the shadows the phantoms left behind

chapter one

The wind is howling, soft rain is sprinkling down from the full, gray clouds, and the air seems solid, like if you were to try and breathe it in you would suffocate.

But that's not what catches my attention.

Fog horns blow loudly somewhere in the distance, which isn't an unusual sound to hear in this town, but...

Although it is stormy, the sky like slate and the ocean like a deep, swirling abyss, fog is nowhere to be seen.

I close my computer immediately, springing up from my seat outside on the patio and hurry inside, locking the door behind me. I can still hear them, the horns, even from within the safety of my home.

I grab my headphones from the counter and lift them over my head, beginning to play music as fast as I possibly can.

A sort of pressure seems to be lifted from my body as soon as I can hear the fog horns no longer. Soft voices and electric guitar drown everything out until all that's left is the clothes on my skin and the dry air of my family's little home that sits on this beach.

A tap on my shoulder startles me out of my peace, and I whirl around, only to breathe a sigh of relief when I see it's just my mother.

I lower the volume of my music and slide my headphones down so they are resting on my shoulders. "Hey, mom," I say quietly, trying for a smile.

My mother's comforting, beautifully wrinkled face is set in one of calm, but I can see the worry lingering behind her emerald green eyes. My emerald green eyes.

"Hi, Andromeda. Are you okay?" she asks in that soft, motherly voice of hers.

I walk forward, pulling my mother into a hug. She hugs me back, her warmth seeping through my skin and nestling right into the worried little place in my heart. The feeling of her arms around me makes me smile, this one definitely not forced.

"I'm alright," I reply, holding her tighter, trying to ignore the fog horns.

My mom pulls away from the hug and walks into the kitchen, standing on her tip toes so she can reach the tea that she stupidly keeps in one of the tallest shelves in the house. We have a shit ton of tea.

"What were you doing outside?" she questions quietly.

I don't ask how she knows I was outside, I'm used to my mother knowing everything.

"Working on my portfolio again," I say in a wistful tone of voice.

She grabs two mugs, filling the red tea kettle we have with warm water as she gives me a knowing look. "Andromeda. Again? It's perfect the way it is, I've seen it too many times to count." She shakes her head.

I sigh. "I know, but...then why aren't I getting any jobs?"

My mom smiles gently at me. "Your time will come. You're a great photographer, Andy."

I blink, surprised to hear her calling me that. My mom never calls me by my nickname, in fact, she's the only one I let call me by my full name. I decide not to comment. "Um...thanks, mom."

The tea kettle screeches, finally hot enough. My mom grabs the kettle with her black cat oven mitt, pouring the steaming water into each of the cups.

"What kind of tea do you want?" she asks.

I shrug. "I don't really care."

My mom thinks for a moment. "Chamomile it is then."

As we begin drinking our tea, the fog horns ominously bellowing outside finally stop. The rain falls harder.