by B. J. Smash
Unexpectedly, she was then down on the ballroom floor at a buffet table. Upon this table were the most beautifully displayed desserts, with everything from a fifteen-foot-tall chocolate fountain, to little tarts sitting on multi-tiered silver trays. These tarts, mind you, would make even Aunt Cora and Aunt Clover jealous.
I couldn't see any of the people’s faces; they were all a blur. She was standing next to a man who was back to eating away. Something resembling a small dragon (about the size of a puppy) would fly the biggest strawberries I'd ever seen into the chocolate fountain, and then it would bring them back to Zinnia, setting them on a golden plate.
She was laughing and flirting with this man with the blurred-out face. Then the dream faded out and darkened until she was in a forest, a gloomy forest, full of fog and damp, dark trees. She held onto the hem of her beautiful red gown so she could run, and she was running…running from something. I couldn't see exactly what, but it was after her, and there was no escape. Reaching the edge of the forest, she tried to run out, but at every turn she would run into a thick, foggy substance that couldn't be penetrated; she reminded me of a fly in a spider’s web. It was impossible to move through. Impenetrable. And she cried and cried out something, but I couldn't hear the words! It was as if she were ensconced in a soundproof room. I could see her mouth move but hear no words. Off in the distance, I heard a wolf bay.
***
I was abruptly awakened by little tinkling bell sounds. I bolted upright, gasping for air and holding onto my throat. It had grown rather cold in my room for a summer night, but sweat poured from my face. Forcing myself back to reality, I realized the bell’s sounds were coming from my cell phone. The problem with that was my cell phone didn't work at Gran's house. It wouldn't receive any signals, and the only thing I ever used it for was an alarm clock.
I grabbed for it on my bed stand, knocking it off to the floor, never hearing it land. As I leaned over the bed to pick it up, my breath caught in my throat. Lying on the floor was something I never wanted to see. There was a young woman with curly brown hair, wild eyes, and a crazy smile looking back at me. Ian's sister.
I felt the air grow colder, raising the hairs on my arms.
She held onto the phone and mouthed something to me, something like “Silly,” and then she was gone. The phone had stopped ringing. I lay back on my bed, not daring to move a muscle. Fear clenched my very heart and made my stomach tight.
I made myself let the air I'd sucked in, back out, and then I breathed as quietly as possible. Silence filled the room, and the only thing I could see was a tree limb's shadow on my wall.
My heart began to beat normally, and I closed my eyes just in time for the phone to ring again. “Oh God,” I said aloud. Again, I slowly leaned over my bed, with the covers pulled up to my chin. There lay my cell phone by itself. All I could picture was putting my hand down there to get the phone, just to have Ian's sister grab it and haul me under the bed.
I finally forced myself to snatch up the phone before it woke Gran, and I quickly lay back on the bed. Answering, I said, “Hello.”
“Ivy?” said a familiar voice, but I couldn't place it.
“Yes?” I said. “Who is this?”
“It's Ian. You just called me.”
“Ian? I didn't call you. You called me,” I said.
“No, you called me and said, ‘Silvie,’” Ian said.
“Silvie?” I asked.
“Well, apparently you are quite the prankster. Silvie is my sister's name. Oh by the way, did you get the rolling pin?”
“Yes and no.” I paused. “Ian…I think I was dreaming. I just saw Sylvie under my bed.” I expected him to laugh.
He sighed. “Did you, now?”
“How is that possible?” I asked.
“Ivy…my sister is dead.”
My whole body froze with terror.
“What? The one that sleeps under the willow tree? I just saw her the other day, in the garden.”
“My sister. Is. Dead. Hence, she sleeps under the willow tree. She is the ward that I was trying to tell you about. She guards the McCallister gate. She's dead. She's a ghost.”
“Wh—what are you talking about?”
“She's the ward. Ahh, never mind. You're in shock. Just get over here. She must be trying to warn you about something.”
“Okay,” was all I could muster to say.
“I’ve sent my driver to come for you. Meet him at the end of your driveway.”
“But Gran—”
He interrupted me. “Knows that we have a few problems that need fixing. I got you into this mess, and I'll be the one to get you out.” He hung up the phone.
I changed my clothes and put my hair up into a ponytail, all the while glancing around my room. I did not want to see Silvie again. Panic ran through my whole body, causing me to feel faint. I felt like I was in crazy world. What had happened to normalcy? I had nothing normal left in my life. All of these things were happening to me, and all I could say was, “Why me?”
I had always thought myself to be pretty brave and daring. I loved a good horror movie, but I didn't appreciate living in one. I had always liked going to haunted houses with my friends on Halloween. I liked to read a good scary book now and then, but my life had turned into a horror story. I just wanted a pizza at a beach somewhere in the sun, far away from the creepy, mind-numbing mess my life had become.
Before I left, I checked on my sister. The dream I had just had seemed so real. Walking to her bed, I gave her a good push to wake her up. My hand sunk into something. “Zinnia?” I whacked her again, hitting something soft. They were pillows. My sister had left, probably a long time ago.
Slipping out of my house with a flashlight, I walked to the end of the drive where Ian's driver awaited me. I got in the big black car that must have cost a zillion dollars, and the driver brought me up to the McCallister house.
Ian awaited me at the door. “Okay, so you say you saw my sister?”
“I believe so.”
“We've no time to waste. Let's go.”
In no time, we were at the back gate of the garden. The only light was the moon and a single lit lamppost hidden behind globs of plants that I hadn't noticed before. There she stood, in the same yellow dress that I had seen her in on two prior occasions. The wind ruffled her hair just as it ruffled mine. If she were a ghost, how was that possible?
“Sister,” Sylvie mouthed silently.
“Her sister is in the woods now?” Ian asked.
Sylvie nodded her head.
“Doesn't she talk? Your ghost sister…doesn't she talk?” I asked.
“No. She never talks. Only laughs.” He waved his hand at her.
Sylvie giggled.
“How does she know Zinnia is in trouble?” I asked.
“She roams the garden, but she has a friend that roams the woods—a certain friend.” The way Ian said friend sounded as though he didn't approve.
“How will I find Zinnia?” I asked the ghost Sylvie.
She pointed at me.
“She is saying your sister will find you,” Ian said.
“I must go then,” I said.
“Be careful. You must be very careful,” Ian called after me.
Not wasting another moment, I took off running until I came upon the yew tree. Fireflies were everywhere tonight. I recalled how my sister and I used to catch them in glass jars, poking holes in the lid for air.
I walked past the big tree and all of its décor, faintly hearing music. I followed the music, but I couldn't figure out which way it came from. One minute I thought it was to the left of me, the next to the right. After a while I could tell that it was straight ahead. I had lost all sense of direction with the many turns I had taken.
Finally, ahead I saw a white wooden bridge, and I went for it. Stepping upon the bridge, it creaked loudly, as if warning me to turn back now, while I still had the chance. I didn't heed its warning, and I stepped a little louder just to spite it. As I was a
bout to disembark from the bridge, I felt a wave of wooziness sweep over me, and then felt as if I were walking through a marshmallow. The air seemed thick, and I gasped. Suddenly I was off the bridge, and everything was back to normal. Or as normal as things could be, under the circumstances.
What the heck was that all about? As I caught my breath, it was then that I noticed there were noises off in the distance. They were not forest noises but people noises and party noises, and laughter and music, with people clapping hands. Fiddles were being played, and whoever played them surely knew what they were doing.
A thick cloud stood between me and the party. Walking on, it seemed as though it took me several minutes to get through the clingy fog, although I could have sworn I walked but a dozen feet.
After a few moments, seconds, or minutes, I finally stepped through the fog. To my left and right, the forest was dark, imposing, and threatening, but dead straight ahead, it appeared illuminated, shining so brightly that it could have almost been daylight. I looked behind me, only to see the fog still lurking there.
Something in the air smelled of spice. It was a woodsy, sweet smell, like patchouli, but even better. I followed my nose and the light, and the music was getting louder. An uproar of laughter sounded throughout the area, making me feel lighter on my feet. I could hear someone talking now, as I glided closer. I eagerly closed in on the light, and hid behind a mighty big oak tree. My back to the tree, I took in a deep breath of the lingering patchouli smell. Getting up my nerve, I crouched down low and peered around the oak.
I can tell you now that nothing I had ever experienced or had seen before could have prepared me for this moment. I felt as though I was suspended in time and space, gazing upon something that man was not supposed to witness.
At this point and time, my life changed forever. I will try and explain to the best of my ability what was taking place, although the words to describe it elude me.
Down below, in a little valley, lit by some sort of illuminating bonfire and what resembled thousands of white fairy tree lights hanging in trees, nestled into groups of many colored orchids, a group of beings danced to the most glorious melody that I had ever heard. My soul soared and awakened in me feelings I'd never knew existed. It was a fast song, and yet at the same time, it was a slow song. Fiddle players, backed up by some sort of bagpipers, encompassed the circle of beings. I would see the musicians, and then I wouldn't, and then I'd see them again in a different location. It was maddening but mystifying, and it seemed as though gratification of the senses was close but not close enough. I could hear, but I only wanted to hear the next note, and the next. More and more!
The people—or beings, rather—were superlative beings, extraordinarily beautiful. I had never seen anyone more perfect in my entire life. Humans just didn't have it in them to be this perfect. I even felt a lone tear escape my eye.
The women had long, shiny, and gorgeous locks of hair; some had their hair up with jewels. Some of the men had long hair, but was bound back into a ponytail. The shapes of their features and bone structure were indescribable.
The finery of their clothing was indescribable. The best I can do is say the gowns of the women were exquisite, and ornamental. Jewels that I'd never seen before were sewn in or attached somehow into the bodices and along the hemlines, and some on the skirts themselves. The colors couldn't be named for some of the gowns, for I'd never seen such bright shades of purples, blues, reds, and even cream colors that stung the eye. What I would give for a gown such as that! And I didn’t even care for dresses. I asked myself, Who are these people? I knew the answer had to be none other than the Regal Folk themselves. The Fae, or the Seelie aka the Good Folk, that Ian had spoken of. And yet there was something foreboding about them as well. Perhaps they were the Unseelie?
The men standing in the background, clapping their hands to the music, were wearing the finest coats of indescribable quality, brocaded with fancy colors unknown to me. The women were opposite them, clapping their hands in rhythm. Between them was a couple dancing melodiously in time to the music. At the moment their backs were to me, but as the two swung around, arms interlocked, I got a much better look. And one of them was Zinnia. I couldn't believe my eyes. She didn't look gaunt or scrawny now; she was magnificent. In an ivory-colored gown with what I was sure were real diamonds, sparkling with the light, she danced in circles around her partner.
The thousands of white fairy tree lights hung down around the trees. However, there were no cords. Not a single one. I couldn't tell how they were powered, or how they hung so nicely.
I watched as they danced on, and I saw how beautifully Zinnia's brown hair was piled up high on her head, adorned with jewels. The young man she danced with had to be one of the handsomest young men I'd ever seen. His coat was a dark color with purple embroidery. As they danced around, arms interlocked, they appeared to be floating above the ground.
I don't know how much time had passed as I sat there, crouched behind the tree, transfixed, when abruptly the music stopped.
No way. They can't stop the music!
Dead silence.
I heard myself whimper, and my bottom lip literally pouted forth.
People were exchanging some words, and then there was laughter. It appeared to be some sort of ceremony. Zinnia and this young man were staring into each other’s eyes. He held her like he was about to swoop her down in a waltz. Everyone stood silent and watched. What were they doing?
Finally, another man in a black robe walked eloquently over to them. His hair was black as the night sky, but his beard was graying, and he appeared to be of great importance. Silver dust followed in his wake. He held his hands above their heads, sprinkling what looked like silver and gold dust down over them, and he said something that I couldn't understand. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a white knife—bone?—and carved something into an apple. It was some symbol that I couldn't make out. It had taken him a few moments to do this, while the others looked on patiently.
The man then handed the apple to Zinnia. She took a bite from it and handed it to the young man who, in turn, took a bite. The young man handed the apple to the older man, who then tossed it into the bonfire, sending multicolored sparks throughout the party, almost like fireworks. The man said words that held no meaning to me, but I feared that to Zinnia, they held all the meaning in the world.
Everyone clapped their hands and hooted and hollered, and the music, the glorious, wonderful music, began once again.
They all began dancing in a circle, linking hands round and round in one giant circle.
Then it occurred to me. No way. Oh, this couldn't possibly be. I think what I'd just witnessed…was a wedding. My sister’s wedding. It was then that I tried to yell out my protest, but it was too late. In my stupor, I had just watched them get married. I stared ahead in disbelief, all the while enjoying the revelry and music.
What would I do now? I pulled myself away, sitting with my back against the tree. It somehow comforted me.
I had just lost my sister. Perhaps this could somehow be fixed? But something told me that once it was done, it was done. Then again, it's not like she had permission. She was only eighteen years old. Or did she even need permission? After all, who was going to tell the Fae what they could and couldn't do? Oh boy.
How would I explain this to Gran? To Aunt Cora and Aunt Clover? How would I explain it to Father if I ever got him back?
I sat there staring up into the tree canopy. I wanted to cry, but the music wouldn't let me; my foot started to tap instead. The music had started to well up inside me, pulling me in. It reverberated throughout my body and mind, lifting my spirits. Despite how I felt, I smiled. As I began to peer around the tree, the strangest thing happened. I felt compelled to dance, but I couldn't yet. I was floating. Up. Up. Up. Head over heels, I was doing circles in the air. I felt as though I were swimming, and the air was my water. Then I stopped midair, hovering, unable to move forward or backward, an
d so I did the only thing that I could do and looked down. They stood in a circle, all looking up at me. Zinnia waved, but I couldn't move my arm to wave back.
Slowly, I was brought down into the circle. I could move my limbs again. Two Fae, one on either side of me, grabbed my hand, and once again, the dancing began. I wasn't moving my legs, though; I had no control over them. They were moving on their own accord. We were dancing faster and faster, spinning in circles, dancing the night away. Zinnia was opposite me in the big circle, smiling, laughing, and holding her husband’s hand. Once, he moved her hand in front of his face and kissed it. They looked at one another, and for a moment, I could actually see the chemistry between them, in pinkish hues. There was some sort of pull, some sort of energy.
Even when she looked away, he would still be watching her, all the while still dancing.
Zinnia looked at me and then smiled. I beamed a smile back at her. There was no time for despair and regret in this circle of dance. It was all about happiness—at least for now. Or was it the music that had me fooled?
As the night went on, we danced to the majestic music, my feet doing fancy footwork that I never dreamed possible. It reminded me of the Irish dancers, and if I thought they were amazing—which I did—then I wish they could see me now. I was flying right through the moves!
The man to my right gave me a generous smile; his handsome features were glowing in the light. The lady to the left of me wore a cream-colored gown with ruby-colored embroidery and rubies around the bodice and hemline. The dress, even though ground length, never seemed to quite hit the ground. I had to look out of curiosity, all the while my feet hip-hopping. The hem had not a speck of dirt upon it. The lady as well as the other ladies danced with such exquisiteness, and their movements were unparalleled.
I didn't even try to stop and I never got tired, but it seemed all too soon that it came to an end. After a while, I was swept back up into the night sky and floating high above the treetops right toward the bridge. They all waved at me. I had lost sight of Zinnia and her husband; in fact, I don't recall when I saw them last.
