Mist
“I’m cold!”
“Sarah.” Janie cast an exasperated
look at her friend. “I told you to be quiet. We will be there soon.”
“Don’t growl at me. You never said
we’d be tromping through the woods in the middle of the damn night.” Sarah shoved
a pine bough out of the way and squealed as it swung back spraying her with
droplets of cold water. It had been a usually warm day for April. But now that
the sun had set, the sudden change in temperature created a layer of mist so
thick it made conspirators of all those who wandered lost within the fog.
“Come on!” Janie grabbed her
friend’s hand. “Erica said I could bring a guest. Don’t make me regret my
choice.”
Sarah made a face at Janie’s back and
trudged along behind her. The heels of her designer shoes aerating the soil as
she walked.
The small group of girls, twelve in
all, walked along the obscure trail that had been worn down by things that
moved on four legs, not two. And certainly not those wearing stilettos.
Small puddles of light ebbed and
flowed as those carrying the lanterns moved through the mist. Off in the
distance an owl hooted. His wings barely disturbed the air as he flew silently
searching for a meal among the detritus of the forest floor. A lone howl drifted
through the hills, high and lonesome, it sent goosebumps down Sarah’s arms. It
had been rumored that a wolf pack had moved into the area. It’s probably just a coyote she thought as the ground changed from
thick soil to hard granite.
“Come on.” Janie materialized out
of the mist like a wraith. Sarah squeaked like a mouse and fell, slipping on
the slick granite, her ankle twisting painfully. She reached forward skinning
her palms on a rocky outcrop. Janie sighed and bent down and removed Sarah’s
expensive leather sandals. “The cave is just ahead.” She pitched the shoes out
into the dark.
Sarah gasped in outrage as splash
told her where the shoes had landed. “The leather is going to be ruined! I am
so bringing this up at the next sorority meeting.” Janie rolled her eyes and
walked away. Casting a longing glace toward the direction of her lost shoe
Sarah heaved a martyred sigh. Her toes were going numb from the cold ground.
Grumbling she followed Janie into the cave that beckoned with the warm glow of
a fire.
The group of girls filed into the
cave. Metal sconces set into the rocks held blazing torches. Wax trailed down
from candle filled niches, their light cast a golden glow. The stone of the
cavern still bore the chisel marks from its creation long ago by the hands of
the first settlers.
Coal Grove Ohio was just down the
hill and like its name the area was littered with coal mines. This had been a
mine once. But judging by how shallow it was, Sarah could see the end, the vein
must have died out, forcing the miners to abandon it. The sweet smell of coal
hung in the air mixing with the incense that was burning in braziers.
Sarah blinked, her vision going
blurry. It reminded her of the time she had gone to one of the frat parties. There
had been a sweet smell then too, but it hadn’t been coal.
Running a hand over her face she
stilled as she sensed a change in the room. “She’s here.” The girls whispered.
Sarah was trying to remember where she was. Her mind moved sluggishly. That
small voice in the back of her head urged her to run, but she couldn’t seem to
care.
She turned to see a woman moving
through the crowd. Instantly, Sarah was captivated by her. Long dark hair
curled gently, falling to her waist. Large almond eyes with irises so deep the
pupils were lost, gazed intently at Sarah. Her diaphanous gown revealed that
she was naked beneath giving subtle hints of alabaster skin. As she walked, the
flames flickered, casting the woman in shadow and then illuminating her in
their turn.
She stopped before Sarah, a
calculating smile curling the edges of her full lips. Strong Fingers grasped
Sarah’s chin turning her head from side to side. “Oh, you are a strong one,”
she said. Her voice held a strange accent that hinted at Greek.
Sarah blinked, unable to look away.
“Strong?” She frowned in confusion.
“Oh yes,” the woman replied. “Very.
I can feel it pulsing within you. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it
yourself.”
“Noticed what?” Sarah asked.
“Do odd things happen around you?”
she asked. “Do you know when the phone is going to ring moments before it does?
Do you… dream?”
Sarah frowned. How did this woman
know? Sarah had moved from Kentucky to Ohio when her mom re-married. Ohio was
such a nice normal place. But deep in the heart of the Kentucky Appalachians,
ghost stories and rumors of the supernatural were not uncommon. In fact, as a
child Sarah was convinced that a young girl would visit her every night.
That girl was named Mary and Sarah
loved her as the sister she never had. Mary was her constant companion through
those long lonely years she spent hiding in her room from her dad who took his
frustration out on her mother. “Your father is home, Sarah.” Her mother would whisper.
“Hide in your room until I come for you. Don’t come out no matter what you
hear.” And she had heard a lot. She and Mary had sat together and listened to
the screaming, the begging and with the dawn, blessed silence.”
One night her father didn’t come
home. Instead there was an officer at the door who said that there had been an
accident. It was the first night Sarah didn’t have to hide in her room.
Years later, while doing some
research on her hometown Sarah found some old newspapers. One story caught her
attention. It told of a young girl named Mary Francis Corday who had lived in
that very house one hundred years before Sarah lived there. That newspaper clip
also told of how Mary had died. The sepia photo of the young girl was the same
child who had visited her every night. So, yes, Sarah knew things. But she was
taught never to discuss them. And she hadn’t, but one look into the woman’s
deep eyes and she confessed everything.
“When did you stop seeing Mary?”
the woman asked.
“The night after my father died, we
left Kentucky,” Sarah said, unable to stop herself. “My mother knocked over my
dad’s moonshine still. ‘Go get in the car, baby,’ she said. Then she threw a
match into the house, climbed into the car and we drove away.”
“Interesting.”
“Who are you?” Sarah asked.
“I have had many names, but you may
call me Erica.” The woman shrugged. “It suits me for the moment.” Something
about that sounded odd to Sarah, but she couldn’t quite figure out why. Erica
smiled and turned away to speak with another girl and Sarah let out a
shuddering breath.
“When I was a little girl, my
mother told me stories,” Erica said. “Some people call them myths and dismiss
them. But the wise know that there is always a kernel of truth in every story
along with a tiny bit of the author’s soul. And for those willing to look,
there is magic.” She moved slowly her steps leaving tiny prints in the fine
dust of the cave’s floor. Her gown floated about her as though it had a will of
its own. The silk hugged her body and then moved away as though it was a
temperamental lover.
The girls who had gathered
whispered of magic and wondered would they see it this night. The moon was
dark, and the air felt pregnant. Full of promise and purpose. Erica moved among
them, whispering ancient words that drew on the spark they each harbored. Fanning
it, coaxing it to life until the torches flicked and then bloomed. Great
fingers of fire reached for the darkness of the cave ceiling.
“My favorite story was of the moon
goddess Selene.” Erica stood in the center of the cave. The girls gathered in a
circle about her. She cast an appraising eye and nodded to Janie. Joining
hands, the girls watched as the woman wove her story.
“Selene, exceeding in beauty
amongst the deathless gods, she drove her chariot each night, whilst her
brother, Helios, drove his during the day. The darkness was her providence and
the shadows obeyed her. Cloaking her as she moved about the land, hiding her
body from the bold eyes of mortals.”
“Once, while dancing with Ocean’s
daughter she beheld a youth of such perfection that her cold heart was touched.
Weeping she begged him to see her, but he only had eyes for the stars.”
“Oh, fair Moon,” he cried. ‘Why
douth thou conceal thyself from me? I seek but to worship thee.”
“Immediately Selene ran to her chariot,
but Zeus stopped her. “Tonight is the dark of the moon, Selene. And well you
know it. The beasts that pull your chariot must rest. Else they will falter.
Such a misstep would be disastrous.” Erica turned to face each girl in turn as
she spoke.”
“But the youth wanted to worship
her, the moon, and Selene would not be dissuaded. Once Zeus left, she took to
her chariot and forced them to the sky. Her brother Helios had already begun
his course. The team of oxen that pulled her across the sky balked at the sight
of the fiery chariot that approached. They stopped as Helios reached his
zenith. The two chariots passed before one another, night warring with day. For
a moment, the fires of day were extinguished, and the land was cast into
darkness. Noon became deepest night. Shrieks rose from the mortals. They cried
to the heavens and implored Zeus to save them from this calamity. In a rage, he
struck Selene and cast her into the Ocean. Zeus commanded Helios to finish his
course. But once he was done, he left his team and went in search of his
sister.”
“He found her sobbing on the beach,
holding the broken body of the youth who had captivated her. The boy had taken
his own life when he saw the moon cast into the sea. Zeus took pity on the
despondent goddess and granted her a boon. He would restore the boy to life but
to a span of no more than one hundred years. Well, you can imagine that such a
finite amount of time would seem but a blink of an eye to an immortal goddess. Selene
begged and pleaded for her lover to live longer.”
Zeus, who tended to be crafty and
cruel agreed to let the boy live. But the span of time would remain the same.
However, only his waking hours would detract from his lifetime. During the
hours he slept, he would not age, nor would death claim him. With a chuckle the
king of the gods allowed Selene to decide how many hours each day he would
wake.”
The girls that were gathered
watched Erica with tears in their eyes, heartbroken over the plight of the
lovers. With a flick of her wrist, the girls broke the circle, allowing Erica
to step farther into the cave. She took a torch, dipped it into the fire and
lit the dry brush. A crown of fire erupted from the grasses. “Many scholars
believe this to be a fine tale indeed. But as I said, to each story there is a
bit of truth. And the author of this story gave a fair more than a kernel of
their soul to craft it.” She stood before a dais, draped in heavy damask
painted with mesmerizing shapes. With a grand gesture she whipped the fabric
away revealing the body of a beautiful man. He appeared dead, cut down in the
prime of his life. Thick lashes lay like crescents upon his sculpted cheeks.
The hard contours of his body cast in harsh relief by the flickering flames.
Sarah moved closer to the man upon
the table. He was so perfect he appeared to be carved from stone by the hand of
a master. She reached for him, but bony fingers encircled her wrist. She tried
to run but couldn’t. Looking up, she met the knowing eyes of Erica.
“In the stories the youth is none
other than the prince Endymion. Known for his beauty and his love of the stars.
Once Zeus retrieved his soul from the Underworld, the prince’s body was laid in
a Latmian Cave. There, each night, in the moments just before dawn and dusk he
would wake, and Selene would rush to him. They would have but seconds to
embrace each other. Selene had a duty to drive her chariot each night. And the
day hours were hostile towards her. For an immortal being who had been
unanswerable to time, she found herself a slave to it.”
Sarah sobbed. She had seen a movie
once where two lovers, always together, but ever apart were tormented with only
a glance of the face of the other at dusk and dawn. She had loved the movie as
a young girl and watched it over and over. Erica chuckled. “Yes girls, not all
stories are make-believe. Behold!” Erica shouted. “The prince Endymion in his
eternal sleep. Join with me this night, and let’s summon his lover, the moon!”
Hurriedly, they rushed to form a
circle once more. Clasping hands in eager anticipation. Erica chanted in a
strange language. The fires grew. Sweat poured down their bodies. The air
pressure changed. Sarah’s ears popped, forcing a cry from her lips. A cool mist
danced around their ankles before forming a column in the center of their
circle.
Sarah gasped as the column of mist
solidified. A pair of midnight eyes blinked at her from the mist. And then
suddenly, where there had been only mist, there was now a woman. Long silver
hair was interwoven with strands of jet that glinted in the fire light. Pale
skin like marble was quickly hidden as the shadows swirled about her, forming a
long robe.
With a grimace the woman pulled the
cowl up, covering her magnificent hair. She sneered when she saw Erica. “I tire
of you.” She growled. Her words filtered through the room in a hundred
different languages. “Be careful, witch. Lest you suffer the same fate you
deal.”
Erica laughed, loud and long. To
Sarah’s ears there was more than a tinge of mockery in it. The silver-haired
woman seemed to think the same thing. Her long elegant fingers curled into
fists.
“A beast may be brought to heal,
but only a fool would think it tame.”
Again, Erica laughed. “I care not
if it is tame, so long as it does as commanded. Kneel Selene and do as you are
told if you wish to gaze upon your lover this night.”
Selene screamed in outrage as her
knees hit the dirt floor. Dutifully, she offered up her wrist. The sleeve of
the shadow cloak slid down, showing the blue veins beneath the surface. Sarah
watched as a glint of steel flashed. A line of crimson appeared along Selene’s
arm. She hissed in pain, her eyes promising death to the woman who dared
command her.
Erica pressed her lips to the
wound, drinking long and deep. The air around her shimmered. Erica’s skin
glowed with the vigor of youth. The few strands of gray among her ebony hair
faded. When she looked up, her lips were stained with the blood of the goddess,
her eyes sparked with power.
Janie handed her a chalice.
Squeezing Selene’s arm, Erica forced a few drops of blood into it. With a nod,
Janie took the chalice; dipping her fingers into the blood she smeared them
across the lips of each girl.
When Janie stepped before Sarah,
she smiled maliciously. “This is the gift I promised you.” And then she coated
Sarah’s trembling lips with blood. The world exploded, driving Sarah to her
knees. Suddenly there were colors that had never been imagined. She could hear
the sounds of the forest below. The scurry of the rodent that was blissfully
unaware of the owl that hunted it. The sighs of the lovers who took their
pleasures in homes and shadows miles away. Insects working tirelessly at their
ancient industry.
Her heart beat so loudly she was
sure all could hear it. And then it slowed, time stalled in its tracks. She
spied Mary standing at the entrance to the cave. Mary beckoned for Sarah to
come out. To leave the cave. Sarah wanted to go to her, but she couldn’t. The
girl gestured urgently, tears of frustration gleamed in her eyes and still
Sarah could not move. With a cry Sarah met the knowing eyes of Erica. The raven-haired
woman shook her head once. When Sarah looked back towards the entrance of the
cave, Mary was gone.
Suddenly Janie was there. “Come on,
you idiot. Selene and Endymion are to have their time. We mortals are not to
interfere. Don’t embarrass me again.” Janie hissed. Sarah was finally able to
rise, wanting to ask when she had embarrassed Janie the first time. But the
words would not form. Numbly she stumbled out into the night. Dawn was not far
off. The promise of day flirted with the horizon, chasing back the spectrum of
night and heralding the return of color.
“Come on.” Janie pulled her along.
“We need to get back to the dorms before we are noticed.”
“No.” Sarah finally found her
voice. “I want my shoes.”
Janie stopped and blinked at her in
amazement. “Fine, go get them.” She huffed. “You can find your own way home.”
Sarah watched as the last girl
faded from sight. Slowly she turned back to the cave. She had to see Endymion.
Was he real? Would he really rise? Would the lovers be reunited for a moment
like they were in the movie?
The cave was cold, the fires
banked, and the dais empty. “Was it real?” She whispered to the dark.
“Yes.” A voice whispered behind
her. A gurgling cry rose as blood filled her lungs. She blinked at the sight of
her heart beating slowly in the hand before her. As she fell to the ground and
death danced for her, Sarah smiled. It had been real.
