Although the storm is still raging above us, we’re somewhat sheltered beneath the forest canopy.
We walk in silence, Felix holding my hand firmly as we make our way through the dark. Kitty’s a few steps behind us, struggling over roots and leaf litter in her stilettos, which she refuses to take off. Her reasoning? She says she has plenty of Louboutins, but only one pair of feet.
I can barely see two feet in front of me, but somehow Felix seems to know exactly where he’s going. From time to time I look up at the dark leafy veil of leaves overhead. I can see heavy black clouds through the gaps, lit purple by streaks of brilliant lightning forking through the air.
Even as Kitty and I shriek when a loud peal of thunder roars above us like a giant’s war cry, there’s not so much as a flinch from Felix. Without missing a beat, he continues leading us forward through the woodland gloom, impervious
The dream begins in darkness.I’m floating on the tides of sleep, far beneath the ocean. I’ve been here a thousand years, waiting, waiting, waiting.Centuries pass.Out of the darkness, a tiny pinprick of light blossoms. One single point of luminosity glimmers defiantly against the void.The centre of all.As the sun pulls the orbiting planets, as the flame pulls the circling moth, I dance through the dark, held by that single grain of incandescence.As I wheel through the ages, the light spreads, sends out tendrils of silver flame – threads of the spell woven across time, the last enchantment of a dying girl.Is it that time again already?Something’s different.And because of that, I will not fail.I’ll finally be free.With every new life, I&rsq
You already know where to find me, Ash. You already know.I wake up gasping for air.Mia’s fleeting voice rings in my ears, her final words an echoing whisper that fades into silence.I can’t hear the wind or the rain anymore. The storm must have passed.Wan starlight shines through the window – it’s still dark outside, probably a few hours until sunrise.I don’t have much time.I slip out of bed, shivering as it dawns on me that I fell asleep wearing my rain-soaked silk dress. I’m in too much of a hurry to get changed into something warmer, so I pull the cream-colored chunky knit blanket off the end of the bed, and wrap it around myself before slipping on a pair of flats.As quietly as I can, I open my bedroom door, and creep stealthily down the passageway, sure that at any moment one of the old wooden
Three days have passed since the night of the storm.The boys and I have slipped back into our normal routine – songwriting and recording from early morning to late at night, suppers around the kitchen counter, Alastaire and Ben drinking their body weight in champagne while Felix and Elliot look on disapprovingly, Lyall nagging me (sweetly) to sing for him.No one seems to know about me sneaking out of the cabin three nights ago to visit Mia’s grave, or my too-close-for-comfort experience with Alastaire on the living room floor.Even the puzzling events earlier that evening – Kitty and Felix and I getting stuck in an infinite loop between my house and the forest, the empty, darkened streets, the mysterious way that the trees seemed to open up before us as we walked through the storm – all of that feels so distant and irrelevant that it might as well have been forgotten.And tha
I fall asleep with gran’s poetry book in my hand.As I drift off, the events of the past few days swirl through my mind like pictures made of smoke, wispy memories plucking at the edges of my consciousness.The hungry look in Cameron’s eyes as he cornered me in the back alley.Felix holding me in his arms in the pouring rain.The storm.Alastaire pulling me from the recording studio then almost kissing me in the study.Finding the book of poems once owned by my gran.The pain in my chest like something sharp and cold plunging into my heart.The same pain I’m feeling now, the searing ache pulling me up, up, out of my dreams, into the light….I bolt upright in bed, clutching my chest with both hands. My heart is racing, and I bl
“Perfect timing,” a voice like warm velvet growls from an open door across the hallway. “Come on in, Cupcake. Join us. I like your outfit, by the way.”I turn around slowly, imagining Alastaire sprawled out on the bedroom floor, lying nude on a polar bear rug with a red rose between his teeth, surrounded by a harem of naked girls he somehow smuggled into the cabin. That’s what the sultry ‘come hither’ tone of his voice brings to mind, anyway.The reality isn’t quite that, but it’s pretty close.Alastaire’s sitting on the edge of his bed. He’s wearing slouchy grey sweat pants, but he’s naked from the waist up, and I catch a glimpse of his chiseled chest and toned arms, a beautiful light tan despite him spending the past month in the eternally gloomy shade of the forest.He’s drying his head with a towel, and I feel a lump ris
Knock. Knock. Knock.An insistent tapping against my door wakes me up from a dreamless sleep. The last thing I remember before passing out was staring at the book on my bed, page 63 ripped out by some mystery intruder while I was in Alastaire’s room.How long did I sleep for? Is it morning yet, or is it still the middle of the night?The room is pitch black, so it must still be dark outside.I reach for the lamp on my bedside table, knocking over a mason jar filled with fairy bells and lily-of-the-valley in the process. I swear under my breath, wishing that just for once I could actually get a decent night’s sleep.I tap my hand around blindly on the bedside table, but the lamp switch has probably fallen down behind the bed.Damn.
I'm struggling through darkness.Far from all light, and love, and life.Death has swallowed me whole.Gasping for breath, I struggle against the black embrace of the ocean, bindings of frozen ebony velvet that hold and smother me, pulling me down, down, down.Far below, the bus falls through the shadows; far above, a maelstrom of shattered glass dances through the water.My body is tired.Thrashing wildly against the tide, I gasp for breath, and take in a lungful of burning saltwater.As I choke, their faces emerge out of the gloom.One by one, like drowned silvery moons, the pallor of the drowned.A girl with a shard of glass embedded into her eye socket; a boy with half his face missing. Ms. Blyth with a gaping hole in her throat. Mia
It’s midmorning by the time we arrive at the entrance to the Oswald West State Park.Unsurprisingly, there are a few other cars in the carpark – it’s a popular area after all, a suggested daytrip mentioned in just about every Oregon travel guide on account of the magnificent scenery and countless hiking trails.At least the beach probably won’t be crowded – Smuggler’s Cove is a popular surfing spot, but it’s too far from Portland for casual beachgoers. Alix mentioned it to me one time. He said Smuggler’s Cove has the best waves along the whole coast, and there’s meant to be some sort of waterfall cascading down into the ocean on one side of the beach.I always thought it sounded nice, but I never really imagined myself coming here to check it out. Not after everything that happened.The parking lot i