Page 1 of Whispers of the Elderoak

1

Ava Winslow was accustomed to being alone. In fact, she often reveled in it. The tranquility soothed her, allowed ample opportunity to just breathe; to be herself. But true loneliness had crept its way into her life, like she was singing a song but no one was there to listen.

And now she had no one at all.

Hands on her hips, she released a sigh as she stood in the foyer of her late grandfather’s farmhouse, surveying the few boxes she had just finished unloading. It had been nearly twenty years since she last saw him, and now she was the unexpected owner of his fifteen-acre flower farm.

She wandered down the hallway, fingers caressing the peeling plaster along the wall as she was flooded with memories. She had always known her mother had magic, had witnessed her speaking to animals and reviving plants with just a wave of her hand. Ava would laugh and beg her to do it again, just to see each brown crunchy leaf unfurl and return to its former verdancy.

The farm was where she had giggled as she chased her mother through the fields, catching her as she feigneddefeat. Where they had created daisy crowns and adorned each other’s heads, dubbing themselves queen and princess while they pretended her grandfather was an evil sorcerer bent on capturing them.

Ava passed the intricately carved wooden staircase and entered the living room. Tall picture windows were framed by ivory floral curtains that swayed in the breeze, looking over the property where a massive oak tree provided shade—the one she used to swing under while her mother sang songs in a strange, mystical language.

The farm had been a refuge for her and her mother. Where Ava could truly be herself, free from the sneers of other children on the playground; the snide remarks they made when she would rather speak to a bluebird on the fence than play with her peers. Where she didn’t have to worry about being cornered behind her school, cowering beneath hateful words. ‘Your mom’s a witch! Witch! Witch!’She’d cover her ears with her hands, trying to muffle their chants.

It made sense her family was viewed that way. Her home had been full of dried flowers and herbs and her mother and grandfather worshiped a goddess they called The Earth Mother. While Ava found her family’s faith endearing, she learned people didn’t like different; they feared what was deemed other. So, she shoved her beliefs into a box and never spoke of it outside of home.

She plopped down on the plush couch, opening the box sitting on the coffee table. As she flipped open the top, her eyes caught on a photo of her as a child with her mother. They were smiling in the kitchen, covered in flour as her mother taught her how to make chocolate chip cookies. The corners of her eyes welled with tears as she stared at the picture, a lump sitting tightly in her throat.

Slamming the box shut, she wiped off the wetness of her cheeks and rose, carrying it to a nearby coat closet in the hallway.Opening the door, she placed the box on the floor and shoved it as far back as possible, as if she could shove her sorrow inside with it and lock it away forever.

She drovealong the dirt road in her run-down SUV, classical music providing tranquility to her commute to town. Though the circumstances were devastating, she found herself glad to be back. She hadn’t known her grandfather well—he was a peculiar man with proclivities for secrets—but she remembered the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. How he’d gasp in amazement when Ava would sprint toward him, little arms full of flowers she had discovered on her self-proclaimed adventures.

One day, Ava and her mother had stopped visiting. She’d been around twelve years old when her mother sat her down over her favorite dinner of homemade ravioli and informed her that Grandpa was too sick, and their visits had started to distress him. It had remained just the two of them until the world stole her mother from her just before her thirtieth birthday. And now, almost three years later, it stole her grandfather too.

The road turned paved and curved through the hills as a sign appeared in the distance, welcoming her to the small town.

Piney Hollow. Population: 1,371

Seeing the sign after so many years rocked her more than she thought it would, reminding her of the trips to town she would take with her mother. After her death, she hadn’t really cared to meet new people or forge new friendships. Her mother had been the only person who truly understood her oddities. What hope could she have that someone else would? She had cried and raged, her grief so raw and intense she drowned in it and was only recently pulling herself back out.

Now that she was in a new town, perhaps she could push herself to make a friend or two. She could only hope.

Ava drove around, giving herself a brief tour to re-familiarize herself with the layout and passed by a quaint library, post office, and a couple of charming antique shops. At last, she found the only supermarket in town and pulled into a parking spot just as their lights turned off, closing for the night.

Abandoning her quest for groceries, she pulled back onto the main road and made a U-turn, parking in front of a small diner with a neon sign above the door that readMel’s.

She entered the diner, the smell of grease and coffee hovering in the air. Booths of worn maroon and chipped tables lined the densely decorated walls. Old wagon wheels, vintage photos and hub caps took up so much space, the color of the peeling paint was indiscernible. She sighed with relief at the low lighting, making it easier to hide among the shadows.

“Take a seat anywhere you like,” announced a middle-aged waitress, moving from table to table with her graying hair and navy polo.

Ava made her way to an empty booth in the back corner and took her seat, hunching down in the dim space. Though she had visited her grandfather’s farm as a child, she wasn’t sure if the locals remembered her or if they’d heard any rumors regarding her being the new proprietor. Shoulders slumping at the possibility of being judged yet again, she buried her face in the menu as she waited for the waitress.

As she finished scanning the offerings, she was interrupted by a gruff voice. “Hey there. You must be Ava. I’m Mel, the owner. What can I get ya?” said the man, flipping the page of a small note pad and pulling a pencil from behind his ear.

He was tall and wide, his presence taking up ample space. Looking to be in his early sixties, he donned the same polo as the waitress and a dirty black apron that had seen better days.

She returned the greeting with a smile. “Hi. It’s nice to meetyou. Um—how did you know my name?” She tucked a lock of her strawberry blonde waves behind her ear, then fiddled with the peeling plastic on the menu.

“It’s a small town,” he chuckled. “Everyone knows everyone. You’ll get used to it.” He ran his hand through his receding gray hair. “I promise we don’t bite.”

She laughed, unsure what to say. “Thanks. Um… I’ll have a mushroom swiss burger and fries. What beer do you have on tap?”

His booming laugh bounced off the walls. “Tap? Where do you think you are?” he joyfully teased. “We don’t have anything on tap here. We can give you a fancy glass though, so you feel like you’re back in the big city.”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll just have a Coors. Thanks.” Her cheeks warmed at her faux pas.

Mel wrote down her order and wandered off, chuckling to himself and mumbling something about ‘city folk.’

---