Excerpt: There Was an Old Woman

The trees groaned as the wind pushed up against arthritic branches. Each new gust brought a flurry of leaves tumbling from the aging fingers that were trying in vain to hang on their last vestiges of summer glory. Sonia reached up to catch a golden leaf as it swirled and danced over her head. Just as she was about to capture it, another gust whipped her silver and copper locks across her eyes. The leaf wriggled away and Sonia could almost hear it laugh as it was swept out of her reach. She pushed her hair back from her face and turned into the wind. It also laughed as it swirled about her. She welcomed it with her arms spread wide and laughed back at it. It was a clear, deep laugh that echoed the rustling of the leaves and the groaning of the trees. The wind twisted her hair across her face one more time before going on its way deeper into the forest.

Sonia cleared her face again and sighed as she watched the playful wind disappear into the forest. Once it was gone, she continued down the path that had brought her so far from her cottage in the forest. It wasn’t often that she left her home -- maybe twice a year -- and this was not her usual time. She drew her cloak closer and pulled the hood over her head so that one would barely be able to see her eyes. The village was close by.

In the village, an old man lay in bed coughing phlegm from somewhere deep in his lungs. A woman -- younger than a hard life had made her look -- stood over a tub of clothes. Her hands red and cracked. A store keeper waited as he had all day for even one customer to come and buy. A child stood in an alley scanning the passersby for a friendly or understanding face.

Sonia entered the village feeling it all. Long ago the villagers had decided she was a little bit insane, and so they avoided her when she entered their village -- even as she avoided them. Neither understood the other, but she came closer to understanding them for she had once been as they were. But that was so long ago that it barely registered on the landscape of her vast memories.

On this day Sonia did not come to the village to buy or to sell. She walked past the general store and the dry goods store. The tailor shop and the baker. The butcher shop and the stationer’s. Without hesitation she passed them all. She had but one purpose on this visit.

A store keeper glanced up and saw an old woman in rags pass by. A woman doing the wash looked over the clothes line and saw an old woman pass by. An old man in his bed stared at the open doorway and saw an old woman pass by. A child shivered in an alley and saw…

Sonia stopped in her determined path and looked at the child. She turned to face him. He was no more than ten years of age, but his face held something in it that almost seemed a reflection of Sonia’s own. She stepped into the alley and pushed the hood back from her face. The child’s face broke out into a smile as though he recognized her.

“Come,” she said.

Then she replaced her hood and turned back on her chosen path. The child followed her. So they continued in silence for several more minutes. They came to the village square, and without pause they turned to the right. This part of village used to be more than it was now, and as they continued it became still less. The buildings gradually spread further apart.

Finally, they stopped in front of a particularly old building. The last bits of paint clung tenuously to the grayed clapboard. There wasn’t a single pane in its many windows that wasn’t cracked. Sonia took this all in in but a second. She reached for the door knob -- black with tarnish -- and opened the door. Once they were inside she turned to the child.

“What is your name?” she asked him.

“Barnaby,” the child answered.

“Do you like your name?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Then your name will longer be Barnaby,” she said. “Your name is now Trystan. Do you like that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Trystan answered. “Thank you ever so much.”

“Now, Trystan, you must wait here while I go upstairs,” she said. “There are toys to play with and books to read and a couch to rest upon if you get tired. There is also food to eat and water to drink should you get hungry or thirsty.”

She stroked his copper hair and traced the line of his jaw to his chin. Then she smiled and turned to go up the stairs at the far end of the hallway.

“Why?” Trystan asked suddenly.

“Why what?” Sonia responded as she turned to back to him.

“Why me?” Trystan asked. “Why all this? Why me?”

“Because you saw me,” Sonia answered, and with a swift movement and light step she left him behind her and ascended the stairs into the rooms above. When she reached the top step, she briefly looked behind just long enough to see Trystan helping himself to a loaf of bread. She smiled and turned back to the hall now before her.

The hall was dark, but not completely without light. Where the light came from would have been hard to say, but it was just enough to be able to make out the many doors that lined the hallway. She proceeded to the first door, held her hand above the latch for a moment and moved on to the next. She did this repeatedly until she was a little over half way down the hall. Here she paused and looked intently at the door with her hand on the latch. Yes, it was the right one. She pulled the latch and opened the door. The blackness inside almost overwhelmed her, but she swung the door wide open and stood firmly in the doorway.

“Darkness dispel,” she said. “Light be here.”

A faint light in the far corner of the room showed itself. Growing in intensity it pushed against the darkness until it filled the room. In the center of the room sat a chair facing a fireplace. As the light filled the room the fireplace crackled and sparked to life. Sonia walked around to the chair and sat down to wait. She did not have long to wait. She knew he would be here soon. She knew that the same thing that had drawn her here would be drawing him also, and now that the room was ready he would be coming all the more quickly.

A wisp of smoke escaped the fireplace. It curled and danced then dissipated. Another followed -- this one stronger, bolder.