ShimmerWitch - Soul Sister

Lark is beyond tired. Her body aches like never before. She looks at her dust covered bare feet then gazes out of the window mesmerized by the first fingers of morning streaking across the dark sky: birds stir, the dawn chorus tunes up. A movement from the drawing room doorway distracts her.

  ‘Lark, what’s going on?’ her sister bursts into the room, but stops short. ‘Why the black cloak?’

Lark hesitates, takes a deep breath then speaks. ‘Something’s happened, Rowan,’ she pushes the air out of her lungs, ‘but you won’t believe me, plus, I can’t remember everything - except I was flying.’ She smiles wryly. Rowan raises a questioning eyebrow. Lark continues, ‘I need to take samples of this stuff on my feet. Can you find something I can use please? Then we’ll go sit by the Aga and I’ll tell you what happened,’ Lark pauses, ‘or what I think happened.’

Job done they walk silently along the dim hallway into the warm kitchen. Lark carries several small glass jars that she pushes into a cupboard. Rowan goes to the Aga, pours two steaming mugs of coffee and slams them down onto the table.

They sit facing each other. ‘This had better be good. I’ve been worried sick.’ Rowan looks daggers at Lark.  ‘Start talking and start from last night after you supposedly went to bed!’

Lark drums her fingers on the table, ‘I’ll try.’

‘Spit it out.’ 

‘I can’t,’ Lark shakes her head. ‘Sorry, Rowan. You’ll need to hypnotise me. Use the crystal.’

Instantly Rowan softens and reaches under her hair to unfasten the rose quartz she wears on a chain around her neck. ‘Concentrate,’ she instructs Lark, slowly swinging the crystal from side to side, ‘focus your mind.’ Rowan waits a few seconds. ‘Think back now. Where are you?’

‘I’m on the house roof. It’s midnight. This roof…’

‘How did you get there?’

‘No idea. I can feel the ridge tiles under my bare feet. I’m cold.’ Effortlessly Lark steps back in time.

Night air kisses her cheeks as she walks in perfect balance along the ridge tiles so she can see more of the sleeping city below. She marvels at the scene then stretches to her full height tilting her head back to stare into the far reaches of space. Her body tingles. I want to be up there. She shudders with excitement. I have to be up there. I have to fly, want to fly, need to fly. 

Adrenaline surges through her body as invisible forces lift her skywards.  Eyes wide, heart pounding, she feels no fear suspended in mid-air looking down at the moonlit world below, but her eyes are drawn back to the sky, to sparkling stars and jewel-like planets and the bright shining moon. Suddenly she’s propelled upwards.

She’s euphoric, screaming fit to burst, ‘I can fly. I can fly!’ but there’s no-one to hear her joyous voice as it’s ripped away by the force of the solar wind pulling at her hair, making her eyes stream. The black cloak she’s found herself wearing doesn’t flap but wraps itself around her in comforting warmth as Planet Earth grows smaller. 

The magical SatNav makes her dizzy whizzing her through the Milky Way then across the moon in true ET style. Flying with her arms pointed forwards she watches frost crystals form on her skin. Instinctively she executes several somersaults then weaves expertly through a cluster of glittering stars laughing as she flies higher. 

Unexpectedly her speed slows, she’s falling. ‘What’s happening?’ she yells into nothingness. The black cloak turns into a parachute as she glides downwards. Fear envelops her.

She’s standing on the cusp of time in a strange, unfamiliar, silent landscape somewhere between day and night. Reason tells her it’s impossible. Yet to her left is black, starless sky, whereas to her right there’s glowing brightness and despite the black sky, thousands of stars are twinkling at her. Lark runs towards the brightness. Soft ground turns stony but she keeps running until something sharp stabs her foot forcing her to stop. Carefully she balances on one leg to inspect her injuries. Someone grabs her shoulders from behind. Terrified, Lark screams.

The pungent aroma of smelling salts pervades Lark’s unconsciousness. She’s eight years old again and lying on the floor in Nana’s kitchen. Her eyes flicker slightly, she sees Nana hovering over her. I must have fainted. She tries to smile but her face is frozen. You always use your disgusting smelling salts to bring me round. Slowly consciousness returns and Nana’s image disappears. 

‘Lark . . . wake up!’ Rowan shakes Lark hard. ‘Wake up!’

Conscious now Lark’s eyes dart around the room, ‘Home?’

‘Yes.’ Quickly Rowan checks Lark over. ‘My God you gave me a scare,’ roughly she pulls Lark up onto a chair. ‘You’re cold as ice.’

Lark rests her elbows on the table then drops her head into her hands. ‘My head hurts.’

‘You banged it when you fainted. You fell off the chair.’ Rowan pushes a mug of hot sweet tea into Lark’s hands. 

Lark speaks quietly, ‘I was flying.’

‘Have you been at the Sloe Gin?’ Rowan plonks down on the chair facing Lark, all sympathy gone, her words drip with sarcasm.

‘You know I don’t drink,’ Lark glares at her. ‘I stood on something sharp,’ she bends to examine her feet. ‘Look – I’m bleeding.’

‘Lark, I know you’ve always believed you could fly, but really…’

‘But nothing!’ Lark’s fists bang the table, crockery bounces and rattles. ‘You hypnotised me, Rowan. You know I’m telling the truth.’

‘Okay,’ Rowan shouts, ‘so where did your invisible wings take you?’

‘To the Moon.’

Rowan bursts out laughing, ‘Prove it.’

Lark reaches inside the black cloak she’s still wearing, pulls out a chunk of shimmering moonstone and slams it down on the table. ‘That do you sister dear? And if that’s not enough for you, this stuff on my feet is actually moon dust!’ 

Rowan clasps her hands to her mouth – gobsmacked, totally, utterly, literally, gobsmacked.