The contents of the following story may contain depictions of adult situations, nudity, foul language, drugs/alcohol, and/or religious references.
Proceed at your own risk.
NOTE:
Incomplete Novelettes will remain Incomplete due to the material source getting lost and\or forgotten.
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Maggie Mayweather
by Geist von P.A., Mar 9, 2014, 3:17:07 PM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / Fantasy / Short Stories
Magick and Minnows
Maggie's hand skimmed a few centimeters above the water's surface. She made three counterclockwise rotations, before centering her hand without spread fingers It was twilight, the time between time.
Early morning dew lingered in the air and the lake was still. Covered by a thin blanket of velvet, orange and yellow colored mist as the sun crest the horizon.
It was clear and shallow here where Maggie knelt beside the water's edge. She concentrated; her hand trembled a bit at first. When she felt ready, she whispered into the wind one- two syllable word, as she pressed her hand towards the water. The surface tension bowed beneath her hand forming a bowl shape indent.
To the water this came as quite a shock. As if a big rock, thrown by a playful child, on a hot summer's day. The only difference is that there was no big flume, ripples or sound that would indicate such a thing happen.
The world around Maggie was peaceful and serene. The early morning bird songs, the gentle whistle, as the wind wisp through the cattails and even a white-tailed doe and her fawn that had come to drink paid Maggie no mind.
Maggie held this shape in the water using sheer will, as a school of curious minnows surrounded this new shape. Slowly, bringing her left hand parallel with her right, Maggie concentrated on transferring her power from one hand to the other.
Maggie waited a bit, making sure her spell maintained its effect, before removing her dominant hand. The bowl began to ripple, and Maggie froze for a moment.
The water steadied, Maggie's right hand reaching into her dress pocket. At this moment the water began to ripple vigorously. She panicked, as her brain shot back and forth, telling her to remain calm. It was too late. All at once, the bowl exploded upwards in a fountain spray, making a sound as if someone fired a shotgun into a barrel of water. The minnows that were nearby, became airborne flying in all directions. The sweet song of birds was replaced by frantic flapping and screeches of horror.
Maggie opened her eyes. She was a statuesque, as the water lapped furiously in front of her on the bank. She was drenched from head to toe as her long black hair clung to her head, neck and shoulders. Streams ran down her face and fed a small pool that had formed between her breasts. She felt something wiggle with a slight slap. Looking down revealed a minnow trying to escape from the very same pool. Maggie plucked him by the tail from her cleavage and held the small creature at eye level. "We'll have none of that," Maggie spoke softly with a smile. She cupped her hands around the minnow, giving him a calming kiss, before returning him to the lake.
Maggie pulled her wet skirt out from under her, stood upright turning around and starting off towards the cottage.
A Strange Occurrence
Following the stream was always the shortest way back home. Since it flowed next to the cottage, through the woods and fed into the lake.
Maggie walked through the heavy, yet low lying fog that often accompanied this particular trail. Her usual white and blue dress still dripping from the morning's event.
She had grown a bit since her sixteenth birthday, although the dress was form fitting, there was a considerable gap between the ground and the length of her dress.
Maggie had bund her hair in the back, leaving only her bangs loose. The thick tendrils accentuating her slender face.
Reaching into her pocket, she threw a few breadcrumbs onto the water's surface. A frenzy of hungry fish darted towards the water's disturbance hoping for their chance at a free meal.
The weather was becoming warm and muggy, but here by the stream it was brisk and chilly. Birds were high in the trees chirping communicatively to one another. Chipmunks and squirrels were scurrying playfully, chasing each other through branches and bramble.
Maggie had removed her black single strap slip-on shoes, bare feet exposed she walked on leaving slight traces of wet footprints as the remaining water ran down her legs.
Maggie usually enjoyed her morning strolls through the woods. However, she was wet and somewhat annoyed at this moment, just wanting to get home to change into something dry and enjoy some hot tea, before starting her chores.
It was at this moment that Maggie froze in position, something wasn't right.
She might not have noticed, but something pulled her back to reality and out of deep thought. She slowly looked around and focusing on what she could not hear. There were no birds singing, no sounds of the stream flowing over rocks. There was complete silence.
Maggie kept very still as she witnessed a figure manifest twenty-five yards in front of her on the trail. The figure wore a greyish white cloak and was already at full stride coming towards her.
Maggie spoke, but the words didn't resonate upon leaving her lips. There was an eerie feeling watching this figure as it seemed to float through the mist. Even though Maggie wasn't completely afraid, she wasn't sure how to react, as her mind raced, her grandmother never spoke of such powerful magic.
The cloaked figure slowed as it made its final approach towards Maggie.
"Be weary. The woods of your home, you are not alone. Ickacheli." These words came through to Maggie's ears gentler than a wisp on the wind.
Maggie tried desperately to make out a face within the hood since they were eye level, but the cloak concealed all features. The cloaked figure's pace quickened, just as fast as it had manifested it faded and was scattered in the wind.
The sounds of nature rushing in and echoing around the hollow. Maggie's head was flooded with the sounds of chirps, the rushing water, leafs rustling and echoing from one side of the hollow to the next.
Dizziness enveloped her mind, but quickly passed.
Kneeling over the bank, Maggie, took a few sips of water from her cupped hand and composed herself once more.
Lamentation
The sun was above the tree line and beaming upon the grassy knoll to which, the cottage so quaintly sits.
Drying herbs hung from the porch, while the hollow wooden wind chimes, Maggie and her grandmother made, clanked softly in the breeze. A wonderful variety of wildflowers lined the porch, continuing a nice path down to the well.
Maggie's goats and sheep were grazing in their small southwest pasture.
A few woodland rabbits were making their way through the gardens, stopping to nibble on the assortment of vegetables and herbs that grew along the east side of the cottage.
The morning dew across the surrounding open field was lifting, as if sleeping spirits rising from their slumber.
Maggie was panting by the time she reached the edge of the tree line that opened onto the knoll. She leaned against a tree for a few seconds, panting and trying to catch her breath.
She could not tell if her clothes were wet from this morning's mishap or sweating, nor did she care.
She would be safely inside her cozy cottage with her grandmother in just a few more seconds.
Maggie pushed off the tree rushing across the north-east section of the lush green lawn towards the porch.
The door was open and the smell of breakfast emanating from within billowed towards Maggie's senses, instantly giving her a secure calm feeling.
All of this was removed the moment she entered the cottage saw her grandmother suspended in mid-air by a cloaked figure, who had its grip on her grandmother's throat.
Maggie lunged towards the intruder.
The effect was less than satisfying, as the intruder vanished the instant Maggie pounced.
The last of her energy was spent as Maggie hit the wall with her shoulder, slumping to the floor.
Witnessing her grandmother fall, like a rag doll to the floor, Maggie cried out.
But there was no response.
Then she caught sight of the intruder, as it ominously stood within the doorway.
Maggie sat up against the wall panting furiously for air, staring into the deep dark recess of the hood.
The comparison was remarkable to the figure she had come across in the woods.
The only difference being, this one carried a long twisting staff that curled at the top.
There was a sound, like blades of metal sliding against one another, and the dark emptiness of the hood changed to a reflective silvery disc, and then the sound of the staff against the wooden floor, followed by footsteps.
Maggie's breathing slowed a bit, her shoulder becoming a nice cherry red color.
Her gaze intensified, as the intruder leaned into a parallel position with Maggie's face.
All Maggie could see was her own angered reflection from within the hood, as she felt herself being drawn in by her own reflection.
Her facial expression fading as darkness began to consume everything but the intruder's hood.
A blinding brightness of spectral colors overtook Maggie's sight. She covered both eyes in her palms, as she began screaming in pain. But the lights were not coming from any external source but from within her own mind.
Maggie awoke to the familiar warmth of her fur lined bed, but she did not move or make a sound she instead listened for any indication of danger. The sounds of the crackling fire and her grandmother setting the table confirmed everything was as it should be.
Maggie thought about what had occurred, thinking that it might have all been a bad dream.
But when she felt the bandage over her eyes and smelt the herbs within, she was convinced it wasn't a dream.
As Maggie slowly rolled over, her shoulder once again reminded her of the events that had conspired and let out a low groan.
"Grandmother?" Maggie managed through another groan of pain, as she sank back into the bed.
"Shhhh. Rest my child. You've been asleep all day," Miryam, her grandmother, responded as she sat down on the bed beside Maggie.
"You have a few bruised ribs along with your shoulder from that little dive into the wall you did," Miryam stated, with an encouraging chuckle.
"The effects of their spell, when one is lucky to escape it, causes temporary sensitivity to light. That is why I had to wrap your eyes. I threw the herbs in there to reduce any swelling and to draw out the spell's residual effects. You should be right as rain soon," said Miryam.
"What spell?" questioned Maggie.
"Let's remove your bandage, so you can see your grandmother's smiling face again." said Miryam, avoiding Maggie's question.
"I outened the candles and the fire are low enough, so it shouldn't be bothersome," said Miryam, as she unraveled the bandage.
Maggie's eyes fluttered a bit, as they tried to adjust to the glow of the dying embers emanating from the fireplace.
"How do they feel?" asked Miryam.
"Fine, they don't seem to hurt or be effected by the light," replied Maggie.
"Really, no effects at all?" said Miryam, with a bit of a puzzled look.
"I see you clear as a cloudless sky, grandmother," exclaimed Maggie.
Miryam reached into her pocket pulling out a small black stone and waved her hand over it.
The stone illuminated a soft yellow glow. Taking the stone between her thumb and forefinger, Miryam held it up.
"It doesn't bother you to look into this?" questioned Miryam.
Maggie shook her head.
Miryam blew on the stone and dropped it back into her pocket before standing.
"Rest, you need to heal before you can start your chores again," Miryam said, with a chuckle. Miryam always had a dry sense of humor.
"Grandmother?" said Maggie.
"Yes, my child?" responded Miryam, as she made her way to the fireplace.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you," Maggie began, as Miryam began dishing a bowl of soup out of the small pot hanging from a chain above the embers.
"I was at the lake practicing the spell you showed me last week.
While there, one of those cloaked figures showed up and told me we were being watched."
Miryam turned to Maggie with a deep gaze in her eyes.
"Who said we were being watched?" said Miryam with a whispery rasp in her voice.
"The other cloaked figure," Maggie replied.
Miryam began towards Maggie when the bowl of soup crashed to the floor, losing her balance and catching herself on the kitchen table.
"Grandmother, are you alright?" Maggie shouted, as she sprang forward, only to be shot back by her own pain.
"I'm fine child," said Miryam, as she stood over the table supporting herself with both hands.
"What's wrong?" asked Maggie.
"I'm just tired, I guess," Miryam said.
Maggie managed to stand and make her way to her grandmother.
"Sit down," said Maggie, as she pulled out a chair helping her grandmother into it.
"I'm fine. Get yourself something to eat and then tell me about what happened while you were out," said Miryam.
Maggie took a bowl from the table and dished herself some potato and herb soup from the pot, wincing in pain as she sat.
Maggie explained the events of that morning, as her grandmother listened tentatively.
"So, that explains why you were wet," laughed Miryam.
"But... The way you describe your encounter is different from the one here in the cottage. Yes, they can vanish and reappear elsewhere, as you found out the hard way," smiled Miryam in an attempt at sarcasm.
"But the one in the woods, the one that gave you the warning... that is unknown by them to alert who they intend to capture or kill," explained Miryam.
"Were there any features about this person, as to any indication, to who they might have been?" asked Miryam.
"None that I can recollect. It was almost as if I was dreaming when it happened," said Maggie.
Miryam paused, clasped her hands together on the table and stared into the fire. Maggie knew that look. It was one her grandmother always made when she was deep in concentrating.
"I was hoping I would never have to tell you about them. But it seems, the time has come for you to know the truth," Said Miryam.
The fire glistened and danced within Miryam's eyes.
"Many years ago..." Miryam began, "your mother and I were faced with these creatures. Mimics we called them."
Miryam paused, facing Maggie, with a grief look upon her face and collapsed upon the table. Maggie panicked, "Grandmother!", ignoring her own pain Maggie flew to her grandmother's side. Maggie noticed Miryam's frantic breathing and the foam resting on her lips, as she managed to sit her upright.
Maggie placed one hand over her grandmother's chest and the other upon her head, closed her eyes and concentrated.
Maggie flashed through millions of her grandmother's memories, before being halted by hues of vibrant, semi-transparent, blues and purples.
"Grandmother!" she shouted with concern.
"I haven't much time left and neither do you, if you stay here. I prepared a pack for you. It's under my bed. Take it and go north. Find Wetsle," Miryam's voice reverberated throughout Maggie.
"I will always love you, my child, in this life and the next," pushing Maggie away with her tendril arms.
There was a flash, as if a vacuum in time and space had been breached. A million tiny, oily, black molecules were drawn together and collected, creating a shape that was becoming all too familiar.
Maggie released her hands, as she watched over her grandmother's final moments. Miryam's breathing shallowed to a few short gasps before releasing a final exhale.
Maggie dropped to her knees, as the emotions hit harder than waves against a cliff in a hurricane. Maggie screamed aloud as streams of tears flowed down her cheeks. Her body tensing with the rage of such anger, that it might have moved mountains at will. Maggie lifted herself to her feet, slammed open the front door, marched off the porch and into the open field arching her chest and head to the sky. "If you want me, come and get me. I'm right here," Maggie shouted into the night sky, before collapsing to the ground weeping with sorrow.
In the distance, a lonely coyote howled a long sigh in return.
It was a bitter end to an already jinxed day.
Maggie was in her tight leather corset with underlaying long sleeve blouse, leather pants and thigh high lace up boots. Her hair still in the braid her grandmother had done up the day before.
It wasn't proper attire for the occasion, but it was the only dark clothing she owned.
"Thank you for knowing how to cheer me up when I was down. Being patience with me, through the times I was stubborn. Thank you for being my guardian over that which frightened me. And my mentor for that which I need to know to survive. But most of all, thank you for being a loving parent." Maggie paused as she wiped away her tears.
"I still feel you with me, just as I always have and so I shall carry on that which you have asked of me, grandmother." Maggie cleared her throat and composed herself a little before reciting the final prayer, "From mother earth we were birthed. By Father Time we have learned. By shelter of the elder trees, we have lived. By fruitful nature we have been given sustainable life. To dust we must return. For which the wheel turns. And so, we bid farewell as our body burns."
Maggie remembered learning the prayer from her grandmother when she was eight years old, after a coyote had gotten a hold of one of her favorite lambs.
With clouds in her eyes Maggie lit the wood pile to which her grandmother's body rest upon.
The sun was reaching the peak of the trees by the time Maggie returned to the cottage. As she entered, she lifted her head and looked around the room. The last of the embers in the fireplace died out long ago and were now a pile of fine grey ash. The broken bowl laid shattered upon the floor. There was a darkness looming about the house, an eerie quiet hung in the air.
Maggie wanted to crawl back into bed and consume herself in sorrow.
She headed towards her alcove on the western side of the cottage, paused, looked at her bed and thought to herself, "No, that is the easy, weak, way. Remember what your grandmother has taught you. Never fear the unknown but attempt to understand it instead. There is a divine plan laid before each of us. We are given the choice to follow it or not." Trying to build her self-confidence. "Follow it I must, if I am to understand what in Hades' name is going on," said Maggie in an assertive tone to herself.
Turning on her heel, Maggie, headed towards the other end of the cottage.
There, just where her grandmother said it would be, Maggie pulled the pack out from under the bed.
She expected it to be, her grandmother's normal rugged travel pack for when they would make their trips to meet with the coven, but it was something different entirely.
Maggie inspected the pack; it was of dark brown color with a main pouch and long single strap. The material was unlike anything Maggie had ever seen. Opening the flap revealed the necessary supplies for a 2-day trek. She closed the flap then sliding the strap over her head, centered the pouch at the small of her back. The sling-pack was feather-light and conformed to Maggie's movements, almost as if it were a part of her body. Maggie caught sight of the walking stick in its nested position beside her grandmother's bed. "You will always be by my side," Maggie said, as she smiled to herself.
Maggie went to the closet and grabbed her goat skin bladder and headed towards the front door. As Maggie reached the door she paused, turned within to take one final look at the life she knew.
"Where one door closes, another door opens," said Maggie as she gently shut the door and headed to the well.
The bucket made an echoed splash, as it crashed into the water below. As Maggie pulled on the rope, bringing the bucket up from its dark depths she heard something on the wind. She paused and listened for a moment before bringing the bucket to the stone ledge of the well's mouth. Opening the goat skin bladder, she began filling it to capacity. Just as she corked the bladder, Maggie heard it again. The wind was making it hard to hear, the chimes on the porch rustled and clanged. She had just finished tying the bladder next to the hip pouch on her belt. When she looked up and saw the cloaked figure standing at the edge of the woods, beckoning her. The goats and sheep, in their enclosed field, began to panic, fleeing in unison towards the farthest side. Maggie spun around and peered over the pasture into the opposing tree line. She couldn't see anything, but then she heard the very faint rustling and snapping of branches as the wind died.
Maggie almost fell backwards, realizing her body was trying to escape before she did. Twisting herself around, she ran at full speed into the woods, where the cloaked figure had been standing.
Maggie had no idea where she was going, she was running out of fear. The northwest trail forked in various places, and she had made random decisions on which path to take. It wasn't long before Maggie needed to catch her breath and her bearings, but the entire time all she kept thinking about was that she was being chased. Finally, Maggie spotted something familiar. A rock formation, that her and her grandmother called the potato patch. Thusly named because the group of giants, smooth, rounded boulders that covered the hillside resembled potatoes. Maggie used to come here to play among the rocks and search for salamanders and snakes when she was a young girl. She never thought she would have to use any of the small caves and alcoves for hiding, but that is just what she did. Leaping from one boulder to another, making her way to one of the larger caves up the hill and then vaulting to the last rock, Maggie turned her body parallel to the gap and squeezed herself inside.
Maggie peered out through the entrance and listened for a long time. There was bird songs and the wind whistling through the rocks and trees. The gap offered little visibility in any direction, other than directly forward, offering a good view of the trail below. When Maggie was satisfied that she wasn't followed, she leaned her back to one side of the cave wall and slumped to the ground. The small amount of light that made its way through the cracks of the cave offered very little visibility. It was almost pitch black and had a damp earthy smell. Maggie felt for her water bladder, uncorked it and brought it to her lips, taking a big gulp before recapped it and returned it to her side. Maggie's hand then made its way into her hip pouch and pulled out a stone, cupped it in her palm with closed fingers and waved her other hand over her fist. Loosening her index finger producing a beam of light, which Maggie used to shine on the opposite wall. She looked around the cave, a few beetles and spiders tried to hide in the crevices of the rock, or scurry away as the light passed over them. Maggie closed her index finger, put her fist to her mouth and blew through her fingers before placing the stone into the pouch. She sighed in disgust, at the terms that had brought her to such a situation. Taking off the pack, she braced it beneath her head as she drifted off to sleep.
It took Maggie most of the night to stack the wood for her grandmother's cremation. "Thank the Goddess," Maggie thought, that she didn't have to split the wood as well. She had hooked her strongest goat up to a small cart to help her carry the load to a spot close to their favorite tree. It bloomed every year during the winter months, usually before a big blizzard. Maggie and her grandmother enjoyed watching the deep purple flowers unfurl in a beautiful bouquet against the white snow.
Maggie was awakened by the screech of a low flying hawk overhead. She sat up and peered out the opening, listening for any indication of danger. It was mid-afternoon. Maggie could tell by the shadows. Taking a stone from her side pouch and illuminating it, she sat it on a small rock shelf above her head and proceeded to wipe the floor clear of debris. After drawing lines in the dirt floor, using pebbles to mark where she could rest and hide, Maggie laid the walking stick next to the topographical map and measured the distance. After doing a few calculations in her head, she whispered to herself; "A Day at best, but what about the area beyond?"
Maggie relinquished the stone of its glow and pocketed it as she thought about what to do next.
Daylight might be too much of a risk, Maggie thought.
---
The moon light always gave the wilderness a creepy look as the black and white colors mingled with dark blue hues, creating unrecognizable shadows that seemed to silently dance among the trees. Aside from her paranoia about the possibility of being stalked by creatures of the night, Maggie was extra cautious about the very high probability that the Mimics were tracking her. On several occasions she took a path leading nowhere, then carefully backtracked within her own footsteps. A few times she tiptoed around or walking up and down a section deliberately breaking branches to lead them in the wrong direction. Maggie stopped to rest when she reached the falls, it was off the beaten path away from danger and no one knew about it. Maggie happened upon the falls a few years ago, by following one of the many streams that cut through the landscape. She had brought Miryam here on more than one occasion as well. Miryam had told her that it was her secret place, a place where she could come and feel safe. Maggie wondered about those words now as she chewed her food. "Did she somehow foresee...?" Maggie's thought trailed off as her eyes caught a glowing blue orb. She watched as it bounced, ducked, disappeared and reappeared, making its way through the brush towards the shallow pool where Maggie was sitting. As it reached the bank, the light dimmed, Maggie could finally make out the definite shape of a fox. Cautiously the fox looked around before kneeling to drink from the water's edge. Maggie sat very still in amazement at the sight of this animal. The blue fox caught sight of Maggie's rippled reflection within the water, stopped drinking, raised its head and glared into her eyes from across the shallow pool. Maggie was caught in a majestic gaze as the two of them studied each other. After determining that neither was a threat to the other, Maggie held out her hand with an offering of food. The fox entered the water, making his way towards her, sniffing the air vigorously in an attempt at determining if what she offered was edible.
In the center of the pool, the fox stopped, looked at Maggie with what seemed like a confirming cuteness that said, 'I trust you, but you must come to me.'
Maggie picked up on this and ever so carefully slipped her feet down the rock and into the water, so as not to frighten him. They never took their eyes off one another, as Maggie made her way towards the blue fox. Kneeling with an outstretched open palm, the fox took the bit of food gingerly. Maggie smiled a big smile as the fox chewed. She couldn't believe how beautiful this creature was or how trusting. As Maggie slowly moved her hand toward the fox's back, there was a brilliant flash of white light. A few seconds later, after Maggie's eyes adjusted, once again to the darkness, she saw that the fox had disappeared.
Maggie paused and concentrated on her surroundings. A flash that bright would have been like a flare to anyone who was searching for her. Maggie heard nothing but an owl hoot, then the familiar shrill sound of a rabbit, who had been caught within the clutches of the carnivorous nocturnal animal. Convinced that nothing was coming for her next, Maggie stood slowly and returned to the rock where she was eating. The small parcel of food lay open on the rock where she had left it, but her pack was nowhere in sight. Maggie searched around the sides of the big rock, thinking it might have fallen, but it wasn't there. Maggie turned around and looking out into the darkened forest, which revealed no answers as to how her pack had suddenly disappeared.
The moon was passing directly over the crest of the waterfall. When Maggie looked up, there standing on the eve of the ledge was the blue fox. Maggie had a disgusted scowl upon her face, as she pointed her finger at him, "You tricked me," Maggie said angerly. The fox simply turned away and disappeared from view.
Maggie picked up a stone and threw it into the waterfall. There were a few plinks, as the stone ricocheted off the rocks, before making a plunk into the water. Maggie sat down where she had been eating, with a feeling of discouragement, she finished the small bit of food that remained. Afterwards, Maggie picked up the cloth napkin, shook the crumbs off, folded it and placed it into her pocket. With a sigh, she leaned back against the damp rock wall, crossed her arms and closed her eyes.
Sounds of the morning filled the air, not just bird songs, but the creaking and moving of tree limbs reaching to greet the rising sun. The orange streams of light through the canopy cast a blurry haze upon the lifting fog. A gentle breeze rustled through leaves, whistled through hollow logs and crept into Maggie's lungs. She coughed as the sweet dense air tickled her throat, which only added to her dazed and confused state, as she opened her eyes. Her back was stiff from being in the same position so long, her ribs and shoulder were still sore.
Maggie kicked a rock from the mound where she was sitting next to the falls, it fell into the water with a hardy 'Thump' sound. That is when she noticed something different, it was fairly light given the size and hadn't taken her any effort to move. The second thing she noticed, was that when it hit the water, it turned from a dark brownish green to a light sandy color, the same color as the bank where the water pooled.
Maggie reached down and picked it up, it was soft and wet, as she turned it over, she realized it was her pack. Setting the pack on her lap, she watched as if it absorbed the dark red-ish-brown of her pants. The fox wasn't a trickster as she had thought. With her spirit once again uplifted, Maggie made a quick check of the contents, everything was dry. She shouldered the pack and set forth once again.
The Mimics were an erratic breed, or perhaps some kind of mysticism she didn't yet understand. Then again, they could be waiting for an opportune time, farther ahead to ambush her. All of this went through Maggie's mind as she began making her way through the thicket. The main trail ended not far after the falls, forcing her to take the small game trails. Perhaps they only wanted her grandmother, but why would they have returned the next day? Maybe they weren't returning but making sure the lone Mimic completed its task. There had been no sign of them after her escape yesterday, but Maggie knew it best to remain on guard. After a short and strenuous time of ducking and weaving herself through the jagged spines of the thorny bushes and closely knitted saplings, Maggie found herself reaching the edge of the forest.
An open field with waist high grasses, yellow and purple flowers filled every square foot of this sun-drenched oasis.
Maggie stood upright, straining to see across the brightly lit landscape.
Mirage of heat vapors elevated from the ground, before swirling with the cooler winds above.
Several beautifully colored butterflies fluttered and soared on these tiny updrafts, as they made their way from flower to flower.
Squinting a bit, Maggie placed her hands around her eyes, shielding them from the sun. It wasn't until she had turned eastwards, that she heard what sounded like the trotting of horses.
It had been so quiet, that Maggie didn't understand how she could not have heard them sooner.
As she squinted to see who or what was coming, she felt a slight sting upon her neck, then seeing the sun whiz past her vision as she collapsed to the soft grassy ground below.
----
Maggie awoke to the sounds of rushing water, the starless night sky above, and the moon emanating its eerie glow across the land.
Fireflies winked in and out of sight as the crickets began to chirp.
The night life of the wilderness coming to life, like that of an orchestra tuning their instruments.
Maggie, confused and hazy, realizing where she was, just as she witnessed a thick fog beginning to pour over the fall's edge covering the surrounding area within seconds.
Maggie was completely blinded by the density of the fog and began to feel a little panicky.
All sound ceased right before a giant crack of lightning pounded in her ears as a brilliant flash lit up the night sky.
Maggie ran in an unknown direction, she didn't care what direction, as long as it was away from the lightning and out of the fog.
But the fog was everywhere, the lightning seemed to follow her, always nipping at her heels.
It wasn't long until she came upon a clearing, free of the fog, and the lightning seemed to have vanished as well.
It was very dark, as if there was no moon in the sky, but when Maggie looked up, there it was still brightly illuminating its silvery sheen.
In the distance, a little way a way she saw a dimly lit window.
Running towards the light gave her quite a shock, she stopped and froze just in front of the porch's landing.
It was the cottage, her grandmother's cottage, the house she too grew up in.
Looking behind her she couldn't see anything; it was an empty void of blackness.
Maggie faced the cottage and took a step onto the landing, without making a sound, the door opened and released a slither of the fire's light from within as if it were peeking out, or inviting her in.
Maggie's face turned pale with fright, yet nothing could keep her from entering, as she slowly opened the door.
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ADENDUM:
Maggie Mayweather was intended to be a novella based around dark-magic with a nod towards Greek Mythology and the intent of having the reader question their own character by the end.
Maggie Mayweather
by Geist von P.A., Mar 9, 2014, 3:17:07 PM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / Fantasy / Short Stories
Magick and Minnows
Maggie's hand skimmed a few centimeters above the water's surface. She made three counterclockwise rotations, before centering her hand without spread fingers It was twilight, the time between time.
Early morning dew lingered in the air and the lake was still. Covered by a thin blanket of velvet, orange and yellow colored mist as the sun crest the horizon.
It was clear and shallow here where Maggie knelt beside the water's edge. She concentrated; her hand trembled a bit at first. When she felt ready, she whispered into the wind one- two syllable word, as she pressed her hand towards the water. The surface tension bowed beneath her hand forming a bowl shape indent.
To the water this came as quite a shock. As if a big rock, thrown by a playful child, on a hot summer's day. The only difference is that there was no big flume, ripples or sound that would indicate such a thing happen.
The world around Maggie was peaceful and serene. The early morning bird songs, the gentle whistle, as the wind wisp through the cattails and even a white-tailed doe and her fawn that had come to drink paid Maggie no mind.
Maggie held this shape in the water using sheer will, as a school of curious minnows surrounded this new shape. Slowly, bringing her left hand parallel with her right, Maggie concentrated on transferring her power from one hand to the other.
Maggie waited a bit, making sure her spell maintained its effect, before removing her dominant hand. The bowl began to ripple, and Maggie froze for a moment.
The water steadied, Maggie's right hand reaching into her dress pocket. At this moment the water began to ripple vigorously. She panicked, as her brain shot back and forth, telling her to remain calm. It was too late. All at once, the bowl exploded upwards in a fountain spray, making a sound as if someone fired a shotgun into a barrel of water. The minnows that were nearby, became airborne flying in all directions. The sweet song of birds was replaced by frantic flapping and screeches of horror.
Maggie opened her eyes. She was a statuesque, as the water lapped furiously in front of her on the bank. She was drenched from head to toe as her long black hair clung to her head, neck and shoulders. Streams ran down her face and fed a small pool that had formed between her breasts. She felt something wiggle with a slight slap. Looking down revealed a minnow trying to escape from the very same pool. Maggie plucked him by the tail from her cleavage and held the small creature at eye level. "We'll have none of that," Maggie spoke softly with a smile. She cupped her hands around the minnow, giving him a calming kiss, before returning him to the lake.
Maggie pulled her wet skirt out from under her, stood upright turning around and starting off towards the cottage.
A Strange Occurrence
Following the stream was always the shortest way back home. Since it flowed next to the cottage, through the woods and fed into the lake.
Maggie walked through the heavy, yet low lying fog that often accompanied this particular trail. Her usual white and blue dress still dripping from the morning's event.
She had grown a bit since her sixteenth birthday, although the dress was form fitting, there was a considerable gap between the ground and the length of her dress.
Maggie had bund her hair in the back, leaving only her bangs loose. The thick tendrils accentuating her slender face.
Reaching into her pocket, she threw a few breadcrumbs onto the water's surface. A frenzy of hungry fish darted towards the water's disturbance hoping for their chance at a free meal.
The weather was becoming warm and muggy, but here by the stream it was brisk and chilly. Birds were high in the trees chirping communicatively to one another. Chipmunks and squirrels were scurrying playfully, chasing each other through branches and bramble.
Maggie had removed her black single strap slip-on shoes, bare feet exposed she walked on leaving slight traces of wet footprints as the remaining water ran down her legs.
Maggie usually enjoyed her morning strolls through the woods. However, she was wet and somewhat annoyed at this moment, just wanting to get home to change into something dry and enjoy some hot tea, before starting her chores.
It was at this moment that Maggie froze in position, something wasn't right.
She might not have noticed, but something pulled her back to reality and out of deep thought. She slowly looked around and focusing on what she could not hear. There were no birds singing, no sounds of the stream flowing over rocks. There was complete silence.
Maggie kept very still as she witnessed a figure manifest twenty-five yards in front of her on the trail. The figure wore a greyish white cloak and was already at full stride coming towards her.
Maggie spoke, but the words didn't resonate upon leaving her lips. There was an eerie feeling watching this figure as it seemed to float through the mist. Even though Maggie wasn't completely afraid, she wasn't sure how to react, as her mind raced, her grandmother never spoke of such powerful magic.
The cloaked figure slowed as it made its final approach towards Maggie.
"Be weary. The woods of your home, you are not alone. Ickacheli." These words came through to Maggie's ears gentler than a wisp on the wind.
Maggie tried desperately to make out a face within the hood since they were eye level, but the cloak concealed all features. The cloaked figure's pace quickened, just as fast as it had manifested it faded and was scattered in the wind.
The sounds of nature rushing in and echoing around the hollow. Maggie's head was flooded with the sounds of chirps, the rushing water, leafs rustling and echoing from one side of the hollow to the next.
Dizziness enveloped her mind, but quickly passed.
Kneeling over the bank, Maggie, took a few sips of water from her cupped hand and composed herself once more.
Lamentation
The sun was above the tree line and beaming upon the grassy knoll to which, the cottage so quaintly sits.
Drying herbs hung from the porch, while the hollow wooden wind chimes, Maggie and her grandmother made, clanked softly in the breeze. A wonderful variety of wildflowers lined the porch, continuing a nice path down to the well.
Maggie's goats and sheep were grazing in their small southwest pasture.
A few woodland rabbits were making their way through the gardens, stopping to nibble on the assortment of vegetables and herbs that grew along the east side of the cottage.
The morning dew across the surrounding open field was lifting, as if sleeping spirits rising from their slumber.
Maggie was panting by the time she reached the edge of the tree line that opened onto the knoll. She leaned against a tree for a few seconds, panting and trying to catch her breath.
She could not tell if her clothes were wet from this morning's mishap or sweating, nor did she care.
She would be safely inside her cozy cottage with her grandmother in just a few more seconds.
Maggie pushed off the tree rushing across the north-east section of the lush green lawn towards the porch.
The door was open and the smell of breakfast emanating from within billowed towards Maggie's senses, instantly giving her a secure calm feeling.
All of this was removed the moment she entered the cottage saw her grandmother suspended in mid-air by a cloaked figure, who had its grip on her grandmother's throat.
Maggie lunged towards the intruder.
The effect was less than satisfying, as the intruder vanished the instant Maggie pounced.
The last of her energy was spent as Maggie hit the wall with her shoulder, slumping to the floor.
Witnessing her grandmother fall, like a rag doll to the floor, Maggie cried out.
But there was no response.
Then she caught sight of the intruder, as it ominously stood within the doorway.
Maggie sat up against the wall panting furiously for air, staring into the deep dark recess of the hood.
The comparison was remarkable to the figure she had come across in the woods.
The only difference being, this one carried a long twisting staff that curled at the top.
There was a sound, like blades of metal sliding against one another, and the dark emptiness of the hood changed to a reflective silvery disc, and then the sound of the staff against the wooden floor, followed by footsteps.
Maggie's breathing slowed a bit, her shoulder becoming a nice cherry red color.
Her gaze intensified, as the intruder leaned into a parallel position with Maggie's face.
All Maggie could see was her own angered reflection from within the hood, as she felt herself being drawn in by her own reflection.
Her facial expression fading as darkness began to consume everything but the intruder's hood.
A blinding brightness of spectral colors overtook Maggie's sight. She covered both eyes in her palms, as she began screaming in pain. But the lights were not coming from any external source but from within her own mind.
Maggie awoke to the familiar warmth of her fur lined bed, but she did not move or make a sound she instead listened for any indication of danger. The sounds of the crackling fire and her grandmother setting the table confirmed everything was as it should be.
Maggie thought about what had occurred, thinking that it might have all been a bad dream.
But when she felt the bandage over her eyes and smelt the herbs within, she was convinced it wasn't a dream.
As Maggie slowly rolled over, her shoulder once again reminded her of the events that had conspired and let out a low groan.
"Grandmother?" Maggie managed through another groan of pain, as she sank back into the bed.
"Shhhh. Rest my child. You've been asleep all day," Miryam, her grandmother, responded as she sat down on the bed beside Maggie.
"You have a few bruised ribs along with your shoulder from that little dive into the wall you did," Miryam stated, with an encouraging chuckle.
"The effects of their spell, when one is lucky to escape it, causes temporary sensitivity to light. That is why I had to wrap your eyes. I threw the herbs in there to reduce any swelling and to draw out the spell's residual effects. You should be right as rain soon," said Miryam.
"What spell?" questioned Maggie.
"Let's remove your bandage, so you can see your grandmother's smiling face again." said Miryam, avoiding Maggie's question.
"I outened the candles and the fire are low enough, so it shouldn't be bothersome," said Miryam, as she unraveled the bandage.
Maggie's eyes fluttered a bit, as they tried to adjust to the glow of the dying embers emanating from the fireplace.
"How do they feel?" asked Miryam.
"Fine, they don't seem to hurt or be effected by the light," replied Maggie.
"Really, no effects at all?" said Miryam, with a bit of a puzzled look.
"I see you clear as a cloudless sky, grandmother," exclaimed Maggie.
Miryam reached into her pocket pulling out a small black stone and waved her hand over it.
The stone illuminated a soft yellow glow. Taking the stone between her thumb and forefinger, Miryam held it up.
"It doesn't bother you to look into this?" questioned Miryam.
Maggie shook her head.
Miryam blew on the stone and dropped it back into her pocket before standing.
"Rest, you need to heal before you can start your chores again," Miryam said, with a chuckle. Miryam always had a dry sense of humor.
"Grandmother?" said Maggie.
"Yes, my child?" responded Miryam, as she made her way to the fireplace.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you," Maggie began, as Miryam began dishing a bowl of soup out of the small pot hanging from a chain above the embers.
"I was at the lake practicing the spell you showed me last week.
While there, one of those cloaked figures showed up and told me we were being watched."
Miryam turned to Maggie with a deep gaze in her eyes.
"Who said we were being watched?" said Miryam with a whispery rasp in her voice.
"The other cloaked figure," Maggie replied.
Miryam began towards Maggie when the bowl of soup crashed to the floor, losing her balance and catching herself on the kitchen table.
"Grandmother, are you alright?" Maggie shouted, as she sprang forward, only to be shot back by her own pain.
"I'm fine child," said Miryam, as she stood over the table supporting herself with both hands.
"What's wrong?" asked Maggie.
"I'm just tired, I guess," Miryam said.
Maggie managed to stand and make her way to her grandmother.
"Sit down," said Maggie, as she pulled out a chair helping her grandmother into it.
"I'm fine. Get yourself something to eat and then tell me about what happened while you were out," said Miryam.
Maggie took a bowl from the table and dished herself some potato and herb soup from the pot, wincing in pain as she sat.
Maggie explained the events of that morning, as her grandmother listened tentatively.
"So, that explains why you were wet," laughed Miryam.
"But... The way you describe your encounter is different from the one here in the cottage. Yes, they can vanish and reappear elsewhere, as you found out the hard way," smiled Miryam in an attempt at sarcasm.
"But the one in the woods, the one that gave you the warning... that is unknown by them to alert who they intend to capture or kill," explained Miryam.
"Were there any features about this person, as to any indication, to who they might have been?" asked Miryam.
"None that I can recollect. It was almost as if I was dreaming when it happened," said Maggie.
Miryam paused, clasped her hands together on the table and stared into the fire. Maggie knew that look. It was one her grandmother always made when she was deep in concentrating.
"I was hoping I would never have to tell you about them. But it seems, the time has come for you to know the truth," Said Miryam.
The fire glistened and danced within Miryam's eyes.
"Many years ago..." Miryam began, "your mother and I were faced with these creatures. Mimics we called them."
Miryam paused, facing Maggie, with a grief look upon her face and collapsed upon the table. Maggie panicked, "Grandmother!", ignoring her own pain Maggie flew to her grandmother's side. Maggie noticed Miryam's frantic breathing and the foam resting on her lips, as she managed to sit her upright.
Maggie placed one hand over her grandmother's chest and the other upon her head, closed her eyes and concentrated.
Maggie flashed through millions of her grandmother's memories, before being halted by hues of vibrant, semi-transparent, blues and purples.
"Grandmother!" she shouted with concern.
"I haven't much time left and neither do you, if you stay here. I prepared a pack for you. It's under my bed. Take it and go north. Find Wetsle," Miryam's voice reverberated throughout Maggie.
"I will always love you, my child, in this life and the next," pushing Maggie away with her tendril arms.
There was a flash, as if a vacuum in time and space had been breached. A million tiny, oily, black molecules were drawn together and collected, creating a shape that was becoming all too familiar.
Maggie released her hands, as she watched over her grandmother's final moments. Miryam's breathing shallowed to a few short gasps before releasing a final exhale.
Maggie dropped to her knees, as the emotions hit harder than waves against a cliff in a hurricane. Maggie screamed aloud as streams of tears flowed down her cheeks. Her body tensing with the rage of such anger, that it might have moved mountains at will. Maggie lifted herself to her feet, slammed open the front door, marched off the porch and into the open field arching her chest and head to the sky. "If you want me, come and get me. I'm right here," Maggie shouted into the night sky, before collapsing to the ground weeping with sorrow.
In the distance, a lonely coyote howled a long sigh in return.
It was a bitter end to an already jinxed day.
Maggie was in her tight leather corset with underlaying long sleeve blouse, leather pants and thigh high lace up boots. Her hair still in the braid her grandmother had done up the day before.
It wasn't proper attire for the occasion, but it was the only dark clothing she owned.
"Thank you for knowing how to cheer me up when I was down. Being patience with me, through the times I was stubborn. Thank you for being my guardian over that which frightened me. And my mentor for that which I need to know to survive. But most of all, thank you for being a loving parent." Maggie paused as she wiped away her tears.
"I still feel you with me, just as I always have and so I shall carry on that which you have asked of me, grandmother." Maggie cleared her throat and composed herself a little before reciting the final prayer, "From mother earth we were birthed. By Father Time we have learned. By shelter of the elder trees, we have lived. By fruitful nature we have been given sustainable life. To dust we must return. For which the wheel turns. And so, we bid farewell as our body burns."
Maggie remembered learning the prayer from her grandmother when she was eight years old, after a coyote had gotten a hold of one of her favorite lambs.
With clouds in her eyes Maggie lit the wood pile to which her grandmother's body rest upon.
The sun was reaching the peak of the trees by the time Maggie returned to the cottage. As she entered, she lifted her head and looked around the room. The last of the embers in the fireplace died out long ago and were now a pile of fine grey ash. The broken bowl laid shattered upon the floor. There was a darkness looming about the house, an eerie quiet hung in the air.
Maggie wanted to crawl back into bed and consume herself in sorrow.
She headed towards her alcove on the western side of the cottage, paused, looked at her bed and thought to herself, "No, that is the easy, weak, way. Remember what your grandmother has taught you. Never fear the unknown but attempt to understand it instead. There is a divine plan laid before each of us. We are given the choice to follow it or not." Trying to build her self-confidence. "Follow it I must, if I am to understand what in Hades' name is going on," said Maggie in an assertive tone to herself.
Turning on her heel, Maggie, headed towards the other end of the cottage.
There, just where her grandmother said it would be, Maggie pulled the pack out from under the bed.
She expected it to be, her grandmother's normal rugged travel pack for when they would make their trips to meet with the coven, but it was something different entirely.
Maggie inspected the pack; it was of dark brown color with a main pouch and long single strap. The material was unlike anything Maggie had ever seen. Opening the flap revealed the necessary supplies for a 2-day trek. She closed the flap then sliding the strap over her head, centered the pouch at the small of her back. The sling-pack was feather-light and conformed to Maggie's movements, almost as if it were a part of her body. Maggie caught sight of the walking stick in its nested position beside her grandmother's bed. "You will always be by my side," Maggie said, as she smiled to herself.
Maggie went to the closet and grabbed her goat skin bladder and headed towards the front door. As Maggie reached the door she paused, turned within to take one final look at the life she knew.
"Where one door closes, another door opens," said Maggie as she gently shut the door and headed to the well.
The bucket made an echoed splash, as it crashed into the water below. As Maggie pulled on the rope, bringing the bucket up from its dark depths she heard something on the wind. She paused and listened for a moment before bringing the bucket to the stone ledge of the well's mouth. Opening the goat skin bladder, she began filling it to capacity. Just as she corked the bladder, Maggie heard it again. The wind was making it hard to hear, the chimes on the porch rustled and clanged. She had just finished tying the bladder next to the hip pouch on her belt. When she looked up and saw the cloaked figure standing at the edge of the woods, beckoning her. The goats and sheep, in their enclosed field, began to panic, fleeing in unison towards the farthest side. Maggie spun around and peered over the pasture into the opposing tree line. She couldn't see anything, but then she heard the very faint rustling and snapping of branches as the wind died.
Maggie almost fell backwards, realizing her body was trying to escape before she did. Twisting herself around, she ran at full speed into the woods, where the cloaked figure had been standing.
Maggie had no idea where she was going, she was running out of fear. The northwest trail forked in various places, and she had made random decisions on which path to take. It wasn't long before Maggie needed to catch her breath and her bearings, but the entire time all she kept thinking about was that she was being chased. Finally, Maggie spotted something familiar. A rock formation, that her and her grandmother called the potato patch. Thusly named because the group of giants, smooth, rounded boulders that covered the hillside resembled potatoes. Maggie used to come here to play among the rocks and search for salamanders and snakes when she was a young girl. She never thought she would have to use any of the small caves and alcoves for hiding, but that is just what she did. Leaping from one boulder to another, making her way to one of the larger caves up the hill and then vaulting to the last rock, Maggie turned her body parallel to the gap and squeezed herself inside.
Maggie peered out through the entrance and listened for a long time. There was bird songs and the wind whistling through the rocks and trees. The gap offered little visibility in any direction, other than directly forward, offering a good view of the trail below. When Maggie was satisfied that she wasn't followed, she leaned her back to one side of the cave wall and slumped to the ground. The small amount of light that made its way through the cracks of the cave offered very little visibility. It was almost pitch black and had a damp earthy smell. Maggie felt for her water bladder, uncorked it and brought it to her lips, taking a big gulp before recapped it and returned it to her side. Maggie's hand then made its way into her hip pouch and pulled out a stone, cupped it in her palm with closed fingers and waved her other hand over her fist. Loosening her index finger producing a beam of light, which Maggie used to shine on the opposite wall. She looked around the cave, a few beetles and spiders tried to hide in the crevices of the rock, or scurry away as the light passed over them. Maggie closed her index finger, put her fist to her mouth and blew through her fingers before placing the stone into the pouch. She sighed in disgust, at the terms that had brought her to such a situation. Taking off the pack, she braced it beneath her head as she drifted off to sleep.
It took Maggie most of the night to stack the wood for her grandmother's cremation. "Thank the Goddess," Maggie thought, that she didn't have to split the wood as well. She had hooked her strongest goat up to a small cart to help her carry the load to a spot close to their favorite tree. It bloomed every year during the winter months, usually before a big blizzard. Maggie and her grandmother enjoyed watching the deep purple flowers unfurl in a beautiful bouquet against the white snow.
Maggie was awakened by the screech of a low flying hawk overhead. She sat up and peered out the opening, listening for any indication of danger. It was mid-afternoon. Maggie could tell by the shadows. Taking a stone from her side pouch and illuminating it, she sat it on a small rock shelf above her head and proceeded to wipe the floor clear of debris. After drawing lines in the dirt floor, using pebbles to mark where she could rest and hide, Maggie laid the walking stick next to the topographical map and measured the distance. After doing a few calculations in her head, she whispered to herself; "A Day at best, but what about the area beyond?"
Maggie relinquished the stone of its glow and pocketed it as she thought about what to do next.
Daylight might be too much of a risk, Maggie thought.
---
The moon light always gave the wilderness a creepy look as the black and white colors mingled with dark blue hues, creating unrecognizable shadows that seemed to silently dance among the trees. Aside from her paranoia about the possibility of being stalked by creatures of the night, Maggie was extra cautious about the very high probability that the Mimics were tracking her. On several occasions she took a path leading nowhere, then carefully backtracked within her own footsteps. A few times she tiptoed around or walking up and down a section deliberately breaking branches to lead them in the wrong direction. Maggie stopped to rest when she reached the falls, it was off the beaten path away from danger and no one knew about it. Maggie happened upon the falls a few years ago, by following one of the many streams that cut through the landscape. She had brought Miryam here on more than one occasion as well. Miryam had told her that it was her secret place, a place where she could come and feel safe. Maggie wondered about those words now as she chewed her food. "Did she somehow foresee...?" Maggie's thought trailed off as her eyes caught a glowing blue orb. She watched as it bounced, ducked, disappeared and reappeared, making its way through the brush towards the shallow pool where Maggie was sitting. As it reached the bank, the light dimmed, Maggie could finally make out the definite shape of a fox. Cautiously the fox looked around before kneeling to drink from the water's edge. Maggie sat very still in amazement at the sight of this animal. The blue fox caught sight of Maggie's rippled reflection within the water, stopped drinking, raised its head and glared into her eyes from across the shallow pool. Maggie was caught in a majestic gaze as the two of them studied each other. After determining that neither was a threat to the other, Maggie held out her hand with an offering of food. The fox entered the water, making his way towards her, sniffing the air vigorously in an attempt at determining if what she offered was edible.
In the center of the pool, the fox stopped, looked at Maggie with what seemed like a confirming cuteness that said, 'I trust you, but you must come to me.'
Maggie picked up on this and ever so carefully slipped her feet down the rock and into the water, so as not to frighten him. They never took their eyes off one another, as Maggie made her way towards the blue fox. Kneeling with an outstretched open palm, the fox took the bit of food gingerly. Maggie smiled a big smile as the fox chewed. She couldn't believe how beautiful this creature was or how trusting. As Maggie slowly moved her hand toward the fox's back, there was a brilliant flash of white light. A few seconds later, after Maggie's eyes adjusted, once again to the darkness, she saw that the fox had disappeared.
Maggie paused and concentrated on her surroundings. A flash that bright would have been like a flare to anyone who was searching for her. Maggie heard nothing but an owl hoot, then the familiar shrill sound of a rabbit, who had been caught within the clutches of the carnivorous nocturnal animal. Convinced that nothing was coming for her next, Maggie stood slowly and returned to the rock where she was eating. The small parcel of food lay open on the rock where she had left it, but her pack was nowhere in sight. Maggie searched around the sides of the big rock, thinking it might have fallen, but it wasn't there. Maggie turned around and looking out into the darkened forest, which revealed no answers as to how her pack had suddenly disappeared.
The moon was passing directly over the crest of the waterfall. When Maggie looked up, there standing on the eve of the ledge was the blue fox. Maggie had a disgusted scowl upon her face, as she pointed her finger at him, "You tricked me," Maggie said angerly. The fox simply turned away and disappeared from view.
Maggie picked up a stone and threw it into the waterfall. There were a few plinks, as the stone ricocheted off the rocks, before making a plunk into the water. Maggie sat down where she had been eating, with a feeling of discouragement, she finished the small bit of food that remained. Afterwards, Maggie picked up the cloth napkin, shook the crumbs off, folded it and placed it into her pocket. With a sigh, she leaned back against the damp rock wall, crossed her arms and closed her eyes.
Sounds of the morning filled the air, not just bird songs, but the creaking and moving of tree limbs reaching to greet the rising sun. The orange streams of light through the canopy cast a blurry haze upon the lifting fog. A gentle breeze rustled through leaves, whistled through hollow logs and crept into Maggie's lungs. She coughed as the sweet dense air tickled her throat, which only added to her dazed and confused state, as she opened her eyes. Her back was stiff from being in the same position so long, her ribs and shoulder were still sore.
Maggie kicked a rock from the mound where she was sitting next to the falls, it fell into the water with a hardy 'Thump' sound. That is when she noticed something different, it was fairly light given the size and hadn't taken her any effort to move. The second thing she noticed, was that when it hit the water, it turned from a dark brownish green to a light sandy color, the same color as the bank where the water pooled.
Maggie reached down and picked it up, it was soft and wet, as she turned it over, she realized it was her pack. Setting the pack on her lap, she watched as if it absorbed the dark red-ish-brown of her pants. The fox wasn't a trickster as she had thought. With her spirit once again uplifted, Maggie made a quick check of the contents, everything was dry. She shouldered the pack and set forth once again.
The Mimics were an erratic breed, or perhaps some kind of mysticism she didn't yet understand. Then again, they could be waiting for an opportune time, farther ahead to ambush her. All of this went through Maggie's mind as she began making her way through the thicket. The main trail ended not far after the falls, forcing her to take the small game trails. Perhaps they only wanted her grandmother, but why would they have returned the next day? Maybe they weren't returning but making sure the lone Mimic completed its task. There had been no sign of them after her escape yesterday, but Maggie knew it best to remain on guard. After a short and strenuous time of ducking and weaving herself through the jagged spines of the thorny bushes and closely knitted saplings, Maggie found herself reaching the edge of the forest.
An open field with waist high grasses, yellow and purple flowers filled every square foot of this sun-drenched oasis.
Maggie stood upright, straining to see across the brightly lit landscape.
Mirage of heat vapors elevated from the ground, before swirling with the cooler winds above.
Several beautifully colored butterflies fluttered and soared on these tiny updrafts, as they made their way from flower to flower.
Squinting a bit, Maggie placed her hands around her eyes, shielding them from the sun. It wasn't until she had turned eastwards, that she heard what sounded like the trotting of horses.
It had been so quiet, that Maggie didn't understand how she could not have heard them sooner.
As she squinted to see who or what was coming, she felt a slight sting upon her neck, then seeing the sun whiz past her vision as she collapsed to the soft grassy ground below.
----
Maggie awoke to the sounds of rushing water, the starless night sky above, and the moon emanating its eerie glow across the land.
Fireflies winked in and out of sight as the crickets began to chirp.
The night life of the wilderness coming to life, like that of an orchestra tuning their instruments.
Maggie, confused and hazy, realizing where she was, just as she witnessed a thick fog beginning to pour over the fall's edge covering the surrounding area within seconds.
Maggie was completely blinded by the density of the fog and began to feel a little panicky.
All sound ceased right before a giant crack of lightning pounded in her ears as a brilliant flash lit up the night sky.
Maggie ran in an unknown direction, she didn't care what direction, as long as it was away from the lightning and out of the fog.
But the fog was everywhere, the lightning seemed to follow her, always nipping at her heels.
It wasn't long until she came upon a clearing, free of the fog, and the lightning seemed to have vanished as well.
It was very dark, as if there was no moon in the sky, but when Maggie looked up, there it was still brightly illuminating its silvery sheen.
In the distance, a little way a way she saw a dimly lit window.
Running towards the light gave her quite a shock, she stopped and froze just in front of the porch's landing.
It was the cottage, her grandmother's cottage, the house she too grew up in.
Looking behind her she couldn't see anything; it was an empty void of blackness.
Maggie faced the cottage and took a step onto the landing, without making a sound, the door opened and released a slither of the fire's light from within as if it were peeking out, or inviting her in.
Maggie's face turned pale with fright, yet nothing could keep her from entering, as she slowly opened the door.
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ADENDUM:
Maggie Mayweather was intended to be a novella based around dark-magic with a nod towards Greek Mythology and the intent of having the reader question their own character by the end.
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Disclaimer:
All rights are reserved to the creator (Geist Von PA).
This document (Entitled; Maggie Mayweather), partial or entirety, may not be reproduced or copied without the written and signed consent of the creator.
The depictions of characters, places and/or objects within this story are fictitious and are purely concoctions of the creator's mind and are not the subject of any person(s) living or dead.
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