Looking Glass: an Anthology (bi-weekly updates)

Twilight Zone

A brisk wind shook the tree branches with vigor; a flock of birds burst noisily through the foliage, startled by the disturbance. Bennett shaded his eyes as he watched the flock take flight, vanishing past the horizon. The bold coral sky was quickly giving way to the muted blues and deep purples of twilight.

Bennett continued down the dirt path that led from the bottom of his drive to the woods. While most people spent summer evenings drinking merrily on their neighbour's patio, Bennet strolled through the woods surrounding his secluded cabin in his trusted plaid shirt, tan wool pants, and hiking boots; hunting, foraging, or otherwise walking his dog, Yeller, who was currently bounding some paces ahead of him. On rainy days, Bennet whittled firewood indoors whilst watching old classics on his portable television. He quite liked solitude, especially in his older age.

By the time Bennet caught up to Yeller, he found the latter sniffing and pawing around a groove in the path. "What have you got there?", he asked before he bent down to retrieve whatever it was that had Yeller so intrigued. Not a groove then. It looked to be a piece of bark. Perhaps Yeller wants to fetch, Bennet thought to himself. He pulled his arm backward, preparing to fling the piece of bark down the path, when something on the underside of the bark caught his attention. He turned it over in his hands.

Here, the bark was coloured white. Doodles decorated the bottom half. Bees and...flowers perhaps? There looked to be a doodle or two of the sun as well. Written in the middle in swirly letters was a phrase. "Fairy Woods," Bennet said out loud, puzzled. Then he scowled. He'd seen a group of campers come through the woods recently. Rambunctious bunch. Maybe they'd gotten into a bit of arts and crafts. It appeared they'd left their junk behind. Bennet was reminded of why he preferred to live apart.

He pitched the piece of bark into the trees with a huff. Yeller whined, but Bennet set off down the path once again. Yeller eventually caught up, bounding happily by his side. The poor creature had a short memory, but he was all the more sweeter for it.

Twilight had now well and truly set in, but Bennet was not fazed. He could traverse these woods with his eyes closed. He knew them as well as he knew the back of his own hand, perhaps even more. It was startling then, when some yards later, he felt a curious jolt run through his body. It shimmered from the tips of his hair to the tips of toes. Even Yeller fidgeted momentarily. It was as though...as though he'd passed through a force field from one his classic sci-movies. Bennet shook his head as if to send the wayward thought flying. He'd spent one too many days indoors it seemed.

It was only six steps later that Bennet found himself halted once again. A sudden silence had descended around him. It was deafening in the most ironic way. There was no breeze, no rustling of leaves, no buzzing of lightening bugs. Only the sound of his breathing and his heartbeat; quite unsettling for one to become aware of.

A flash of white to his right caught his attention. What in the world, he though to himself as he cautiously moved in that direction. The branches here were lower hanging and knotted tightly together. Bennet carefully pulled the branches back, creating an opening at eye level. The silence seemed to deepen has Bennet's breath and heart stuttered, blotting out even this little noise.

In the clearing before him stood a woman, though there was something 'other' about her that he could not place. She was facing Bennet. Her skin was uncommonly pale, yet Bennet could swear that it glowed. Her chestnut tresses cascaded in long, gleaming waves. They seemed to be gently swaying, despite the lack of a breeze. A circlet of pale pink blossoms rested on the crown of her hair. A similar circlet of blossoms cinched the waist of her ivory grown. It too was billowing despite the lack of a breeze. Had Bennet lost all sense of touch? He pinched himself to be sure, and only ended up grimacing from the pain.

The woman had given no indication that she'd sensed Bennet, but he was sure he'd seen a sly smile flit across her face. Her features were sharp: her ears a touch pointed, her eyebrows angular, her cheekbones dramatically slanted, and the Cupid's bow of her lip pronounced. She was beautiful in a frightening way.

Come to think of it, she was also unusually tall.

In her hands she carried an ornate wooden box, inset with stones reminiscent of the colour of the blossoms in her hair. Bennet thought that he'd never whittled anything as intricate. A brush by Bennet's leg reminded him that he'd brought Yeller along. He looked down with a start. Yeller was staring into the clearing – at the woman – mesmerized. He didn't move. He didn't bark. Simply stared. Unsure how to react, Bennet hesitantly turned back to the clearing.

The woman had set the box on the ground. Her hands were linked together at her waist and her eyes were closed. Her hair and gown continued to sway. Bennet held his breath. For a moment, nothing changed. Bennet shifted on his feet. Then he felt it. A gentle breeze picked up. Sound returned to the clearing – a soft, steady buzzing noise. A sense of foreboding feathered on the edges of Bennet's mind. After today, he would learn to trust his instincts.

The breeze continued to pick up. Turning into a gale and then what could only be described as a whirlwind. Fallen leaves and branches were swept up. They whipped alarmingly around the clearing. Tree boughs shuddered violently and Bennet became unsteady on his feet. He braced his legs and clutched the branches before him till his knuckles whitened. Yeller whined, the spell now broken. He pressed into Bennet's leg.

The buzzing noise intensified, such that Bennet didn't know whether to release the branches before him to cover his ears or continue to hold on for dear life. It was too much too fast.

The woman stood perfectly still, as if she where in the eye of the storm. Suddenly she began to rise, and Bennet wondered if he was having a vivid fever dream. Her body was now parallel to the ground, her fingers still locked at her waist, her long tresses and billowing gown floating outward, her bare feet visible. Somehow, her circlet of blossoms had not dislodged.

A ball of light formed above her hands. Bennet squinted through the debris flying towards him. It appeared to be...growing. No that couldn't be. Could it? Oh, dear god it could. The sphere of light bloomed at an alarming rate. It enveloped the woman, yet continued to reach outward. When it became clear that it would explode, Bennet hit the ground, shielding Yeller with his body. He garnered many a scrape on the way down.

He felt the heat of the explosion. He could swear that it singed the tips of his hair. It issued a thunderous crack, and all fell silent again. The leaves and branches that had been swept into the whirlwind abruptly dropped. The tree boughs stilled.

Bennet remained unmoving, breathing heavily. For a long moment he did nothing. He simply tried to process what had happened. When Yeller whined again, he moved off of him to ensure his good health.

Yeller bolted up and into the clearing. "Wait!", Bennet yelled, scrambling to his feet. He tripped over himself and into the clearing as he chased Yeller. Yeller was sniffing the ground where the woman had once stood.

In her place was now a patch of scorched dirt. And a solitary white feather. Bennet reached instinctively to retrieve it, but paused just an inch short, unsure. The tips of the feather brushed the tips of his fingers and they flinched reflexively. His hand closed around the stem of the feather. He waited, foolishly he'd tell himself later, for a ball of light to appear and swallow him whole.

Nothing.

He straightened, bringing the feather level with his eyes, squinting. It was impossibly soft, and strangely iridescent. He turned it in his hands. Only one thought buoying in his bogged mind: what the hell had just happened, and what was he meant to do now?