Magnolian

Excerpt

STORY EXCERPT

She found the path only thirty yards from the back of the house. It was shaded and cooler than the open air, and it was only about a yard wide. It felt a bit closed in, but the space was also deliciously secret and small. She shivered a bit as she walked, crunching rocks and underbrush underfoot. Lillian had a strange sense of déjà vu and gasped as she realized it was related to her dream. She laughed aloud nervously. It was just a dream. There were no angry voices or crowds following her as she ran in a filmy night dress. Sunlight glistened on spiderwebs hanging between bushes and small pine trees. Resin filled the air as Lillian went deeper into the woods. She began humming, and then noticed the song she was humming was the one she had heard in her room last night. Shuddering, she clamped her lips shut, determined to walk on. She was about to turn around and head back when she heard a sound that stopped the birds’ singing.

Swing low, sweet chariot—

The sound echoed softly through the trees like the sighing of a tired wind. The loveliness of the voice was undeniable. It was the singing of a nightingale in human form. Though in poetry most nightingales were of the female persuasion, this bird was definitely male. Lillian knew that nightingales who sang were male, too. It was only the poets—especially the Romantics like Shelley, Coleridge and Wordsworth—who wanted to believe they were lovelorn females. The thought would have made her smile any other time, but the song made her spine tingle with fear.

Comin’ for to carry me home...

The sweet sound was also terrifying and relentless. Lillian clapped her hands over her ears. “Stop. Stop. Stop. This isn’t happening.” She tried to think. Perhaps it was a man singing—someone working in the woods, but there was no sign of such a man, and the sound was quite close to her. She walked as quickly as she could through the woods back the way she had come toward Magnolian, afraid she would see a shadow. The singing died off to a hum and then silence as she burst out of the woods, gasping at her fast pace. All she wanted to do was get back to the house away from the singer of that song. It was lovely but not human—at least not anymore.

She rounded the house, running and burst through the front door, glad no one was there to see her. She darted up the steps to her room, shutting and locking her door and collapsing on the bed. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, thinking of Donovan. She had forgotten to call him. She took her cell phone out of her purse—thank goodness for nationwide calling plans—and punched in his number. Disappointment and something like relief spread in her chest when he didn’t answer. After all, she wanted to talk to him, but what would she say? All is well, but I think I heard a ghost in the woods and saw one last night in my room? The idea was ludicrous. She left a quick message telling him she had arrived safely. Then, feeling a little guilty, she shut off her phone. For some strange reason, he felt worlds away. She didn’t want to bring him into all of this. It was her own, just as the man’s song was her own. The thought stopped her as soon as it entered her mind. What a strange idea to have, but she knew the singer was a man, maybe in his twenties, and something terrible had happened to him.

Head pounding, Lillian stretched out under the covers and decided to nap. Maybe it was just jet lag, but she felt lethargic as the sun shone through the curtains, signaling approaching noon. She drifted into a dreamless sleep, waking up to a loud pounding on her door.