother, people are scared of me. No one one wants to be my friend. People say horrible things about us in the town. Adults won't even look at me. I don't have any friends."
"Aby, you will learn to accept yourself for what you are, and then it won't matter what other people think of you," her mother said.
"You are like a butterfly, soon you will discover who... and what you are....and then no one...will ever make you sad again."
"You promise?" she asked.
"Yes, my angel," her Mother answered as she rocked her gently.
Then the dream ended as it always did.
The following morning Abigail woke with the sun.
She began reading one of the old books her mother had in her collection. It was a very old black book, with many pictures and symbols.
Besides many other things it told all about how to make certain types of dolls.
Her grandmother came in.
"Aby, you know you must have some breakfast...What's this you are reading?" she said with a smile, looking down at the pages.
"I want to learn to make dolls just like you and mother! Can you teach me?" Abigail asked.
"I have just what you need, Aby. After breakfast I'll bring in some of my things that you will need." her grandmother answered.
"That's great!" Abigail said, her eyes lighting up.
Over the next few days Abigail and her grandmother spent much time together, as Abigail learned how to cut the material, stuff and sew the dolls...and the art of making the little dolls really... special.
And when Abigail returned to her special place, under the willow, she had in her basket three dolls, newly made.
One with blond hair, the other two brown. She put them on the grass in front of her, on her blanket.
Abigail noticed the wind had a slight chill to it.
Summer was comming to an end.
Soon the leaves would turn from emerald green to beautiful amber hues. The seasons where changing once again, part of the magickal balance of nature.
Soon the trees would be naked of their foliage, and the earth would sleep.
Aleister was at her side purring, looking up at her with his beautiful, deep eyes. She looked at his shiny black body, then she noticed that she herself was dressed in black today.
Her mother had always worn white.
Abigail was alot like her mother, but she was different too.
She realized that like summer and winter, her and her mother where both necessary parts of the "whole".
In the distance, the three girls where chasing one another, their hostile tones clashing with the delicate sounds of nature.
No doubt, soon they would once again come, to wound, to hurt her.
They where coming nearer.
But they stopped. Soon there was screaming...horrible desperate cries from the children's mouths as one of them fell to the ground.
Her limbs began twisting in sickening...unnatural directions. They made grotesque snapping noises before the horrified eyes of the other two girls.
Then another one fell.."Oh God.. help me..!" she pleaded as invisible claws tore open her pretty face and sent streams of blood down her chest.
Soon some adults had ran to see what the trouble was, only to find two of the three girls on the ground sobbing, Melissa staring at them in shock.
They looked at the top of the hill, and there, sitting beneath the old willow tree, dressed in the darkest black, was Abigail.
Her innocent hands ripping..and tearing at the dolls she had brought, her face a mask of utter satisfaction.
She picked up the last one, and grabbed its head tightly in her small hand, while her other held it's body firmly. She then made an announcement to the small minded people below her.
"Yes! I am my mother's daughter!" she yelled, "But I am very different."
Melissa stared in stark terror at the small doll, with the long blond hair, that Abigail held in her vengeful grasp.
Abigail tore the doll's head off.
