All Hallows' Moon (27 page)

“It wasn’t thunder,” I whispered. “It’s the wrong time of year.” A series of disinterested shrugs spread through the group.

Outside the window, I expected to see the animal close up, its warm breath misting the window and its rider in shock but there was nothing – just a shifting of the mist, through which I was sure I could see the shimmering glint of metal armour.

“Mina…Mina...Earth calling Mina! What do you fancy – blood and gore, or something more romantic?” Daisy pulled me to attention, snapping me out of the bizarre hallucination.

“What?” I asked, having no idea where we were in the conversation.

“Film. Friday. Romance or gore?”

Without taking my eyes from the window, I responded robotically, “Gore, definitely - no contest.”

I turned to look at her briefly before returning my gaze to the window.

“Really, do we have to?” Sara chimed in. “I hate all that stalking-killer stuff. It always freaks me out so I can’t sleep. What about the new Anniston film, you know, the one about some love triangle?”

Sara, true to form, flicked her expensively highlighted hair as if somehow this might seal the deal. It was clearly a move that got Matt to agree to anything she wanted. The very thought of seeing a film about love triangles made
me
want to freak!

“Mina?”

“Really, I don’t mind - I’ll go along with everyone else.” I said, already thinking up the excuse of a coursework deadline.

By the time the lunch bell went, I’d decided to bail on the afternoon in an attempt to avoid any more weird aftershocks from the Blakequake. Feeling slightly pathetic about it, I convinced myself that Blake wasn’t the only reason I had a headache. I couldn’t get the sound of the horse’s galloping hooves out of my head, to the point that they were making me slightly demented. Only now, the sound seemed to have altered ever so slightly, so that it sounded more like the beating of somebody else’s heart nestling along side my own.

*

I didn’t tell Sam I was leaving early because he’d have worried and fussed. He’d also have insisted on giving me a ride home, when really, I wanted to try and walk off the fever that seemed to be burning.

I wasn’t long into town when I began to regret the really foolish decision to walk. The dry-ice day had grown thick and heavy with sleet, and because I’d had a lift with Sam in the morning, I was completely underdressed. Violent shivers wracked my body and caused my teeth to chatter, just like in the cartoons. The image made me laugh aloud to myself, adding to my general sense of lunacy.

Weighing up the very real possibility of freezing to death before I made it home, I turned towards the bookshop. Its warm yellow lights and offerings of thick, velvety hot chocolate suddenly seemed like a gift from the heavens. I stood, balancing the lure of the bookshop with the desire to get back to my room and hide away. As if forcing my decision, the sky suddenly opened up and released large pellets of hard hale. The ice hit my skin with the force of miniature bullets, giving me no other option than to take cover in the safety of the bookshop.

Within minutes of sitting down, hot chocolate warming my frozen hands, the bell above the shop door went. Bent over, and fleeing the miserable weather outside, Blake entered, obviously having skipped the afternoon lesson with Mr Dwell as well.

He stopped at the door, wiped his feet and shook out the snow from his dark curls before pulling himself up to his full six foot height. With one hand he undid his coat and with the other, he removed his iPod buds and loosened his scarf. I found my attention caught by it. It wasn’t the usual woollen number but looked bizarrely more like the remains of an old flag. He wrapped it around the handle of his leather satchel, whilst simultaneously recovering his glasses case from the belly of the bag.

Unlike me, he was dressed for the cold weather, wearing a simple but obviously expensive pair of jeans and a thick black jumper beneath his thigh length woollen coat. His clothes gave the impression of subtle wealth. Although nothing flash, it was obvious they were serious quality and I guessed they were designer. Sleet still hung to the fine, soft wool of his navy coat, almost as if someone had threaded diamonds into the weave. I noted how, even at this time of the year, he had a slight tan. It was the kind of tan burnt in by wind and activity and I guessed he spent a lot of time outdoors.

An elderly man who had just completed his purchases, made his way to the door. Without hesitation, Blake turned to the door, opened it and made a comment about the weather before sharing a laugh, and putting out a guiding hand to assist the man over the icy step. I wasn’t the only one to notice this sweet display of manners, and Blake flashed a smile in response to something the pretty sales assistant said. I found myself thinking, ‘
So not only is he drop dead gorgeous but he’s a sweetheart too – great.’

By the time he got to the bookshelf, he’d put on his glasses and dumped his bag and coat. He didn’t spend long looking, finding whatever it was almost instinctively. His hands moved deftly along the book spines, and I caught myself thinking of how his hands would feel running themselves over my thighs. The delicious thought of this made me blush and the sudden rush of blood to my cold cheeks caused a strange prickling of my skin.

I watched him pull out several versions of the same text;
Tennyson’s Collected Works.
He settled on the one with the image of Waterhouse’s ‘Lady of Shalott’ on its cover. His finger traced the outline of her face and he offered a wry smile, as if smiling at some private joke. Suddenly aware that he was being watched, he tensed and removed his glasses, as if getting ready to defend himself. He spun round in one swift movement as if expecting to find an enemy at his back. I tried to look casual, despite my pounding heart, my blushing cheeks and quickening breath. I tried to behave as if somehow, I hadn’t noticed him and his being here, and that this sudden recognition was as much of a surprise to me, as it was to him.

He blushed, aware that his response had possibly been a little over dramatic. Recognising me, he smiled and said, “Hello, it’s Mina, isn’t it?”

“Yes, hi!” I cringed inside as my voice came out in a strange, almost strangulated squeak.

He walked over to me, his smile changing to a look of concern. “Are you alright? You’re shaking.”

I blushed as I imagined the state I looked, red and blotchy from the cold.

“I forgot my coat,” I said, as my heart hammered in my chest. “I hadn’t planned on walking.”

He made a grab for his coat and handed it to me. “Here, you can borrow mine. I’ve got the car with me.”

I was about to protest, but before I could he’d already dropped the coat in my lap. It weighed a tonne. The lining was blood red.

“You can’t lend me your coat, you barely know me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you can give it back to me in class tomorrow. I don’t think you’ll skip the country with it.”

“Talking of class, why aren’t you there now?” I asked.

“Well, I could ask you the same question.” He smiled. “I guess we’ve caught each other out.”

“I guess so.” I found myself blushing like an idiot and with a smile that almost hurt.

“Well, I’d better get going,” he said tapping the book. “I’ve got a lot to catch up on by the looks of it. Nice to meet you again, Miss Singer. I look forward to seeing my coat tomorrow.”

With that, he headed towards the counter to pay. In his place lingered the smell of wildflower meadows and the warm smell of sun kissed barley fields. I couldn’t understand what it was about him that caused my heart to skip. It wasn’t just that he was handsome but there was something about him that was completely different, and at the same time, completely familiar. It was as I was thinking on this, lost in my own world of thoughts, that Blake’s voice startled me and caused a near hot chocolate, coat disaster.

“Sorry to make you jump, it’s just that it’s really started to snow. Would you like me to drive you home?”

His question was offered innocently, but I couldn’t be sure that my answer would be offered in the same way. There was something about myself which I couldn’t quite trust. So although the thought of a warm car was tempting, I knew if I accepted, my betrayal of Sam would have started.

“No really, No it’s fine. I’ve…I’ve…” I stammered, trying to think of a reason that might sound slightly believable. I changed track and rather overly enthusiastically blurted out, “It’s snowing. That’s great! I LOVE snow! All that…white flaky stuff. Brilliant!”

Blake raised an amused eyebrow and smiled, “As you wish my lady, see you tomorrow.”

As he left, I could hear him amusedly muttering to himself, “
White flaky stuff. Brilliant!”

I sat there no longer cold. The fire of total humiliation had warmed me up a treat.

The Forest of Adventures

Available now!

Excerpt from

Skeleton Lake

by Angela Kulig

My mouth was no longer the worst of it. Dryness tore further at my cracked lips with every haggard
puff puff
, with every jagged breath I forced out of it. But now, that feeling seemed to travel from the ends of my dark tangled hair, to the tips of my snow covered bare feet. I ran without direction, without a goal. I liked the feeling of the escape. I like pretending I could.

Deep foot prints and tiny droplets of red ruined the winter landscape behind me as I darted past the tree line. Terrible blotches that looked black in the moonless night were all that was left of the tops of my hands. I had unconsciously torn away at the flesh with my own finger nails. I imagined what those bones would look like, peeking through the bloody mass of my clenched fists. I didn't dare look.

My heart continued to beat, even though I knew it had already given up. Broken, but not silenced, it seemed determined to win a race against the pounding of my steps. Sometimes one rhythm would play ahead, but the other would be right behind. There would never be a winner, neither of them would cease before the other and my weary legs refused to give out until I was wherever they needed me to go.

That was when I saw it, practically glowing with the reflection of a million different universes. It was a large still mass, yet everything seemed to move around it. Tendrils of steam rose from all the edges and danced across the top of the lake. I couldn't remember hearing of anything like it.

I found myself wondering what it would be like to drown. Did it hurt? How would it feel floating there, weightless, until my very life drained away?

Sprinting down a decaying wooden dock, I did not look back. Boards creaked below my weight, pieces splintered off landing in the water with a plink that sounded like hailstones that sent ripples shooting out with me.

I remember the sounds. I remember the smell of the age old gray timber being torn from rusted nails, but I still can't remember the splash.

Drowning was nothing like I thought it would be. To start, it was slow. Time seemed to stretch out forever, as did the lake, but it didn't hurt. Not really. The water was warm and pleasant given what I had just run through. My wounds felt soothed by the murky waters. Even as the liquid swirled into my ears I could imagine I was at home in a bath and not floating toward my oblivion.

I never closed my eyes. My vision blurred then somehow focused two places at once. Part of me was staring at the late eighties wall paper in the bathroom my father refused to change. The other part of me was completely aware of the lake I was in, and the sky above me.

From here, the stars were nearly impossible to see. Blackness stretched out over my head like an old sheet, letting in just a little light through its worn places as I coasted near slumber beneath it.

There was still more darkness below, where I knew the muddy bottom waited to welcome me permanently into its grasp.

Even though I floated, I felt weighted down with so many things—Mom and Dad alone in the old farmhouse unaware that anything was wrong, all the friends I had until tonight, and a handful of other people’s secrets.

Then there was light. Not a warm white light like everyone talks about, but a ghostly blue one. I wondered what its presence meant for my afterlife, if there was such a thing. That was my last thought before the panic set in.

Everything until that point had seemed so numb. Like my own inner auto pilot had plotted this end. Had I ever stopped to think? No, because until now there had seemed no need for it. There had only been the need to escape. The consequences now were much worse than the grounding that I would have received when daddy found out I snuck out. Where was my good judgment when I set out on foot tonight? When I'd tossed my heels into the ditch, as if the blisters they caused were my worst blemish? I thought nothing more than they slowed me down.

The blue light was right on top of me. I could tell it was close enough to reach out and grab me, but I was still surprised when it did. It seared my skin with ice cold fingers like instant frostbite on sunburned flesh, a cold and brittle feeling that belonged to a moving skeleton. Was this Death? Did such a specter really exist?