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Celia’s Bewitching Halloween Tale
I lived in
a large two-story house with my parents, younger sister, and grandmother. It
was a cold, winter evening, nothing special or out of the ordinary. My family
dined together, then my sister and I cleaned up while our parents and
grandmother drank tea.
We joined
them at the dining table to do our homework, but my grandmother said she was
tired and went upstairs to bed. My parents followed shortly after that, but my
father paused on the landing.
“Maeve,
it’s going to be a cold night. Fetch us some coal, please.”
I abandoned
my homework, grabbed the empty coal bucket from the kitchen, and went down into
the cellar. I filled my bucket and returned to the stairs. I had one foot on
the first step when the temperature in the cellar, already cold, dropped
dramatically. Chills ran down my back. Behind me, someone moaned.
But how
could that be? I was alone...
Terror
rooted me to the spot. The keening grew louder. I dropped my bucket and covered
my ears. A cold wind bumped against my back. I stumbled forward as the
shrieking wind rushed over me and up the stairs.
But how
could that be? The cellar had no windows...
Above me,
the cellar door slammed shut. The sound broke me from my stupor. I screamed and
ran up the stairs and out of the cellar, through the kitchen and dining room,
and up the stairs to my room. My parents and sister found me under my bed,
shaking like a puppy lost in a snowstorm.
“What is
it? What’s wrong?” They asked me, while pulling me from my hiding place.
“I heard
the Banshee wail.”
We stared
at each other in silence, all of us reaching the same conclusion moments later.
We hurried
to my grandmother’s room.
She was dead.
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Dealan scowled, cursing under his breath as he strode toward the house. The female must be daft. Her ruckus could wake the dead, and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment. This living, breathing human was a sufficient problem without adding temperamental ghosts to the mix.
Near the back porch, his keen Fae hearing picked up the rattling of doors, the clicking of window locks, and the scraping of curtains tugged along metal rods. Room by room illumination ceased. Darkness wouldn’t protect her from his kind, however, should they wish her ill. He harrumphed. Which they didn’t.
At the foot of the deck stairs he paused, reminding himself why he’d agreed to watch over this skittish lass in the first place. His best friend Angus was a right pushy bastard, and sadly, Dealan had never been able to refuse his friend’s damn requests. Factor in kindhearted Eva O’Reilly, his chum’s mate and longtime friend of the flower fairies, and it was nigh impossible to deny either of them any little thing.
Or, one noisy, possibly unhinged, woman-sized being named Melanie Blackstone.
“She’s a funny one, isn’t she, Warrior?” Rosina’s airy voice chimed from behind him.
Giggling ensued when he merely grunted in reply, then the leader of the flower fairies appeared before him in a swirl of pink sparkles. “Let’s go inside to see what else she does.”
“I’ll enter,” he corrected her. “Alone.”
“Aw, you’re no fun,” Rosina pouted, crossing her slender arms and cocking a hip.
“And always much too serious,” Valeria and Poppy tittered in unison, fluttering past his head to join their leader. Their wings whirred, showering sparks over his form, their magic brightening the evening gloom with pulsating pink and orange light. The pleasing sight did little to improve his mood.
“She saw us, Warrior, did you see?” Poppy squeaked.
Valeria’s head bobbled quick. “And took our picture, too.” She struck a pose and preened.
“Aye, I noticed, Little Ones.” The human seemed to see him, too, right before she shrieked like a Banshee then fell on her arse inside the sunporch. Strange, since they were cloaked in their natural invisibility and usually needed to lower the mantle to reveal themselves to those who couldn’t See. And according to Eva, her friend didn’t possess the Sight. Although, Eva had mentioned her friend wrote fantastical stories, and creative minds were typically open minds, so—
Valeria and Poppy darted to the door.
“Stay out here,” he commanded, as they peered into the solarium.
“Ohhhh, she left pizza,” Valeria squealed. “Let’s cover it in sugar and eat it.”
“And put honey in the wine! Drink it down,” added Poppy.
Rosina laughed. “Good plan.”
Dealan grimaced at the notion. “Negative. You are to remain outside.”
“Boooooooo,” they sang in unison, all three glaring his way.
A shrill scream erupted from the house. Shite. Dealan summoned his sword out of habit and leaped forward, landing before the fairies and waving them away from the screened back door.
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1 comment:
Hi Roxanne,
Thanks for hosting Melanie, Dealan, and the flower fairies on your blog. :-)
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