They spent the rest of the evening catching up, reminiscing about gathering acorns and leaves to make their ‘witches brew,’ and drinking lemonade on the porch in the hot summer sun. Ava told Eleanor about some of her adventures in the field with the animals she researched as a wildlife biologist and Eleanor filled her in on the quirky townsfolk and which ones checked out the smuttiest romance novels from the library.
“It’s always the old ladies or the stay-at-home moms,” laughed Eleanor.
“Why does that not surprise me?” Ava giggled as she sipped the last of her beer.
As they finished eating and said their goodbyes, they made sure to exchange numbers and Ava invited her over for dinner so they would have even more time to catch up. Back in her car, she smiled to herself as she made her way back home.
Maybe she wouldn’t be alone after all.
2
Briars ripped at her clothing and tore at her skin as she sprinted through the woods, barely noticing the sting against her flesh. She didn’t know where she was or where she was headed; only that she had to escape. She willed herself faster as something drew nearer behind her, lungs burning with every push of her legs. Breaking through the dense trees, she found herself in a clearing scattered with ruins.
A massive tree glowed in the distance, hardly visible through the woven forest. Its ancient and formidable power called to her, urging her toward its ethereal presence.
A creature emerged from the woods behind her. Searching, sniffing and rustling through the trees, it drew closer by the second. Backing away from the sounds, she tripped over a stone and fell backward, flailing. Her arms couldn’t find purchase as she was enveloped in total darkness. Her body tingled, pressure causing her ears to pop and as she continued to fall, she barely made out someone calling her name. “Ava!”
Ava woke with a start and sat up in bed, drenched in sweat. She was in her bedroom at her grandfather’s farm, not runningthrough the woods from a terrible unknown creature. Heart still racing, she rubbed her face and took several deep breaths, just as her mother had taught her to do when she was scared. In through her nose and out through her mouth.
No dream had ever felt so real. She could still feel that strange tug toward the glowing tree. As if she needed to reach it, touch it. It felt important for some reason; was it part of a memory, twisted with age? And what about that voice? It had been a man’s voice, and she couldn’t shake the urgency in the way he shouted.
Hands still quivering, she pushed the dream out of her mind and checked the time. 7:02 am. Too worked up to fall back asleep, she slipped on her ivory robe and fuzzy slippers, fighting the morning chill of the house, and made her way to the kitchen on a quest for caffeine from her otherwise empty pantry.
The kitchen was sizable, with a marble topped center island perfect for cooking—one of Ava’s favorite past times. The windows overlooked the shaded backyard, a sliver of morning sun peering through the trees brightening the space that was open to the dining and living room.
Her coffee finished brewing and as she poured herself a cup, she mentally reviewed today’s tasks. Grocery shopping was her top priority. Afterward, she would explore the land to re-familiarize herself with the layout of the farm.
She headed to the office, the stoneware mug warm in her hands, to look through her grandfather’s instructions before she journeyed into town. The room was dusty, with dark wall-to-wall oak bookshelves and an antique desk. Ava opened the window to allow in the morning breeze and bring fresh air to the stale room and turned to the desk. A binder labeledTo the Future Caretaker. Flower Farming 101had been placed on top.
She sat down and skimmed the pages divided into sections based on the time of year. Each section listed when to planteach flower, what time of year they bloomed, along with their watering and fertilizer requirements. There was even information on troubleshooting pests, diseases, and other unexpected hurdles. Luckily, it was fall so she would have months to learn before she needed to have things up and running again by spring.
Setting the binder aside, she turned her attention to the bookshelves. She skimmed the titles, overwhelmed by the sheer number of volumes.Peonies: From Seed to Harvest. Soil Health for Beginners. So, You Want to Start a Flower Farm?
Continuing her exploration, she opened the desk drawers and rummaged through their contents, not quite sure what she was searching for. She pushed the last drawer closed in bored defeat, but it caught on something and jammed halfway. Cursing, she re-opened it and tried to slam it harder. When that didn’t work, she yanked it out, rougher than intended and it crashed to the floor, pens and office supplies scattering.
“Shit.”
Ava scooped up the supplies and dumped them in the drawer when she paused. There was an imperfection in the wood. Inside the drawer cavity was a small compartment, the lip of a door barely visible.
Curiosity piqued, she felt around the edges, using a pen to pry the door open the rest of the way when her fingers weren’t enough. The wood popped out, revealing a small black journal. She ran her fingers along the cover, tracing the edges of the worn leather and remained on the floor, the worn rug soft beneath her as she crossed her legs.
The moment she lifted the cover everything stopped. The curtains stilled as the breeze outside ceased and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Goosebumps rose along her arms as she looked around for anything out of place, sea glass green eyes scanning the room. Everything appeared the same, but she could still feel it. As if the earth was urging her to payattention. After a moment, life resumed and the sensation was gone.
Heart still racing, she drew her attention back to the book and read the first page. The entry was dated more than thirty years ago. The day of her birth.
She survived the birth, thank The Mother. Ava is beautiful, the spitting image of her mom. They’re going to move to the city, but she promises to visit. I can’t wait.
She skimmed through the journal, yearning for more. For some kind of information. Most of the entries were short like the first. Brief snippets about random happenings in her grandfather’s life or their visits to the farm. She found another and began to read.
My daughter’s magic is waning. We’ve been in this realm too long, but we must do what we need to in order to protect Ava. Preserve her life until she is ready to go back.
She paused. Go back where? Ava thought back to the strange language her mother would sometimes sing in. They weren’t from here originally, she was almost sure of it. And though she knew her mother had magical abilities, she had never been told about other worlds. It sounded like something out of a story book.
Ava flipped through the pages. As if the answers would jump out and announce themselves. Another entry.
My girls must move to a new hiding place. I’ve made Sarah promise not to tell me where.
Her eyes flicked up to the date at the corner of the page. It was around the time they stopped visiting, when her mother had told her Grandpa was too sick. What were they hiding from? What did Ava need to be ready for? She flipped further and found an entry dated just a few days after her mother’s death.