The depth of short stories and micro-fiction 2

The Summoning of Roxanne

Deep in the heart of the whispering woods, where ancient trees twisted and gnarled with age, stood a cabin that had been hidden away for decades. Its wooden beams had weathered to a soft, silvery grey, and its roof was a tapestry of moss and ferns. The cabin had been the home of Great Aunt Lucinda, a reclusive and mysterious figure who had lived and died in these woods; far from prying eyes. Now, it was to be the inheritance of Roxanna, a young and rebellious werewolf who had never even met her aunt. 

Roxanne stood at the edge clearing, her eyes fixed on the cabin with a mix of curiosity and wariness. She had grown up in the city, surrounded by the hum of traffic and the glow of streetlights. This isolation was a far cry from the world she knew. Still, there was something about the cabin that drew her in, a sense of belonging she couldn't quite explain. She shrugged off her backpack and took a step forward, the crunch of gravel beneath her boots echoing through the silence.

As she approached the cabin, Roxanne noticed something strange. Symbols had been etched into the trees, and the air seemed to vibrate with an otherworldly energy. Her werewolf senses prickled, warning her of potential danger. She quickened her pace, her hand reaching for the door handle as if seeking refuge from the unknown.

Inside, the cabin was musty and dark, but Roxanne could see the outline of a cosy living space. There was a fire pit in the centre of the room, surrounded by comfortable armchairs and a well-worn sofa. Books lined the shelves, their spines worn and faded. Roxanne wandered over to the bookcase, running her fingers over the spines, searching for any clues about her aunt's life.

As she delved deeper into the cabin, Roxanne discovered a journal hidden away in a small, secret compartment. The leather cover was supple, and the pages were filled with Lucinda's flowing script. Roxanne settled into one of the armchairs, her eyes devouring the words as she began to unravel the mystery of her aunt's life.

The journal spoke of a long-forgotten tradition, one in which the family had been tasked with protecting the woods from those who would seek to exploit its magic. Lucinda had been the last guardian, and now, it seemed, Roxanne was to take up the mantle. But there was something more, a warning that echoed through the pages: be wary of those who seek to summon the power of the woods, for they will stop at nothing to claim it.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the cabin in a warm, golden light, Roxanne began to feel a creeping sense of unease. The symbols outside seemed to be pulsing with otherworldly energy, and she could sense that someone was watching her. She closed the journal, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of movement.

And then, she saw it. A figure, standing just beyond the edge of the clearing. Tall and imposing, its presence seemed to draw the very air out of the atmosphere. Roxanne's werewolf instincts flared to life, her senses on high alert as she stalked towards the door. Who was this stranger, and what did they want with her?

As she emerged into the night air, Roxanne's eyes locked onto the figure. It was a man, his features indistinct in the fading light. He raised a hand, and the symbols around the cabin seemed to respond, pulsing with an eerie blue glow. Roxanne's hackles rose as she realized the truth: this stranger was trying to summon her, to harness the power of the woods for his purposes.

Without hesitation, Roxanne shifted into her werewolf form, her body exploding into a furry, snarling mass. The stranger didn't flinch, his eyes fixed on her with an unnerving intensity. Roxanne charged, her jaws open wide, but the stranger was prepared. He raised his hand, and the symbols around the cabin flared to life, creating a barrier that held Roxanne at bay.

The two locked eyes, their wills clashing in a silent battle of strength and determination. Roxanne knew she had to protect the woods, to keep the stranger from unleashing its power. She snarled and snapped, her claws raking against the barrier, but it held firm. The stranger's eyes seemed to bore into her very soul, his presence an unyielding force that threatened to consume her.

Just when it seemed the stranger would prevail, Roxanne remembered the words of her aunt's journal. The woods had a power of its own, one that could be harnessed and wielded by those who understood its secrets. With newfound determination, Roxanne focused her mind, reaching out to the woods for aid.

The trees seemed to respond, their branches creaking and swaying in a gentle, rhythmic motion. The symbols around the cabin began to pulse with a new energy, one that was attuned to Roxanne's heartbeat. The barrier began to falter, and Roxanne saw her chance. With a final, mighty burst of strength, she shattered the barrier and sent the stranger stumbling backwards.

As the dust settled, Roxanne stood victorious, her chest heaving with exertion. The stranger was gone, vanished into the night like a ghost. She shifted back into her human form, her eyes scanning the clearing for any sign of movement. The symbols around the cabin had faded, their energy spent.

Roxanne knew that this was just the beginning. She had inherited not only a cabin but also a legacy, a responsibility to protect the woods from those who would seek to exploit its power. And she was ready. For the first time in her life, Roxanne felt a sense of belonging, of purpose. She was no longer just a rebellious young werewolf; she was a guardian, a protector of the woods and all its secrets.

As she turned to enter the cabin, Roxanne noticed something strange. The trees seemed to be watching her, their branches whispering a gentle, ancient language. She smiled, feeling a sense of connection to the woods and its power. She knew that she would face many challenges in the days to come, but she was ready. Roxanne had discovered her true calling, and she would defend the woods with her life.