The Sea Witch's Revenge (ON HOLD)

Chapter One

The deep toll of the bell rings out across the city. The haunting sound sends shivers down Victoria's spine. Its low echo hums in the air and before it can quieten, the bell rings once more.

Victoria gasps as a hand touches her shoulder. Mrs Tarlow's face has paled, and she gulps. A bead of sweat glistens on her forehead, making her greasy brown hair stick to her skin.

"Why don't you take the rest of the night off?" Mrs Tarlow asks, her voice trembling. Her cracked, thin lips pull into an awkward smile and her eyes dart around nervously. Victoria opens her mouth to answer but doesn't get a chance before Mrs Tarlow pushes her from the room.

"Trust me, girl, you don't want to be here tonight," she says, the usual, jolly tone gone from her voice.

"Why, what's happening?" Victoria asks and stops, turning around. "What was that bell for? I've never heard it before."

Mrs Tarlow wipes the back of her grease-stained sleeve on her forehead.

"Pirates, Vic," she says with a long sigh.

"I've dealt with pirates before," Victoria assures her.

"Not ones like these," she says and then gives Victoria a final push out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Victoria jumps as the thumping door makes the corridor shudder around her and dust falls from the ceiling.

Victoria looks at the closed, wonky wooden door with her mouth hanging open slightly. Beyond, she hears the scraping of the rickety tables and chairs as Mrs Tarlow starts rearranging the room. Victoria steps forward and wraps her hand around the cold metal doorknob.

"Go, Victoria!" Mrs Tarlow shouts from beyond.

Victoria sighs and lets go of the knob. She walks down the corridor, which is so narrow, her shoulders almost brush against the walls on either side of her. Beneath her feet, is a coarse and hole-ridden red carpet with a few strange coloured stains. She hops over a fresh, brown damp patch and bumps into the wall awkwardly.

"Shit," she mutters as her shoulder catches on an already peeling flap of wallpaper, proceeding to tear it off further. Victoria bites at her lip nervously as she inspects the hanging fold of gaudy yellow and black wallpaper. Then, she shrugs, knowing Mrs Tarlow and the other tenants won't notice.

Each step creaks loudly as she ascends the staircase. When she had first arrived here, the uneven and wonky steps would often trip her up. This in turn would have her reaching for the banisters. Victoria inspects the palm of her hand which is covered in little cuts from where the rotting wood of the bannister had left large splinters in her skin as she clung to it. A wince leaves her mouth as she pokes at the freshest cut, spotting a little dark spot of wood still embedded into her palm.

Victoria shrugs, knowing the splinter will work its way out on its own, and rubs her hands on her pinny. She reaches the top of the stairs. For a moment, she thinks about just going to her room at the end of the corridor and taking the night off as Mrs Tarlow suggested. She stares down the empty, narrow hallway, which is almost identical to the one below, contemplating what to do. Then, she laughs to herself.

Of course she isn't going to just go to her room.

With curiosity gnawing at her like an itch she can't scratch, Victoria rushes along the corridor to the next set of stairs and runs up them quickly. She passes all the other topsy-turvy floors until she gets to the top where another, ill-fitting door sits. Her heart races from her little run up all of the winding, wonky stairs and for a few moments, she stops to catch her breath.

Then, she pushes the door open and steps out onto the roof. Immediately, Victoria is hit with the smells of faeces, rotting fish, and salt. The vile stench makes her gag, and she puts her hand over her nose.