My bed felt like it had been carved from stone. My skull pulsed with a headache so fierce, I could hear my heartbeat echo in my ears. And the light—blinding.
Why is it so bright? Did I forget to close the curtains?
I cracked one eye open.
Not my ceiling. The sky. Clear and impossibly blue, like it had been painted there.
My heart stuttered.
I sat up with a groan. Every muscle protested. The ground beneath me was cracked and dry, and the air tasted faintly of smoke and iron. Around me stretched a flat, blackened field—as if a wildfire had passed through years ago and no one had bothered to come back.
“What the hell...?”
I turned in a slow circle, searching for... anything. A road, a sign, a power line. But there was nothing. Just the wind brushing through whatever these tall, burnt stalks used to be. Not grass—too long for that. Crops, maybe. Whatever they were, they were dead now. I hoped no one still needed them.
My mouth was bone dry. My hands trembled.
Not again.
I dropped to my knees and pressed a palm to the brittle earth.
“Three things,” I whispered. “Just three.”
The cracked soil under my hand.479Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1yZNPVNIfb
The faint pulse in my thumb.479Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5AhhdRc15p
The silence wrapping everything like fog.
Breathe.
In the distance, I caught a smudge of grey against the sky. Smoke. Not the wild, curling kind that meant fire—this was steady. Controlled. A chimney, maybe?
I got to my feet and stumbled forward. My legs felt rubbery, like I’d run a marathon in my sleep.
My backpack lay nestled between the blackened stalks, almost like someone had gently set it there. A shiver ran down my back. I grabbed it fast and flipped it open.
Phone—yes. Ninety percent battery. No signal. No Wi-Fi. Emergency number: nothing.
The last photo in my gallery was me, Mom, and Keith on our porch, grinning like we’d already arrived at the next chapter. I didn’t even remember taking it. The one before that showed an airport. A suitcase. Boarding signs blurred in the background.
Plane snacks. Thank God for past-me.
No clues. Just questions.
I set off toward the smoke.
Hours passed—or maybe it was less. I couldn’t tell anymore. The sun began its slow descent behind me, casting a golden haze over the landscape. The burnt field had long given way to something alive—tall blue-green crops swaying softly in the breeze.
And then, just ahead, a clearing.
A cottage.
Small. Slanted. Smoke curled lazily from its chimney.
Relief surged in my chest—then froze.
Rustling.
Behind me. Low. Quick. Too deliberate.
I turned.
Something moved through the crops—not tall, no higher than my thigh—but too smooth, too fluid. Not a rabbit. Not a bird. Its fur shimmered like oil, colors shifting with every step. Black, green, purple. Its eyes locked on mine—large, deep, alien.
We stared at each other.
I tilted my head. It did too.
I raised a hand.
It snarled.
Then it lunged.
I ran.
And maybe screamed.
The thing hissed behind me—fast, close. My feet pounded the ground. My lungs burned.
The cottage door. Ten steps. Five.
I pounded on it with both fists. “Hello?! Please—someone—help!”
The door creaked open like a scene from every horror movie ever made.
An old woman stood in the doorway. Not hunched. Not weak. Still. Her white hair was pulled back tight, her eyes sharp and dark—too dark. They reflected the last light of the sun in a way that made my skin crawl.
“What is the matter with you, child?” she snapped.
“Something chased me—an animal. It was just there—” I turned, breath catching.
Nothing.
Just crops swaying softly in the wind.
She narrowed her eyes. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“I’m not lying!” I said quickly, my voice shaking despite me. “Please—I’m lost. I don’t know where I am. If you could just point me to a police station—”
“Police?” she echoed, as if I’d said ‘spaceship.’ “You’re not from here.”
“No,” I said, too fast. “I—I was on a tour. Got separated. The guide—Philip—must’ve missed me.”
The lie rolled off easier than I expected. Stranger danger. I didn’t want her knowing how lost I really was.
She stepped outside, letting the door swing wide. The warmth inside hit me like a wall—woodsmoke, herbs, something sharp and bitter.
Trinkets hung along the cottage walls: feathers tied with twine, bone charms, jars filled with things that shimmered like light trapped in water.
She walked to the edge of a low wooden fence, lifted a hand to the sky, and muttered something I couldn’t catch.
“Damn rattler,” she mumbled, then turned back. “Your guide’ll be along. Wait outside.”
The door shut with finality.
No guide. No clue. No help.
I sank to the ground, back against the cottage wall, just behind the wire fence. If the creature came back, it’d have to get through that first.
My legs ached. I checked my step counter—ten miles. I hadn’t imagined it.
I closed my eyes for just a second.
Birdsong woke me.
The sun was gone. I’d slept for two hours. The field looked eerie in the twilight. That... creature hadn’t returned.
I knocked again.
The same face answered, still grumpy.
“No one came,” I said.
The old woman peered at me, unimpressed. "Another one of them, are you? Chasing fables and shadows for coin. Always sniffing at my door with wide eyes and empty heads."
"No, no, I swear—I just got lost," Alex insisted, voice too quick. I winced. Bad liar.
The woman studied me a beat longer, then turned back into the cottage. "Well, in or out. I've not the patience to stand here while you rattle your nerves."
Alex hesitated. Her fingers twitched. Then, driven by a mix of desperation and instinct, she slipped inside.
The women returned with food and gestured for me to clear the table. Full of odd books and things. I did. We ate in silence. The soup was rich, strange, delicious.
“What’s with those strange clothes?” she asked mid-bite.
“Uh... modern fashion?” I replied. I am wearing the latest jeans Thank you very much.
Before she could ask me anything else I forced a smile. "Do you... have a phone? Maybe I could call someone instead."
The woman stilled. Not for long—just enough to notice.
"Phone," the woman repeated, as if tasting the word. "No child, there is no signal here."
“What’s your name?”
“Alexandra. Alex.”
“Where are you from?”
“Uzbekistan... but I live in England now.”
She studied me. “You’re far from both, then.”
Before she could ask more questions I’d have to lie about, I jumped in.
“What’s your name?”
“You may call me Grandma Teri.”
She said it with a smile that wasn’t quite kind. As if letting me lie. Letting me think I was clever.
“Grandma Teri, your soup is amazing.”
She actually laughed. A low, dry chuckle. “You’d be the first to say that.”
Before I could ask what she meant, she stood. “Come.”
She led me behind a curtain to a simple bed. Next to it was a door to a small, old-fashioned bathroom.
“I’ve contacted the authorities. They’ll come tomorrow.”
Wait, when did she do that? She hadn’t used a phone. Did she lie? Who lie about that.
Still, I mumbled a thank-you,
Alex sat, legs aching. Every nerve told her to bolt—but something else held her. Curiosity? Exhaustion? Or maybe it was the woman’s eyes. They watched her like they knew something. Something she hadn’t said aloud.
As she settled into a creaky wooden chair, she heard the woman mutter into a bundle of dried rosemary.
"Strange stars. Stranger blood. Not from this turning..."
Outside, the spell fluttered into the wind, seeking a rattler, a guide, anyone who’d answer.
Inside, Grandma Teri—known once to the people of Eldra as the Witch of Tallowmere—watched the girl with sharp, knowing eyes. Not a tourist. Not a trespasser. Something far rarer.
A lost piece of a forgotten story.
And stories always come home.
479Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsrUk8STYLN
and then Add to home screen.