Cara and the Will-o'-the-Wisp - Chapter One: Tuesday
[Author's Note: Before I lost access to my last two tumblrs. Well, one I deleted and the last one I lost access to when my last laptop shit itself and died. I thought this story was lost, and more the better, yeah? But I found it which means it needed to be worked on.]
In that massive house on the hill, under its old, creaky stairs. Nestled in the darkness of shadows, sat an ancient, knotty wooden door. Its looked like any other door whose vibrant paint long faded and chipped away, matched the rest of the house. But to young Cara, it was more than that. Its allure reminiscent of the enchanting siren songs she had read about in one of her many books—it beckoned her. While the movers brought in the last of her family's boxes and furniture, she approached the door with wide eyes. Of which were distinctively-colored: one eye a light blue-green whilst the other a brown-orange amber. More distinctive than anything else about her, at least outwardly.
With all the strength she could summon in her slender frame, with an unwavering determination against all odds, she pulled the door open halfway. Only for the rusty hinges to give up and refused to budge any further. Disappointment washed over her as Cara peered into the darkness. Encountering nothing but wispy spider webs, a stench of disuse, and a single empty wooden box adorned with a faded Black Cat Cigarettes logo. And when she pushed it to the side, stirred up nothing but a cloud of dust that tickled her nose and caused her to sneeze in response.
As naturally curious and inquisitive as a kitten, Cara could not believe she discovered this perfectly hidden gen just after she pushed open the front door of her family's new home. Despite this find, as Cara looked around, this unfamiliar place failed to provide even a single ounce of comfort or warmth that Oregon had with its every tree, cloud, and blade of grass. Maine simply did not have that home-like feeling for her. Not even a little. Yet it did have a uniqueness of its own.
At least she had one thought that helped her out: at least everything is new and exploring is fun! This comforted and excited her.
Mother could tell Cara's disappointment with being in Maine, not that it took a psychic to figure out. She would repeatedly tell her daughter to give it time. And Father told her to not let it try to replace Oregon, but to let it stand on its own. That just off the boundaries of the property laid a lush forest older than any human memory. When winter would come, so much snow would blanket everything that Cara loved no matter how old she got. And yet, all of this she looked forward to exploring, here and now, Cara never thought it would ever feel like home.
And yet the house itself sat perched atop of what the locals called Little Mountain, even if Cara didn't consider it more than just a regular hill. Capped with a dramatically-inclined, tall, steepled roof which towered high above. Providing a spacious attic space used as storage for decades but now converted to a singular apartment. Which was where a curious old man lived. Mr. Jakub Kaczmarek, was his name, and referred to himself as a former marine biologist from way back when and liked to train cats to do tricks in his off time. Beyond an odd man, he was never short of a tall tale to regale her with. Carried with him an aura of unconventional wisdom. Alongside the acrid, bitter scent of cheap tobacco and cheaper alcohol.
Opposite, beneath the creaky floorboards, a deep and wide wine cellar as ancient and dusty as the bottles it housed. Down here the twelve-year-old girl knew she could find adventure, and scares, both in equal and fun measures. Though the shelves within laid mostly barren, there did exist a few glass bottles with French-sounding names and a layer of dust thick with ages. Much like everything else here.
The rotund land lady, Mrs. Robyn Clarke, reassured the family that anything in the bottles was far from fit for consumption. Cara couldn't help but wonder why anyone would try to drink something so old, older than even her grandparents. On top of that, she knew vividly what happened every time Mother indulged in the wine she kept in that little wooden cabinet—Father had it made just for her several years ago. Smelled bad.
Wine is just so gross. Cara's upper lip curled as she thought about it and the adults discussed whatever they did about the soured wine in the dusty bottles.
For her next exploration required, thankfully, to go outside. Stepping onto the back porch, that despite it being summer, a cool, salt-accentuated breeze ruffled her reddish-blonde hair. Cara gazed at all around her. More precisely, nestled midway down the hill and behind the house, where the land protruded before it sloped at a gentle angle until it reached the ground. Sat an ageless, well-maintained garden that pulsated with an unseen energy and magic to her. At its entrance stood a wooden sign that proudly proclaimed that the garden was first designed and planted in the mid-1800s by some one named Louis Bennefield. Who tended to it until the day he died. But right now, as part of his rent, it sat under the careful stewardship of Mr. Kaczmarek. Who spent many an hour under the shade of the massive red oak tree that sat in the center, speaking about how his mother always tended to the garden back home in Chelm. He inherited her skills, after all.
Carrying with it a natural majesty, the weather-beaten trees provided a protective wall around the perimeter. Not just for the delicate flowers and ornamental shrubbery, but for anyone who just wished a moment to sit down on a bench. And it all cast a spell on Cara as she watched the dappled shadows that the summer sun created over such vibrantly-colored flowers. These ancient, robust giants seemed so impressive to her. A singular dawn redwood, a couple of those red oaks, a Norway pine, and various balsam firs. At least that's what the little identification plaques called them. But she couldn't stay outside all day, unfortunately.
So, back inside and up in her room, Cara started to unpack her boxes. Putting her extensive book collection on the shelves. She pinned her posters to the walls: some of her favorite bands, a Tegan and Sara one prominent, as well as a few WNBA players. That was her sport, after all. It took her longer than expected, but when done, she sprinted out of her bedroom and outside before anyone could say a word to her. Cara wanted to take a walk and look around a bit. Passing by flowers, their aromatic sweetness caused the air to taste so lovely. When combined with that fading warmth of the late afternoon sun, Cara found every part of her invigorated. Her fingers brushed across the top of a black-purple leaf from a barberry shrub, which stood at the back of the garden near the trail that winded its way towards the edge of the property.
At the edge of the property sat a squat, single-level home, its faded white paint peeled in the summer sun. Just past that a few yards started that mysterious, ancient forest perhaps older than time itself. Suddenly came a cooling breeze; Cara wrapped her arms around her torso, hands on her shoulder for a moment. The leaves on the trees rustled and danced for a moment until the wind died down.
Past a tiny blue bird singing on a branch, Cara walked up to the home and stepped up onto the porch, which creaked under her weight. She knew it was the home of the landlady and her broadly-shoulder husband. Both as unassuming as the home itself. And furthermore, as she stood there, she had no real idea why she came here. Yet she did. So with a deep breath, Cara knocked on the door.
"Oh no, don't get up at all. I obviously got it!" the voice of a girl came from behind the door. Followed by a solid creak and the door opened with a squeak. "Oh, hi," said the girl with wide green eyes and a curious gaze. Twirling a finger in her tight orange curls that bounced with each movement. "Oh! I know you. That new girl that just moved into the house, right?"
"Exactly! My name is Cara," she introduced herself. "Nice to meet you."
“I’m Rowan, it is good to meet ya as well, Cara.”
When Rowan smiled it lit up her well-defined, angular face, who stepped aside and invited Cara to come in with a wave of her hand. Hit with a wall of air-conditioned atmosphere, far-too-cold for her and even the weather as it was not that hot. Almost like an icebox. An old, worn-out couch, its fabric threadbare and whose springs squeaked and bounced with each moment. And splayed across the couch with legs propped up on the coffee table sat lanky twin brothers: Steven, who had shoulder-length orange hair except without the curls, and Sam had a buzz cut of vaguely orange color. Both seventeen and too cool for Cara and Rowan. Yet they reminded her of two lazy birds, faces buried in their Nintendo Switches. Not word said between anyone.
They moved past the twins into a narrow hallway off to the right. Overhead sat a light that flickered and sputtered but kept on living. Grinning, Rowan pointed to the door on the right with a caution-yellow "Do Not Enter" sign on it. Someone crudely drew a skull underneath it.
"This is my room," Rowan stated the obvious. "My sanctuary. No one is really allowed in."
Cara gave an overly-dramatic, flourishing bow with a wide grin on her face. "Well, dang, I'm honored," she intoned with the provenance of nobility—or at least how she imagined it.
Once inside, she looked around at the kaleidoscope of visual delights that greeted Cara. Vibrant posters adorned the walls, much like her own. Showcasing many different fierce female soccer players in mid-action that she knew nothing about, but each of their faces looked so determined as they were captured in time. Interspersed among them were familiar faces of musicians. A repeating one that Cara herself adored was Tegan and Sara.
"Oh, snap. You like T'n'S too? I've only met older fans. Like, really older ones on tumblr and such."
"I dig their earlier sound more, but Heartthrob is such a banger through and through."
"Sainthood all the way."
In the corner sat a small desk with a laptop opened upon it that cast a gentle blue hue on the surrounding area and played some indie song Cara was not familiar with. Whilst an older model phone, plugged into its charger. But what intrigued her the most, was the neatly-stacked collection of well-loved, creased young adult fantasy novels. Their colorful spines whispered tales of adventure and escapism.
"Get comfortable, get comfortable. Chillax." Rowan smiled as she plopped down on the foot of her bed.
Cara thanked her new neighbor and sat beside the taller girl. "So, how old are you?"
“Twelve.”
“Awesome, I turned twelve this past April.”
“My birthday is February twenty-ninth. I’m a leap year, baby.”
Cocking her head, Cara asked, "wait, so you only celebrate your birthday every four years?"
Rowan laughed a good-natured, warm laugh. "No, no. Usually the twenty-eighth. Though it is nice when I can celebrate it on the correct day. Rare as it may be."
"So," Cara dragged on the word. "I am going to assume you like soccer. Like, a lot."
“Love it. Do you play?”
"I've played a little here and there, but my game is basketball. Been playing it my whole life." Cara stretched out her lanky legs out in front of her. "My friend Erika, b-back in Oregon, she played soccer a lot." Shaking her head, she sighed softly. "Would be cool to learn how to play more than just the basics."
"And I'd love to learn how to play basketball. You know, more than just the basics and all, too."
"Oh, that would be cool!" Cara added. "But, until then, is there anything interesting 'round these parts?"
With curls that bounced about her face as she nodded, Rowan said: "okay, so this is a very old and weird place—you know what I mean? I don't know everything. I have lived here my entire life. So, I bet, I can show you a thing or two that is interesting. Maybe you'll find 'em cool."
Standing with a start, Cara clapped her hands. Despite their newness she almost immediately felt a connection between them. "Hell yeah!" she exclaimed. "I'll love to check 'em out. Oregon had some nice places to explores, but we did not have a forest like this just outside my home."
Rowan giggled a soft little giggle that sounded far softer and gentler than one would expect. "Awesome!" She jumped up, and stood taller than Cara by a bit more than either girl noticed before. Mostly legs, lanky and tall, much like her brothers. "Kind of a few dope places. Have a vibe I just" — she shrugged her shoulders — "can center myself in."
A moment passed between them as Rowan seemed to stare deeply into Cara. "Before we go." The taller girl chewed on her bottom lip before she let out a breath and continued: "not to be rude or weird or a creepo. Just wanted to say. Your eyes are super unique."
Cara let a smirk broaden her face. “Is that good or bad?”
“It’s awesome, cool, and very much, in your own way, so very unique. Very good."
“Cool.” Cara had to will herself from blushing at the compliment.
As they stepped outside, a stiff wind blew that expertly mixed with the briny aroma of the ocean and the local flowers and trees into a concoction that Cara wouldn't mind having as a perfume. Alongside Rowan, the looked toward the trees. Before she led her new friend just past the treeline. A few steps into the woods itself, where it darkened just so. Rowan wore a sly smile directed Cara into a tiny grove surrounded by a copse of red cedars and sugar maples.
Long ago, someone arranged massive boulders and smaller stones into what looked to Cara a sort of geometric pattern that dotted the central grassy knoll. All of it intrigued her, each rock shaped in an interesting way. No rhyme or reason. And it activated her kitten-like curiosity. The quickest way to become her friend. Running her fingertips across the rough surfaces of the stone—some were moist whilst others felt bone dry—added to the distinctiveness of each one. Then, just outside of the geometric pattern, she saw one that bore an uncanny resemblance to a disfigured face when viewed at a slight angle.
"Oh these are freaking awesome," Cara hummed as she clapped her hands together. "You were right, dude."
With a dramatic flair, Rowan hopped onto an ancient, massive tree stump. She sat and watched Cara, who spent several long moments in admiration of each large rock. As Cara looked over at her new friend, she could not help but think Rowan looked a lot like a goddess of the forest sitting on her stump throne. Cara said, "this is wonderful. Thank you for sharing it with me."
"I found this place so long ago," Rowan sighed as she pulled a knee up to her chest while the other dangled off the stump. "Sam was acting like a straight ass. I don't fully remember 'bout what, just he was. So I ran. Ran as fast as I could into the forest and just happened upon this grove. It was fall. I remember that everything was so verdant and colorful. I think I remember that more than anything else.
"I crumbled to my knees in front of this stump. Face buried in my arms. Just weeping for who knows how long. Eventually, when my tears finished. I looked around me and was without words—you know what I mean? The stones, dude, just caught me off guard. I think I've studied each one hundreds of time. The twins found me some time after, and just hung with me here. Sam apologized, as he always does. Seemingly so long ago but only a few years."
Rowan let out a deep sigh. "Let's go check something else out, yes?" Standing up and pointing toward the trail. "Not too far away. It's a spot even better than here."
Further along the trail and past an overturned tree that Rowan explained, "the last storm knocked it down," where behind a could of trees that acted as a blind and a waist-high rock came into the next curiosity that piqued Cara. A large fairy ring where the forest had thinned out enough to let the sun filter through into the middle. Each mushroom squishy, tiny and brown-speckled, which stunk when crushed underfoot. Despite their stench, she had to resist taking one home with her. Mother would explode in quite the physical sense if she tried to grow them in an aquarium, or dried them out on the windowsill.
Mother's words rang out in her head, "what are you doing?! Those could be toxic and dangerous!" A sharp, snorting laugh escaped Cara.
With parsed lips, Rowan cocked an eyebrow. “What’s up?” she asked.
“Sorry, just thought of something stupid. Something my mom would say.”
With a tone that turned south, and a smile which disappeared, Rowan asked, "you want one of 'em, right? Don't. They are awful."
Though intrigued, Cara just nodded and followed Rowan down the trail further. Deeper into the woods, yet not too far, stood an ancient stone well built by hand with craggy and misshapen stones. Green-blue moss and algae coated it like a thin skin. An ancient wooden roof-like structure bleached from years of exposure covered the top, looked as if it held a rope and bucket at some point. Broken lever discarded off to the side and hidden among the weed. Whilst a heavy stone lid kept everything out, and maybe in, and despite Cara's growing strength and athleticism, the lid remained immovable and in place. Much like the toad that sat on it. Who croaked its displeasure with a simple, "ribbit."
"Yeah, good luck with that." Rowan hopped up and sat on the lid. Her boots almost reached the ground, and when Cara sat beside, their knees touched.
The toad croaked once more and jumped off the lid. Cara commented, "kinda gross to think people drank out of that. Can you imagine what lives in there?"
"Toad water." Rowan's pert nose scrunched up. "But there's one last thing I wanna show you today. Before my mom gets home and starts yelling for me."
“My mom would just send me a text.”
A short, “hah,” came from Rowan. “Phones don’t work that well out here. Probably all the trees.”
“What else would it be?”
Rowan shrugged. “No idea. Magic.”
"Hell." The rough stone lid scratched at Cara's denim jeans when she pushed herself off. "What other cool shit do you got to show me? Hard to top any of this."
The smile that adorned Rowan’s heart-shaped face grew ever wider. “The coolest thing of ‘em all.”
Further down, deep into the woods by this point, a tilted wooden sign with words etched into its roughly-hewn surface directed towards Haven Bay just under two miles through the wood. Thick, archaic tree limbs seemed to almost form an arch that crossed over the trail. Roots, gnarled and twisted, jutted out of the ground, covered in moss and pieces of what seemed to be parasitic plants, and even formed what looked to be portals to another dimension.
The fay-world, Cara thought. Not gonna fool me.
Despite the summer's sun, the thick canopy kept out the majority of its warming rays. Though a thick moisture permeated the air, and hinted at the bogs and swamps that lingered further in. Mixed in with the earthy aroma of toadstools and musky fiddlehead ferns. Along that constant sweet scent of decaying undergrowth that seemed permanent. If someone told Cara this was heaven, she’d have no complaints or arguments.
When Rowan surprised Cara by taking her hand, it caused Cara's breath to hitch for only a split-second. The softness of her pal contrasted with the strength that obviously held within Rowan's grip. Who let the way toward a rather massive tree stump that seemed older than the forest itself. Almost as if it had existed since the land itself formed. So much bigger, different from than one in the grove—this stump seemed far grander, greater, and in all senses of the word, magical. At one point many eras ago, a gigantic tree towered above all others. It almost reminded Cara of a throne, where the real Queen of the Forests sat to d survey her domain.
Impressing Cara, Rowan jumped on top of the stump. Causing her pants to pull up a bit to show off her mismatched socks, that seemed deliberate more than accidental. As she spoke, her voiced came out lilting, "this place is magical, isn't it? Something here. You can feel it, right? Don't you feel it? Well, I've always felt something here. A connection. The twins both speak about going to college, moving away from here. To see the world. But me? Nah. I might go elsewhere for a bit, but I will always come back here."
She reached up to take a long three-pronged leaf off of a tree. Tossed it into the air where an unfelt breeze took it away on a brief dance before it landed. There came not a single doubt in Cara's mind that this place was special, at least the forest was. Maybe not the rest of the island. However, there could be no denial that this felt as close to the earth, to mother nature, anyone could get.
But magic? Cara thought. She didn’t have an answer for that. "I dunno 'bout magic, but you are right. Something truly special is here. So, thank you."
Rowan turned to look at Cara. "For what?"
"You know—thanks for trusting me and sharing your favorite spots." Cara smiled as she buried her hands into her pockets.
She climbed onto the stump to sit on the edge, Rowan moved to sit down beside. And for an indeterminable amount of time they sat together in silence. The surrounding forest went about its regular activity. Everything seemed so alive here, more so than Oregon ever seemed. With that, Cara had never felt so comfortable with someone so fast. Something, she told herself, that I have to unpack later.
After what seemed to be hours and the shadows grew ever-longer, Rowan went to speak. Yet before she could utter a sound, her mother's piercing, shrill voice echoed through the tree like a sharp knife. Which seemed to echo off the trees. So, with a wave, Rowan trotted off.
Taking a moment to consider if she wanted to stay here alone, Cara felt a shiver run down her spine and dug a deep pit into the bottom of her stomach. Staring off into the trees caused her heart to gallop at the thought of being out here alone. Skin prickled with pinprick-sized goosebumps. Yet something deep into the woods seemed to move off into he shadows. Probably an animal, but Cara was not so sure. This made her reflect on the words her newfound friend had imparted. This lit up another flicker of curiosity to light up her mind. However, in the end, she hopped off the stump and followed Rowan out of the woods with a quickened pace.
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