What Shadows Come

As the wind howled through the trees and the rain came down in sheets, I crashed my way through the woods back to the cottage. Usually, I make my way to the old hollow on the full moon to gather herbs. My grandmother taught me as a child that the full moon was the best time to gather herbs from the hollow. Unfortunately, this time my journey was not fruitful. Halfway there, this storm started up. I had thought I had enough time. Apparently, I was wrong.

I could see the light through my small window in the distance and the dim glow of the old porch light. The rain pouring over my face, my hair and clothing soaked, I continued to slog up the hill to the door. A hooting owl in a nearby tree gave me a start. They don’t usually make noise in storms like this something must have spooked it. I shouldn't even be out here. I glance in the direction of the sound and see an unfamiliar shadow moving through the trees. The shadow almost appears human in its movements.

My heart thuds in my chest at the realization that the shadow is also moving towards my cottage. I pick up my pace, hoping to get there first, and lock the door tightly behind me. I am not sure what that shadow is, and I don’t know if I want to find out. It is, after all, the middle of the night during a storm. What could possibly be out here right now? My feet are slipping around in my water-logged shoes as I try to move as quickly as possible.

The only sounds I can ascertain are the howling wind, pouring rain, and the sound of my heart hammering in my chest. I am so close to my porch. The shadow has slipped from my sight, so I focus all of my attention on my door. With a giant leap, I heave my wet self onto my porch, and with one quick step, I am through my door. I slam it shut behind me. My hands automatically fly to the deadbolt and slam it into place. My back against the door, I glid my hand up the wall next to me and shut the inside light off. The only light left is on the porch and the dull glow of embers from the fire in the hearth.

I slide down the door silently. I press my ear up against the wood and listen for any sounds on the creaky old porch. Nothing. Only the sounds of the storm. Suddenly, a shadow casts itself across the dull porch light, blocking out any illumination it might create as the light goes out. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. The porch light was in full glow again like nothing had ever happened.

I sat there on the floor for quite some time, frozen. I don’t know how long I sat there. Blood pulsing in my ears, matching the thundering of the storm outside. Whatever was out there certainly wasn’t afraid of the storm. I couldn’t have been an animal. Animals have too much sense. Then what could it have been?

I pull myself up slowly and make my way to my small bathroom. I stip my clothes and toss them in a heap on the floor. A chill has set into my bones, so I turn on the hot water and step into the shower. Once I am warmed up enough, I step out and wrap a towel around my body and one around my hair. I crack the door open and peek out before stepping entirely out of the bathroom. I step across the small hallway and into the only bedroom in the cottage. I grab some clothes out of my dresser, start to dry off, and get dressed. I towel dry my long dark hair to keep it from soaking my t-shirt. My heart pangs when I get a glimpse of the photo on my nightstand. It is of my grandmother and me. She raised me here in the cottage. Both my parents had died when I was a baby. She taught me everything I know about magic and all about the women in our family before me.

She was supposed to teach me how to draw out my power before she disappeared last summer. Just vanished without a trace. The day before my 18th birthday. The day before, I should have drawn my abilities out.

I shook my head as if I could shake the memories from my mind. I stepped back out into the living space. The shadowed figure still on my mind, I stepped back over to the door, just to check to make sure the lock was still in place. After, I grabbed my wet clothes from the bathroom and hung them up by the fireplace. Tossing some logs on the embers, the fire roared back to life in moments. I walked over to the small kitchen area. Filling my kettle and placing it on the stove to make some tea, I grabbed my cup and waited. Once the whistle started, I filled my mug, turned off the stove, and proceeded to the rocking chair by the hearth. Sleep didn’t come easily to me anyway, and after earlier, I didn’t think it would come at all tonight. I settled into my rocking chair, draping my grandmother’s old quilt over my lap, and slowly sipped at my tea. This would be a long night.