Shadows (WIP)

Shadows

A light wind tousled Asha’s caramel-colored hair as she hurried down the block. She wrapped her brown knit cardigan tighter around her, trying to ward off a chill that only she could feel. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and kids were playing joyfully in the spray of an illegally tapped fire hydrant, but none of it touched Asha. The chill wasn’t anything that others could feel; it was deep within her.

She should have never agreed to write the horoscope column in addition to her music and movies column for The Weekly Herald, Burchester’s newspaper, but when all the food in her cupboard were Ramen noodles and canned pears, she had swallowed her pride and accepted the extra money it brought her. Normally small town papers used the horoscopes that larger city papers printed, but in this case, her Uncle Jack owned the paper and wanted to put a familiar face on the town’s fortunes.

“Put that English degree to use and make sure it’s readable,” had been Uncle Jack’s only admonishment.

It had been fun at first, harmless even. Just a bit of jiggerypokery, a bit of nonsense that helped to pay her bills while she looked for something better. It was harmless.

Until what she wrote started coming true.

It hadn’t been anything really big, at first. People joked with her, asked if they could get a personal reading, but no one seemed to take it seriously, least of all Asha. She would write that Wednesday would not be a good day for picnics, and it would rain; or that dog owners should keep a keen eye on their dogs, and she would hear that Brutus, Mrs. Bartholomew’s Miniature Schnauzer, had run away. It was just random stuff like that, coincidence.

Then there was Benny.

A week ago, she had written her column, as usual; maybe with a bit more hesitation than normal, but she still had a job to do. It had seemed innocuous enough, just more harmless fun. Uncle Jack had sure gotten a laugh out of it, saying that her morbid side was showing. Those words haunted her and refused to leave her alone.

                   Star light, star bright,
                    Mothers watch your children tonight.
                    A tumble here, a tumble there,
                    There are Bumbles everywhere.
                    A slip and a knock on wood,
                    The Dark Man in a hood.

The day after she had written it, Benny Chase had gone missing. A day later, people were whispering, giving her sidelong glances while she waited in the line at the grocery store. Asha had shrugged off her growing uneasiness and tried to go about her day normally, but as each day passed without Benny’s safe return, it grew harder to ignore the whispers.

The whispers had grown to a dull roar last night when Benny Chase’s parents had come to her door, wanting to know what she knew, how she knew. But she didn’t know anything. The words had risen from the page, from a deep well within herself, but their origin came from behind a veil that she hadn’t known was there, much less see through.

She hadn’t believed it at first of course. Who would? People read their horoscope for diversion, for fun, and maybe some took it serious, but none of it was real. Of course, none of it was real.

Then why was she so scared?

Asha paused at an intersection before the town square. Traffic was light; the lull between the noon hour and five o’clock cast nearly an idyllic aura about the town. Mothers pushed strollers through the town square as old men squabbled with each other over chessboards. Children swarmed around an ice cream vendor, fingers clutching their hard-earned dollars, faces tight with anticipation. Dappled sunlight filtered through the elm trees shading those on the square as Asha watched a pair of college students toss a Frisbee back and forth. It was meant to calm and welcome, but Asha felt anything but calm, anything but welcome.

Asha looked down at the card in her hand. The print was unassuming, looking more like a business card for an estate lawyer than a self-named psychic. A name adorned the front of the card, with an address printed underneath it:

Nadine Seaborne
37 Higgins Street

On the reverse side, a message was scrawled in neat, flowing script: I can help. Ring the bell three times.

Nadine must have slid it under the door of her apartment sometime during the night, where Asha had found it that morning. She had stood over it, staring at the small white rectangle shimmering against her wood floor, transfixed, forgetting the coffee mug in her hand until the scalding liquid sloshed over the rim.

She knew very well who Nadine Seaborne was—everyone in town did—knew about her shop on Higgins Street, and about the rumors that swirled around town about her, but Asha couldn’t honestly say that she had ever met the woman. But Nadine Seaborne obviously knew her, knew where she lived, and knew, apparently, what was happening to her.

She had almost thrown the card away, had, in fact, stood over the garbage can with every intent of doing just that when something stopped her; curiosity maybe, or desperation. Rather than throw it away, she stared at it for a moment longer before tucking it into a pocket of her ragged jeans.

Now she stood in the town’s center, unsure of what she was doing and wondering if she had completely lost her mind.

As Asha stood on the corner, embroiled in her own indecision, she was suddenly overcome by the feeling that she was being watched, observed. She pulled her hair out of her face, her eyes darting across the square like a pinball bouncing off a bumper. Burchester had always been a welcoming little town, maybe a little close-minded at times, and it had always seemed a bit off to her. Now, however, an aura of hate and resentment bubbled up from the town’s foundations; curling like an insidious graveyard fog around the buildings, the trees, the people. To an outsider, Burchester looked like a semi-prosperous Northwestern town; kept alive by the small private college, Pamter Jefferson, that sat upon a bluff above the town. For Asha, however, the rancid smell of decay was everywhere.

The June sun fled behind dark clouds, casting deep shadows about the town square. A stillness befell the streets as if some perverse god had pushed the town’s pause button. All warmth seeped out of Asha; her breath came in unsteady plumes from between her clenched teeth. Colors bled into a grayscale, but the scene before her had none of the nostalgic appearance of black and white photos.

Asha watched the college students throw their Frisbee; the once-red disc floated between them, almost suspended in the air. The Frisbee continued on its arc, slowly, slower, until it appeared to stop. Oddly, it reminded Asha of the plate spinners on those old variety shows of the 1950s; the audience holding its collective breath, wondering when the first plate would fall. Asha also held her breath, but unlike those audiences of television’s golden years, she had none of their wonder, only fear.

Fear crawled over her, around her, through her. It wound its way through every fiber and blood cell. She couldn’t quite grasp what was happening, or, more importantly, why.

On the opposite side of the square, almost directly across from her, Asha thought she saw a flicker, movement. Shadows seemed to coalesce and gain substance. It had no discernable form that Asha could put a name to, but it didn’t take a genius to realize that it wasn’t benign.

As she continued to watch, stare, the shadow grew. Larger and darker, it soon towered over the square and the buildings surrounding it. Thick shadowy ropes snaked out from the main mass, weaving in and among the town’s denizens. The shadow spread out, wrapping around some people, boring its way through others, and just brushing an arm or leg of a few, but all were touched in some way. Asha alone remained unscathed.

But even as she watched, stared, the shadow advanced. No longer a flicker out of the corner of her eye, the shadow encapsulated all of Burchester. Air seized in Asha’s chest as her lungs felt like two pieces of rough sandpaper rubbing against each other.

Panic—an emotion she was unfamiliar with—seized her, clutching at her with frantic fingers. She had been nervous and anxiety ridden at times when growing up, especially after her parents had died, but she had always managed to hold herself together. Growing up without her parents had forced her to know how to handle whatever the universe decided to throw at her, but this, this was like the universe had been flipped inside out and dipped in LSD.

She wanted to move, to run away, but her body refused to listen to her brain’s commands. More and more of the town fell to the shadow until it was all around her, closing in. Such loathing and hate emanated from the shadow that Asha wanted to curl up into a fetal position, to crawl to some hidden corner and rock herself.

A white hand reached through the shadow and gripped her arm firmly. Asha felt the world spin as everything tilted back to normalcy. Color and sound flooded back into reality. Asha gasped, feeling as if something had sucked all the breath out of her. She clutched the hand holding her arm, fearing that if it let go she would be drawn back into, into whatever she had been in.

“Alright sweetie, come with me now.”

Asha let herself be pulled along, too weak to resist. She felt so cold, colder than she had ever been.

Asha had the vague feeling of being taken inside and led through a room. Gentle hands pushed her into a soft chair and then wrapped an afghan around her shoulders. In the ensuing stillness, Asha thought she heard soft, piping flutes mixed with lilting violins.

“Here, honey, drink.”

Asha raised her head, a mug of steaming liquid seemingly hovering before her. Accepting the mug with trembling hands, Asha brought it to her lips. Chamomile, lavender, and honey spilled down her throat, calming her frayed nerves and warming her body and spirit. Inhaling the calming aromas, Asha tipped back in time to another room, another chair where she had been comforted. The room had been much brighter than this one, almost sterile with the fluorescent panels flickering above her, and the chair had been an unforgiving plastic, but the kindness and the cup of warmth were similar.

People had buzzed around her then, seeming so large and important, their conversations muted and respectful. She remembered the tight black patent leather shoes she had been forced to wear and remembered wanting to kick them off and throw them at something, anything. The emotions of that long ago day flooded her mind, and she wondered, briefly, how she could have forgotten them.

That had been the day of her parents’ funeral.

As she continued to sip, the foggy haze shrouding her mind lifted and a sense of calm entered her being, and she was slowly able to take in her new surroundings. Soft, warm light lit the small office, lending the room an inviting, cozy feel. A walnut desk graced one corner, its surface covered with a computer, some loose stones and rocks, and what suspiciously looked like a crystal ball. On the window sill, several pots of flowers—sweet basil, white heather, red clover, and eucalyptus—brought in some of the outdoors inside.

Asha was sitting in one of two mismatched armchairs that flanked a round side table that was carved with flowing spirals. Fat, squat candles flickered a golden warmth, their light reflecting off the cut glass holders. A thirty-something woman occupied the armchair across from Asha. She wore an ankle length lawn green skirt and layered tank tops. Silver bracelets banded both of her wrists, jangling musically against each other. Tribal tattoos in blue and black ink snaked around her biceps in swirling loops while her honey colored hair was pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail with several corkscrews springing free of their prison.

“I thought that you’d be older,” Asha murmured almost to herself.

A wide smile spread across Nadine’s freckled face, her eyes twinkling with a barely suppressed mirth.

“I find life much more interesting when you’re not what people expect you to be.”

“That’s funny. I’ve always thought life would be easier if you were what people expected you to be.”

“And you’ve always been different from others. You believe that being different is somehow wrong and you would give anything to, just once, fit in.”

Asha’s fingers tightened around her mug of tea. Her shoulders hunched defensively as she stared at Nadine and she recalled how she came to be in Nadine’s office.

“What,“ Asha paused and swallowed heavily, “what just happened to me?”

“That, my dear, is an answer many have searched for over the years. The short answer is that you crossed a breach between this world and another.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yes, I know, it sounds silly, ridiculous even, but nevertheless, that is basically I believed happened.”

“You saw it too?”

“No, I can’t break through as you apparently can, but I can sense where there is one and I was able to pull you out. My talents, well, they lie elsewhere.”

“This is insane.”

“Oh, we haven’t even begun to enter the realm of insanity yet, my dear.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Instead of answering her immediately, Nadine sat forward and placed her braceleted forearms across her knees. She seemed to be struggling with something, but as to what, Asha could only guess. Placing her mug on the side table, Asha also leaned forward and stared at Nadine earnestly.

“Please, tell me what is going on.”

“You’ve lived in Burchester all your life, yes?”

“What? Yes, except for college. What does that have to do-?”

“And for that four year period, you lived in Boston, right?”

“Well, that’s where Boston University is. I don’t understand what this has to do with-.”

“Why didn’t you go to Pamter Jefferson?”

“Because I wanted to experience something outside of this miserable little town, because I didn't want to go to some snotty private school, because I wanted to get away. Boston was as far as I could get without leaving the country.”

“Most would say that Burchester is a lovely place to live. The American Dream and all that.”

“Most people would be wrong.”

Nadine sat back, “Why would you say that?”

Asha blinked, unsure how to answer. She didn’t know how to say it any plainer than that. If there were one thing that she could pin down on why she never felt comfortable in Burchester, she would tell Nadine. It was just a gut feeling, instinctual.

But it was more than that at the same time.

“You feel the vibrations that throb underneath the pulse of this town. I can feel them too. What did you see when you crossed the breach?”

“This is ridiculous. I don’t feel any vibrations, I--.”

“What did you see, Asha?”

The urgency in Nadine’s voice broke through Asha’s disbelief and hesitancy. Too filled with nervous energy to remain sitting, she stood up and attempted to pace, only to be impeded by the walls of the small room. Japanese calligraphy prints proclaiming PEACE and HARMONY instilled the opposite emotions in Asha. Her breath hissed through her teeth as she turned around and ended up returning to her chair.

“Shadow. I saw a shadow. It covered everything, touched, everything, and everyone.”

“Did it touch you?”

Asha paused, hearing the urgency woven into Nadine’s words, and weighed her own carefully before speaking.

“No. It didn’t. Why is that?”

“The shadow you saw, it represents something that all of us can feel. Life is about balance; balance between the elements, balance between light and dark. The shadow is something in-between balance, neither light nor dark. You could say that it is an equalizer of sorts, but that is simplifying matters too much.”

“Why did it feel so, so, evil, if it’s an equalizer?”

“Another way to put it is that it works as a free agent. It will work for whoever needs it most.”

“I can’t believe that evil needs help.”

“It’s not so much about needing help, Asha. It’s more about maintaining balance. Without balance-.”

“What in the hell do you think you are doing?”

Both women’s eyes shot toward the open doorway. Cobalt eyes pierced from under dark, furrowed brows; the hands braced against the doorframe were stained with black ink, and a faint odor of ozone emanated from the scowling man.

“Uncle Jack-.”

“I wasn’t talking to you Asha. Nadine, you promised.”

“Events have occurred that negate the conditions of my promise, Jackson.”

“I don’t care if the Holy Mother arrived carrying the cure for the common cold and stupidity. You promised.”

“Must everything always be so black and white with you, Jackson?”

“Stop! Stop it! Somebody is going to tell me what is going on, and they are going to do it now.” Asha glared at the other two occupants of the small room, who were in turn, glaring at each other. She felt like the poor geeky kids in high school who were always left out of the loop and the butt of everyone’s jokes.

“Well?”

“This has nothing to do with you Asha.”

“On the contrary, it has everything to do with her.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Oh Jackson, don’t you realize that you don’t have a choice in this matter. Neither do I. None of us do.”

Asha closed her eyes and slowly counted to ten. After she was done, she counted to ten again. She vowed she wouldn’t lose her temper, but the problem was that she had never been particularly good at keeping that promise to herself.

Upon opening her eyes, the world narrowed and rushed toward her. Asha found her breath trapped, frozen in her lungs and clawed at her throat as if something were throttling her. Her nails scratched at the invisible assailant as her body flung backwards against a bookcase. Chaucer, Milton, and Shakespeare rained down over her, pummeling her body with their written words and their hardbound covers.

Darkness caved in around her and tiny firefly lights sparkled at the edge of her vision. White-gold hands fumbled around her, pulling at the darkness smothering her, but they weren’t strong enough.

No longer shadow, but darkness, it was too strong.

Asha’s legs kicked out, her flip-flops flinging across the room, landing harmlessly under Nadine’s desk. Her bare feet pounded against the wood floor, slipping, then catching on the uneven surface. The heavy stench of fear permeated the room, feeding the darkness, making it stronger.

Tiny pinpoints of light pierced the dark veil covering Asha’s eyes, flashing brightly, almost mockingly at her. She could no longer see the room around her or the white-gold hands, but she could feel them. Touch was the only sense left to her, as her ears were clogged with the roaring sound of her own blood trying desperately to oxygenate her deprived cells. Smell had disappeared with her ability to inhale and exhale. The darkness was taking over.

“So this is how it ends,” she thought. “Not with a bang, but a whimper.” TS Eliot was right after all.

No, that can’t be right. No stuffy American born, turned pretentious Englishman know-it-all was going to tell her how her life would end.

Asha reared back and hurled herself forward. The sudden surge of strength multiplied upon itself and loosened the talon grip around her throat. A flood of untainted air spilled into her lungs, sopping up the panic and fear threading through her cells.

She opened her eyes again, this time able to see beyond the veil to what lay beyond.

Light and dark and all the colors in-between swirled and flowed around her. Edges sharpened, the picture focused, and suddenly she could see everything that was, is, and could be. Now she could see, now she understood. The shadow wasn’t to be feared, it was as Nadine had said. What lay behind the shadow, now that was another matter entirely.

As her breathing became regular and even, her Technicolor view of the world faded back to normalcy, but now Asha knew what lurked around the corner, behind the shadow.

Nadine and Jack gradually came into focus as Asha began to shiver despite the sheen of sweat painting her body. Their breaths each came in stridorous tones, as if they had also been attacked by an invisible force. Jack’s pupils were nearly black and Nadine’s normally calm façade was pinched.

“I’m okay, I think I’m okay,” Asha croaked from strained vocal cords. “But I think that we are all in big trouble.”

“What do you mean, Asha?”

“That shadow you were talking about, the one that it supposed to maintain the balance and all that, it’s not in control anymore.”
Nadine’s knuckles blanched white as she leaned closer, her collarbones stretching her skin taut.

“You saw it? You saw behind the shadow?”

“If that’s what you’re calling it, then sure, I saw behind the shadow, and it’s not pretty,” Asha paused. “You don’t sound very surprised.”

“It’s disappointing, but no, I’m not surprised. I expected that something like this would happen eventually. Nothing lasts forever.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means nothing Asha. I’m getting you out of here and taking you home.”

“You can’t protect her forever, Jackson. What happened here today proves that.”

“Today proves nothing. I won’t let anything happen, not again.”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here. Both of you obviously have something I need to know. I’m not a child anymore, Uncle Jack. I have a right to know what you know.”

Jack bolted upright, frustration outlining every muscle in his body. He attempted to pace the room as Asha had earlier, but ran into the same walls she had.

“You can’t run away from this Jackson, not again.”

“I realize that, but I don’t have to be happy about it.”

“So, I take it that you two know each other. How?”

Nadine glanced at Jack, who shook his head with a disgusted sigh before slumping against a wall. Shaking her head, either in disgust or in resignment, Nadine turned to Asha.

“Your mother and father, your uncle Jack and I, we’ve all known each other for a long time; before you were born even.”

Asha’s brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. You weren’t around when I was growing up. In fact, this is the first time I have ever met you. Now that I think about it, that’s really strange; this town isn’t that big.”

Nadine sighed heavily. “I promised your uncle that I would have nothing to do with you after your parents’ death. Their death was tragic, but it wasn’t accidental. Your parents’ accident, it wasn’t a car accident.”

“What? Of course it was. Uncle Jack told me...” Asha trailed off, her eyes darting toward Jack. Jack shifted uncomfortably at his post next to the wall. “What haven’t you told me?”

“It was for your own protection, Asha. What happened to your parents--.”

“Apparently I don’t know what happened to my parents. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“Asha, haven’t you wondered why you came back to Burchester after graduating from college? Didn’t you wonder why you didn’t plant yourself elsewhere? You came back because you were drawn back, drawn back by what attacked you here today, by what your parents fought against.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are certain places on this planet where the veil between this world and the other is thinner, is more easily breached. Burchester is one of those places. These places must be guarded, watched, else what lies on the other side crosses over. Some people, like yourself, like your parents, are highly sensitive to these, bordertowns, for lack of a better word. You, your parents, and even your uncle here—even though he would like to deny it—are drawn in to these places and stand watch, waiting for times like these when the veil weakens even more. Your parents were here when the last breach occurred. They were able to stop it and contain it, but it cost them their lives.”

Asha’s eyes slid closed as she rested her head back against the bookcase. Everything Nadine said sounded insane, but, somehow, it wasn’t. It all made a peculiar kind of sense. She had never felt comfortable in her skin here in Burchester. The only time of relative peace she had known was during college, but she had returned. Asha couldn’t even remember why she had returned to Burchester; it had just happened, almost without her realizing it.

“So what does this mean? What is happening to me?”

“Nothing about you has changed, Asha; you’re essentially the same person, it is the world around you that has changed. Just like some people have a strong sense of smell or a keen ability for mathematics, this is your gift.”

“More like her curse.”

“That is how you would see it Jackson, but I choose to see it in another way. You’ve always felt trapped by your gift; don’t you think I didn’t know that? You let what happened to Zöe and Fletcher dictate everything involving the gift. Now Asha is caught up in the tide, and you haven’t left her even something to grasp onto, much less a compass.”

“I did it to protect her.”

“Bullshit. You did it to protect yourself.”

A traitorous snort escaped past Asha’s guard, causing both Nadine and Jack to glare at her. Fixing what she hoped was a suitably somber expression on her face, she shoved herself up from the floor and faced them. It was strange how calm she felt. A strange sort of peace filled her being as she realized that she wasn’t afraid anymore.

“So, what do I do now?”

“You’re not alone, Asha. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Whatever crossed over attacked only me. It didn’t touch you or Nadine. It’s me that it wants.”

“But-.”

“I love you for trying to protect me, but it’s time you let me grow up, Uncle Jack. This is something that I have to do myself; no one else can do it for me.”

“She’s right, Jackson. You know she is.”

Jack tunneled his fingers through his hair as his heavy sigh seemed to deflate him. When he raised his eyes to the two women standing opposite him, they were filled with a sad resignation.

“I know she is. I just don’t think that I can loose another family member to this blasted town, to the blasted breach.”

Nadine placed a hand lightly on his upper arm, her eyes soft with sorrow. “Neither do I, Jack, neither do I, but history is not necessarily fated to repeat itself. You would do well to remember that.”

Jack stared at her slim hand before raising his eyes to Nadine’s and placing his own hand over hers. Asha watched them, fascinated. It wasn’t so much as a spark that flashed between her uncle and Nadine, as it was pure energy. Tucking that bit of information aside for later, she stepped forward and took one of their hands in each of hers. She wasn’t sure why she did it, but the action seemed right—like she was completing a circle.

Looking down at their linked fingers, Nadine’s lips twisted into a wry smile, but her eyes hinted at a vague sadness. “It seems that, in some ways, history does repeat itself. Jack and I will do everything we can to support you, Asha, but ultimately-.”

“Yes, I know. I am on my own.”

*~~*~~*

Hours later Asha watched the sun setting over the Pacific. From her second-story apartment she had a lovely view of Cerdwin Bay. Violent pinks, oranges, and reds bled into the dusky sky, and wispy cirrus clouds lay strewn about like carcasses from some distant and ancient war. The day’s wind had calmed, retreated to the four corners; leaving the town silent and still.

Although the evening was pleasant, few people were strolling Burchester’s streets. The few that Asha could see scurried by storefronts, not stopping to window shop. School had let out about a week ago, but no children played on the town square or road their skateboards in the street. Doors and windows were shut firmly against the outside as yellow light spilled out from the inside, painting dim squares of light on the ground.

“They can feel it too,” Asha murmured to herself. “Everyone can feel that something is off, out of sync.”

Asha continued to watch over the town as the blistered sun submerged into the horizon, bleeding its light and warmth into the water. Shivering, Asha was about the step away from the window when a sudden flicker of movement stopped her and pulled her back to the window. Her eyes strained through the darkness, trying to pierce the night in search of whatever had caught her attention. Nothing.

She almost thought that she had imagined it when she saw another flicker-flutter darting through the town square. More than just a wisp of a phantom, it had a barely discernable shape, but it nonetheless held Asha’s attention. Leaning her nose against the windowpane, she watched the shape hop-skip through the square, first next to the fountain, then across the square next to the children’s playground. The starless night prevented her from identifying whatever was flittering through the town square, but there was a sense of familiarity about it.

The phantom suddenly stopped its herky-jerky dance through the town square, pausing in a white pool of light at the edge of the square, facing Asha. Her breath frosted before her, coating the windowpane with spider webs of ice, obscuring her vision. Asha wiped the frost away with her palm, the moisture clinging to her skin. The phantom still stood on the street below her apartment, but now it was fully formed, fully recognizable.

Benny Chase raised his small hand and waved before spinning around and scampering back into the square.

Asha was across her apartment and out the door, scrambling down the narrow stairs of her building before she stopped to think about what she was doing. Her bare feet slapped against the sidewalk as her eyes focused on the spot where she had last seen Benny. She fully recognized the foolishness of her actions, going out into the night after a phantom of a boy, but knowing her actions were unwise didn’t stop her from crossing the street and entering the square.

Passing by barren benches and silent swings, Asha searched the square for any hint of the boy who had waved at her. She hesitated to call out his name, feeling that would cross the line of foolishness into pure stupidity. Instead, she silently willed him to appear, even though she didn’t have the foggiest idea of what she would do once she found him. It should have been easy to find him, the square wasn’t that large, but it was like he had vanished, swallowed up by the still and silent night.

A tinkling of giggles erupted into the night, making Asha stop and listen for another sign from the lost boy. The ground was warm beneath her feet as the grass tickled her ankles. Asha took strength from the solid earth beneath her, letting it bolster her courage and calm her mind. Every sound was amplified, every shadow sharpened. Her skin tingled as she stood in the middle of the square, breathing lightly through her nose. She had never realized it before, but Burchester seemingly disappeared when one stood in the middle of the square. Tall, thick maples and fat silky dogwood bushes obscured the town from her sight except for the tops of the buildings surrounding the square.

Air whooshed by her, tugging at her hair and whispering in her ears. A child’s giggle echoed in the space around her, but nowhere could she find its source. Asha forced herself to stand still even as the child’s giggle changed. Its tone grew harsher, no longer tinkling, but mocking.

Wind whipped around her, slicing at her skin, but not a blade of grass around her quivered. Asha felt herself being pulled, drawn from the world she knew to the other that lay on the other side of the breach. She dug her toes into the soil beneath her, anchoring herself in this world. The unseen force clawed at her skin, searching for purchase, but Asha visualized herself as a pool of water, seemingly containable, portable, but elusive and uncountable.

Rage, cold rather than hot, howled its frustration into the night sky. Asha’s skin stretched; she could feel the escaped phantom bucking around her, twisting and clawing at and around her. Closing her eyes, Asha dug deep into herself, willing herself to feel the rent between worlds. Feeling instinctively, she reached out, fingering the fabric of the veil she now knew shrouded the town and her life. She wasn’t sure how she knew what to do, but something more than instinct guided her. Asha could feel and see the path taken by all those who had gone before her, their mistakes channeling her toward the correct path.

Fire lit up her arm as she found the breach, but she held on. Jagged tears ripped through the veil and she could feel the claw marks of the phantom that had torn its way through. Asha steeled herself against the oncoming assault she expected, but none came.

Wind stilled, claws retracted, and rage faded. With one hand still on the breach, Asha opened her eyes. Before her stood a tall, wraith-like creature, a dark hood pulled down over its head. It sucked all light into itself, all hope. Oily blackness boiled over it as it stood before her, waiting.

“You do not belong here.”

Silence emitted from the creature, but Asha could feel its unseen eyes scorching her. This same creature had attacked her in Nadine’s office, she was sure of it. The same cold rage boiled from it as tiny dark wisps of hate threaded into the fabric of this world.

“You do not belong here,” she repeated, firming her stance.

“Thissss world, is mine. These soulssss, are mine.”

“You can’t have them.”

“You think you can ssstop me, Little Girl? Poor Little Orphan Girl with no parentssss to care for her. Ssso alone, ssso afraid.”

Saliva pooled in Asha’s throat. She could feel her grasp on the breach slipping, fumbling through her suddenly thick fingers.

“Your parentsss’ ssoulss are mine, thisss boy’sss sssoul is mine. Sssoon yoursss will be mine.”

Her jaw tightening, Asha drew upon a well of strength she suddenly found within herself. As she reached in, she realized that the well came not only from within her, but from around her as well. Her fingers lost their thickness, and the paralyzing web that had lain over her dissolved, evaporating under the strength of the fellowship she felt around her.

“I am not alone. This is where you end.”

Light infused Asha’s body. Her pale skin made translucent by the power the flowed out from within her. The creature howled as the light struck its surface, it’s skeletal frame twisting and writhing as it tried to escape, but the light filled the town square, touching every surface, leaving nowhere for it to hide. Sinuous tendrils of inky blackness rose from the creature as it evaporated before Asha. It’s grasping claws tried to clamp onto Asha’s feet, but it could not touch her.

As the creature slowly dissolved before Asha, tiny orbs of blue-green light escaped from its hold. Suddenly free, they swirled around Asha, joining the light that fought against the creature. Love washed over Asha’s soul, and she felt something she hadn’t felt in years: peace. A smile lit upon her lips as she felt the breach knitting together under her fingers, the blue-green orbs filling the gaps.

“This is how you end, Dark Man, not with a bang, but a whimper. My soul belongs to me.”