Nightingale

Chapter 4

The walk home from school only took ten minutes in a car, but usually half an hour by foot. Bainscliffe Priory used to be an old monastery, and so was located quite out of the way for most people – it was both protected by the hills and concealed by the extensive woodland which surrounded the area. Fable lived in a white, stony cottage nearby, where she stayed with her mother and aunt. She thoroughly enjoyed having her aunt Vanessa around, as she was full of mystery and intrigue. She had thick, black curly locks, cascading all the way down her back, and ivory skin which shone like the moon. Vanessa had that unconventional beauty – almost like a witch, or a gothic model. She wore thick make-up everyday, and had a breath-taking collection of tattoos inked all over her slender arms and body. Her aunt could read tarot cards, or tell your future in the bottom of a teacup, or through gently tracing those delicate lines on the palm of your hand. Fable also knew she had a passion for anything supernatural, or the occult, but didn't often ask her about it out of fear, for the unknown was particularly frightening to her.

However, this evening, she couldn't help but let her imagination go wild, as there was certainly something unearthly about this weather which none of the TV stations seemed to have predicted that morning. Fable battled through the ferocious winds, and as she approached her garden gate, the tree branches above her head started to rattle uncontrollably as she unlatched the rusty, old lock and stepped into the front yard. The garden itself looked unkempt and overgrown like an abandoned fairytale; the long grass tickled the backs of her knees as she waded through – parting it like a head of hair. What a mess – she thought to herself. If only her mum would stop moping about the house all day with the curtains drawn, then she might take out the lawnmower every once in a while. I bet Rachel's lawn is a healthy, emerald green, surrounded by finely chopped topiary – chimed the sarcastic little voice in her head. I bet her mother has prepared her a plate of home-made chocolate chip cookies with a fresh glass of milk too. Fable rolled her eyes at her own childishness and then fumbled about trying to unlock the front door – only to find it was already open. Oh no – she thought. This meant that they had visitors. The women in her house became far too neglectful when in the company of friends. As soon as the door cracked open, she was hit by a powerful aroma; it was like a mixture of fragranced candles, herbal teas and essential oils, and she could just make out the whisperings of women in the darkness.

"Oh, look – Fable's home everybody!" her aunt piped up from the back room, disrupting the quiet atmosphere. "Come in, darling! It's freezing out there. Let me get that coat off your shoulders – you look lovely in it by the way. Want some tea?"

Vanessa seemed to be shifting from eager to erratic. She seemed desperate to get Fable inside, and practically came scurrying in to help her undress in the hallway. Fable could see how her hands were almost trembling with excitement as she hung up her scarf, coat and gloves. They had barely made it an inch down the corridor when her aunt suddenly grabbed her close and started frantically whispering in her ear - "We have an extremely important guest here tonight, Fable! Oh - We have been blessed! You would not believe what we have already seen tonight! It's incredible! This...woman", she paused for a moment, as if struggling to find the right word, "She's like... an other worldly force or something! She can transform a beetle into a butterfly!"

Fable shook her off, almost violently. "What on earth are you on?" she demanded impatiently. She usually loved it when her aunt was here, but tonight... It was like a different person. She did not recognise this crazed lunatic at all. Fable was even a little ashamed to find herself examining Vanessa's pupils for enhanced dilation, or some other sign of intoxication, but to her surprise, found nothing. Her aunt's breath only smelled faintly of citrus - like a lemon tea; none of that sickly after-scent which so often plagues the breath of drinkers.

"Oh", said Vanessa, looking down at the floor in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to frighten you by bombarding you like that – but I swear to you, the things we have seen will blow your mind. She defies the very laws of nature!"

"Auntie!" yelled Fable, "If this is a joke, it's not funny at all. Don't tell me you hired another 'magician' or something. You know I don't believe in any of your paranormal crap!"

Vanessa huffed angrily. "Listen, Fable. I know you're easily scared because you're just a naïve, little child, who would prefer to pretend the world is all about singing songs on Tiktok for the approval of a bunch of nobodies– but make no mistakes, this magic is realer than you are!"

"Oh my god!" screamed Fable, whose fatigue from the day was finally turning into fury, "You are hysterical! I hate both you and mum! The both of you are terrible. Just leave me alone!"

Fable pushed her aunt into the wall to escape the claustrophobic corridor, and dashed up the stairs to her room, slamming the door behind her. Exhausted, she collapsed onto her bed and started to cry, burying her face into her pillow.