Layla's shoes tapped the wooden porch steps lightly as she skipped up them in the morning light. John's car was already there so she opened the front door announcing herself as she entered.
She found him in the living room prodding his phone with one finger. "Hey there, welcome back. I've got to run off for a little while, I'll leave you to it and will pop back later, OK?"
"Sure, see you soon." And with that he left the building, his heavy footsteps reverberating on the wooden floor as he retreated. The quiet hummed in her ears. Every non sound was deafening, centring herself she listened deeper to what the aged walls were frantically chatting about.
With her senses at their highest she could see with her psychic eye the objects that called out to her the strongest. Their energy stamps shone the brightest and they shimmered with the residual energy they would store for all time.
Layla let herself be drawn to her next reading. The strength of the house wanting to replay it's memories would ensure she discovered each piece of the puzzle how it wanted to and that was that.
She stopped in front of a solid wood, carved frame hanging from the wall, the art encased was a simple sketched landscape. How strange that her journey would begin here, in a seemingly unimportant doodle nailed to the wall. Layla traced the intricate grooves of the frame with her fingertips and listened.
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Ash Benson sat on the porch steps. The morning light emerged from the horizon at the perfect angle, highlighting the trees and distant houses on one side, smothering them with shadow on the other. The visual provided the perfect metaphor for Ash's life.
Scratching at the paper with his crude stick of charcoal he drew the shapes of the buildings, the greenery and contours of the land ahead, but purposely failed to shade them.
"In the dreams I see, when I am not awake, no darkness is near. In the nightmares, darkness is everywhere, but I am awake." He spoke aloud to himself. Rubbing his blackened fingers on his trousers and twisting his sketch into a scroll. He stood up and watched the little boy, from the house down the lane, throw sticks and debris into the brook. A much smaller house, a much grubbier boy. But the little bugger was happy throwing his findings into the running water.
Letting his gaze wander slightly further Ash noticed her for the first time. It was a particularly playful day, the sun and the wind complimenting each other flirtatiously. There was a girl walking, he watched her with interest as her long hair fluttered and the white gold colouring of it rippled brightly with each step.
Surely she was visiting the grubby house and the grubby family, that was the only explanation, because if she was visiting any of the houses behind his she'd have been hitchhiking on the main route into the town instead, a few miles west.
Ash leaned back against the outside wall of his house in an amusingly casual way, the pose incited deja vu, since he'd first been bound to this house he'd been anything but casual after. It was especially peculiar for him to remember in detail his life before, where he'd be positioned exactly as he was now waiting to charm an approaching maiden, memories like that had barely had a chance to surface since the darkness invaded.
As the girl approached the grubby house she skirted around the perimeter and continued up to the bank of the brook. She paused for thought, the water wasn't deep, nor was it dangerous. Ash watched her, entertained by her mannerisms. The little boy spotted her and ditched his game to run up to her. They shared a quick exchange and the lad dashed into the water, mounted the other side then ran back again. The girl applauded him and tentatively took her first step into the brook, she threw a wave over her shoulder as she crossed and he watched from the bank.
The field surrounding Ash's house grew wildflowers and displayed just as much lilac and blue as it did green. As she approached, Ash prepared to talk to her, to question her on why she was choosing this path into town, extending her journey unnecessarily. She'd supposedly shrug, give some flippant response, exchange niceties with him and then be on her way. Never to be seen again. Unfortunate for Ash because she intrigued him, irrationally, but even so.
As she grew closer she surveyed his house, eyeing the two storeys from the outside, taking in the stonework. Her gaze came to rest on him eventually. Ash's lips were quirked in mild humour, but it was the girl who spoke first. "I've found you." She said.
"Found me?" The unexpected opening line suprised him and that was all he could articulate.
"I'm Autumn, Autumn Fiyre." She offered her hand shyly and Ash didn't know whether to shake it or kiss it, so he took it in his and inclined his head.
"Ash Benson." Holding her delicate hand in his coal smudged, callous one made something within him ignite. "Why were you looking for me?" No one from his previous life would be looking for him. They'd probably been dead for over a decade.
"You've been calling me, Ash. Since my sixteenth day of my birth, you've been calling me."
From Ash's other hand his curled up sketch floated to the ground, forgotten, as he released his clenched fist.
YOU ARE READING
Autumn & Ash
RomanceA story told by a medium, Layla, as she tries to unlock the secrets held within a house that's been empty for over a century, due to generations of the same family requesting in their will for it to be so. When the previous owner died without making...
