by Jaci Miller
“This should be interesting,” Gabby claimed as she clamped on her snowshoes her head motioning toward an exasperated Kai. Her disgust at the snow that had fallen overnight and the steady stream of flakes continuing to fall heavily to the ground was already apparent.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She asked pointing at the dark, ominous clouds hanging thick over the forest. “What if we get lost or stuck?”
“Lost!” Dane huffed, shaking her head. “You have hiked to this tree so many times even you should be able to get there and back with your eyes closed. Anyway, the snow won’t be as thick or heavy in the forest, the canopy will hold out much of it. You will be fine Kai.”
“Come on, let’s get a move on,” Elyse called from where she stood at the entrance to the forest.
Stevie, grinning mischievously and unable to resist a chance to tease her friend, picked up a snowball and tossed it at Kai. “Suck it up Parker,” she yelled. Her aim was perfect, the snowball disintegrated against the back of Kai’s head causing everyone to howl with laughter. Kai groaned outwardly once more for emphasis, brushed off the clinging snow, and reluctantly trailed Elyse into the forest. Laughing the rest of the girls followed. The dogs, unaware of the teasing rituals of humans, romped ahead blissfully enjoying their canine shortcomings.
The girls hiked through the grey-lit forest for an hour before they reached the rock outcropping that indicated the opening to the clearing. Several years ago, on the inner side of the rock face, Marlee had written all their names in a circle; a symbol of infinity and never-ending friendship. As they passed the spot where the names were written, Dane noticed the ink had faded slightly and time had melded the names even closer together. Gently she brushed her fingertips across the writing as she passed.
The clearing was covered with a brilliant array of fallen leaves, their autumn colors forever captured by the cold, frozen in time. The snow could not penetrate the thick canopy, so the clearing was lost in another season. Near the back was the old, enormous, and unusually shaped tree; its thick trunk twisted and its tentacular branches spreading out in every direction. Some reached skyward, others bent awkwardly to the ground, thick limbs skimmed the surface crisscrossing with the large roots that exploded from the earth only to dive back underground a few feet away. Thick green moss carpeted the base of the twisted trunk and covered the protruding roots with a vibrant green mat. The moss covering the higher branches was long and thin dangling in clumps from the crooked limbs, swaying gently in the winter air.
The girls settled in around its base, unpacking the lunch they had brought and opening steaming thermoses of hot chocolate. The dogs circled the tree’s base sniffing and scratching at the ground and Dane followed them.
This tree was the one in her dream last night and she was curious as to why. She moved around the massive trunk until she reached the back where a long scar defaced the thick bark. It was about a foot in circumference, the edges of the bark frayed and forming a callus outline around the margins of the scar. The interior was smooth, layers of bark missing, exposing the fine-grained wood underneath.
She placed her palm at the center of the scar, curiosity dictating her movements. The bark began to warm under her touch igniting a slight tingle that vibrated from the trunks interior. Closing her eyes, she blocked out the sounds in the clearing, concentrating only on the feel of the bark under her hand.
Suddenly, she could hear voices, whispers of a thousand souls, but unlike those encircling the old flour mill, these imprints were from a different past. The whispers were inaudible, but she could feel how time stretched around the spectral voices. These were not ordinary people, their energy was different, it was stronger, more balanced somehow.
The whispers continued to increase in volume as the warmth from the tree intensified. Unexpectedly, a green light flashed through her mind and she heard a voice whisper—awaken.
Recoiling from the tree, she stood trying to catch her breath, the shock vibrating through her bones, as her heart pounded wildly in her chest.
“Dane, are you coming to eat?”
“Yes,” she answered, as Stevie came around the left side of the massive trunk.
“What are you doing back here?” She murmured, noting the dogs were sitting quietly, one on either side of Dane.
“Nothing, I was just reminiscing.” Forcing a smile, she grabbed Stevie by the arm dragging her back to join the others.
The hike back was uneventful, and the girls made it in record time thanks to Kai, who constantly remind everyone they had not brought provisions and would not last long if the darkening sky caught up to them. Shaking off the remaining snow from their jackets the girls headed into Stevie’s house just as dusk began to fall. After an hour in the hot tub and a hot meal, the girls had begged Stevie to perform some Tarot readings.
Dane was amused at how fixated her friends were on the readings and how excited they got with the information Stevie would reveal about their futures. She did not partake in any form of fortune telling performed by a mortal for fun. Witches prided themselves on their ability to gain insight into the future using tarot cards, tea leaves, stones, crystal balls, and other magically infused items but the ancient art of scrying was always practiced with the utmost respect for the hand of fate. Witches perfected their art of divination through years of practice, as well as superior knowledge of their own self, unlike mortals who interpreted the future—inaccurately—with irresponsible abandon. Stevie though had respect for the power divination wielded and for a mortal, she practiced the archaic art very well indeed, which was not surprising considering her heritage.
Stevie—short for Stefania—came from a long line of Romani people known as Roma or gypsies. Both her grandmother and mother are chovihanis, herbal healers and fortune tellers who emigrated from Europe shortly after Stevie was born, to live with her American father in Brighton Hill.
Dane adored Stevie’s grandmother or bunica as Stevie affectionately called her. She was full of Roma gusto; a robust and domineering woman who spoke her mind and had great influence over Stevie’s upbringing. Stevie learned everything she knows about the Romani ways from her grandmother, an extremely superstitious and spiritual individual, grounded in old-world tradition.
Stevie embraced the carefree attitude of the gypsy way, her family culture, and its beliefs integrating it into her modern life. She also maintained a strong metaphysical belief system and for that reason alone, Dane gracefully declined every time Stevie inquired if she wanted a tarot reading. She had no desire to be outed as a witch by a deck of cards.
A few hours later, Dane was finishing up the dinner dishes.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to do yours?” She heard Stevie call in her direction.
She shook her head, a smirk spreading across her face. “I think you know the answer to that Stevie,” she replied, looking at her over her shoulder.
Stevie laughed and nodded, immediately packing up her tarot cards.
It was almost ten and everyone was tired. As the girls were packing to head home, Stevie went into the kitchen and pulled Dane aside making sure she was out of earshot of the others before speaking.
“Something is going on with Gabby,” she whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“She called me a couple of days ago when I was in New York City, it was late, really late.”
“What did she want?”
Stevie leaned in closer. “She wanted to know if I was ok.”
“Why?”
“Apparently, she had a dream. She was really upset because the dream was about us and it was very similar, to the vision she experienced when she first met us.”
She stared at Stevie remembering when they had found Gabby, battered and disoriented stumbling around on County Road 5, thirteen years ago. “The shadow?”
“Yes, only this time we were in the forest, and the shadow was coming in from all sides, surrounding us.”
“Did she hear the same voice whispering?”
“Yes, and the same message, save them.”
She looked over at Gabby, who was laughing at something Marlee had said. “She’s probably just dreaming about the old memory, right?”
“That’s what I thought until she admitted she has been having strange dreams for about a week now.”
“Strange? In what way,” she asked her brow furrowing at Stevie.
“Just images really, vivid images. Places, landscapes, nothing she recognized, although she did say after she woke she was left with a feeling of familiarity like she should know something about them.”
“Do you think she’s remembering?”
Stevie hesitated. “Her past?”
She nodded.
“Maybe,” Stevie said, quickly ending the conversation as she saw Gabby moving toward them.
Chapter 6
Gabby yawned as she put the key in the lock and opened the front door of her store. She didn’t get much sleep last night, and she felt like she might be coming down with something.
Banging the snow from her boots she entered the store and turned on the lights. City workers were still fighting to plow the streets and sidewalks clear of the twenty-six inches the storm had dropped over the past two days. It had eventually let up overnight and now only scattered snow showers were in the forecast. The downtown was quiet. She didn’t expect many customers today so decided it would be a good time to start her year-end inventory.
As she passed the large gilt-framed mirror hanging behind the front counter, she caught sight of herself, stopping a moment to gaze at her reflection, piercing blue eyes staring back. Her platinum blond shoulder-length bob was razor cut, hanging in jagged pieces around her pale face. The black streak that ran from her part down the front left side was an anomaly, a fluke in her genes but now highlighted the dark circles forming under her eyes. Dismissing the reflection, she settled onto the stool behind the front counter, sipped her coffee and opened the inventory ledger. There were no sounds filtering in from the street outside as the storm suffocated the entire city, leaving behind an eerie quiet. It was a quiet she knew well.
She could smell the coldness in the air as its chill embedded itself in her skin. The earth was damp beneath her fingertips as she lay there quietly, waiting, listening. Slowly, she opened her eyes squinting against the light evading the trees, their uppermost leaves swaying lazily back and forth.
She could see the blue-grey of the sky as it peeked through the canopy. Snow falling languidly toward her, fluttering slightly as the breeze caught its flakes. The eerie quiet of this place shrouded her in its emptiness as she closed her eyes and waited—a single tear sliding silently down her cheek to the cold earth below.
The pain started with her toes and worked its way up her legs, into her lower back, across her abdomen and up through her shoulders, ending with an explosion inside her head. Letting out a violent scream, she convulsed, as the pain tormented her entire body with vicious spasms. She screamed for what seemed like an eternity until the pain subsided to a dull ache and her voice and body went numb.
Hesitantly, she opened her eyes, squinting against the dull daylight. Tears blurred her vision as she turned her head painfully to the side. The forest floor was a beautiful rich brown, delicately covered in places with a blanket of newly fallen snow. Pine needles and leaves were piled up at the trunks of the trees from where they had fallen.
She moved tentatively, gradually managing to get her broken body into a sitting position without passing out. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she forced her body to move. After a few minutes, she pulled herself onto her knees and painfully got to her feet, her breathing labored, as she surveyed the area. She was surrounded by tall trees, which seemed to stretch in each direction indefinitely. She had no sense of direction, no idea where to go. Her mind was blank, no memory of where she was, how she got here—or who she was!
Steadying herself, she picked a direction and started walking, agonizing pain surging through her body with each step. After what seemed like an eternity she heard the faint hum of engines, cars on a road somewhere up ahead. She slowly made her way to the edge of the forest where the dense trees opened into a small clearing. Beyond she could make out the pale grey of an asphalt road.
With what little strength she had left, she forced her bruised and battered body to the edge of the road. She heard the roar of an engine and saw the gleam of a bumper as the car got closer, turning into the curve in the road up ahead. Waiting, she willed herself not to submit to the unconsciousness desperately fighting to take hold. As the car finished rounding the corner she painfully threw herself into its path, facing the oncoming vehicle.
The car raced towards her until suddenly, there was a squeal of tires on the pavement as the brakes locked and the car screeched to a halt just feet from where she stood. She collapsed onto the asphalt in a bleeding heap, all her energy spent. Through the dark fog that had begun to overtake her consciousness, she heard car doors slamming, footsteps running toward her, and voices speaking to each other in panicked tones.
“Oh, shit I almost hit her, where the hell did she come from?”
“I don’t know but we need to get her to a hospital, she looks to be in pretty bad shape.”
She could hear their voices, but the warmth of the pavement was comforting. All she wanted to do was sleep.
“Stay with me,” she heard a voice say, “help is on the way.”
Her eyes fluttered open fighting to find the source of the voice. As her vision cleared she saw them, two young women, looking anxiously down at her. One was kneeling beside her the other was pacing frantically behind her, speaking to someone on a cell phone.
The pain wracking her body began to pull her once again into unconsciousness, but this time she welcomed it. Through the oncoming haze, she saw something surrounding the girls—a dark, smoky shadow slithering unnoticed around them. Suddenly, an eerie silence fell over the area and the shadow began to close in, its wisps reaching out to touch them. She wanted to call out, to warn them, but she was unable, her body numb and unresponsive, the haze pulling her down into darkness. As she faded into unconsciousness, she heard a whisper flutter through her mind, save them.
She stood and walked to the front window. The wind had picked up, and the snow was beginning to drift, small gusts swirling through the empty streets. That memory was one Gabby would never forget, for it was her first and had been haunting her for thirteen years.
She had no memory prior to that day. Her past was a mystery, summed up in an inch-thick file marked ‘Jane Doe’ and stuffed in the cold case archives of the Brighton Hill Police Department. If it hadn’t been for Stevie and Dane finding her, she may not even be alive. She often thought about that fateful day and how all her friends, strangers back then, had helped her.
In the beginning, it had been terrifying, but they were always there. Supporting her, giving encouragement, even being strong for her when she felt weak and lost. As the years passed, she gained confidence in her new identity. She had embraced her new life as Gabby Winters, eventually developing and identifying with this new person. But her missing past was always with her and she wondered if the dreams she had been having lately could be lost memories resurfacing.
The dreams had started about a week after Stevie had left for New York City on assignment. At first, they were just brief images of places and landscapes, a view of somewhere she did not recognize. There was nothing extraordinary about these landscapes, just unknown places, which was why she wondered if maybe she was dreaming about her lost past. Then the dreams started to change, the landscapes more imaginary, the imagery leaving her with a feeling of recognition every time she woke up. It was unsettling, but nothing
compared to the feeling of fear she felt after the last dream. The image of Stevie and Dane walking through a forest and suddenly being surrounded by a menacing dark, shadowy fog had caused her such anxiety she had called Stevie immediately to see if she was ok. There was something about the dream. How it reminded her of the shadow she had seen surrounding them thirteen years ago. It had left her with a sinking sensation that something bad was going to happen. A feeling she hadn’t yet been able to shake.
Chapter 7
The red glow in the dark room amplified the black and white images hanging on a clothesline at the back of the room. She used the tongs to move the white paper, floating aimlessly in the developer tray on the bench, until an image began to appear. Dipping the new print into the stop bath and the fixer trays she hung it with the others, standing back and studying the haunting photos of the old flour mill.
It had been a while since Dane had used film as she mostly shot in digital these days. But with the entire campaign based on the historic essence of Brighton Hill, she wanted the old mill’s story to be captured perfectly. She knew the grain and limited tone of film would enhance the haunting emptiness that emanated from the mill in a way the crisp clearness of digital couldn’t.
She stood back and studied the images. There was something different about the one she had just developed. The image seemed to be blurred, a small section of the mill distorted. Had her lens been dirty? A smudge that had shown up on the image.
Moving in closer and picking up her magnifying glass, she focused in on the distorted part of the image. It was not a smudge but rather an outline of something, something that seemed to be standing right in front of the mill, something not visible to the naked eye. She felt a chill run down her spine as she continued to inspect the image, moving the magnifying glass back and forth across the photo.
