As the willow droops

The Hollow, drooping tree

It was quite a long car journey. Johansson did not speak much, unless they were stopping for fuel, when he would point her towards the bathrooms before he would disappear into the shop to pay for the refill. Willow felt her eyelids drooping and head lolling to the side often, she was weary after a mere half hour of driving. They had passed a few cities by now, and where driving past rolling hills that stretched for miles. Willow was about to confront Johansson, when he looked at her in the rearview mirror for the second time during the whole drive. "We'll be there soon. I suggest you sleep, you will.need to be in full form when we arrive." Johansson's gravelly voice was a relief for her, the silence that had been hanging over them had been a nightmare. Willow settled down into her seat. The sky outside the car was like the skin of a peach, it glowed and brushed all corners of the land with its light, glimmering through tall tree branches, shining off lush grasses and blinking on the hood of the car. That was the last thing Willow saw before she allowed sleep to grip fully upon her.

Willow was jolted awake by the black car bumping unsteadily beneath her. She had been in a very uncomfortable position- her head had fallen to her shoulder and her neck ached when she tried to stretch. It was now dark outside the car, the surroundings were less welcoming, and more foreign than anything, with dark shapes looming up put of the horizon, like a dark sea and submarines emerging from the dark grasses. There were clouds in the sky, yet the moon found a way to peak out from behind them and dimly illuminate the road ahead. And what was ahead made Willows' heart drop to her feet. There was a squat, Majestic Manor-like house before her. A gravelly, bumpy road lead towards the fern green gates which had a mischievous basilisk guarding on either side. There were lights in almost every window, yet there was something about it that was unwelcoming. Surrounded by tall trees that were swaying slightly with the wind, and with a vast green area complete with various flower beds. The gates began to creak and open, sliding inward themselves, and Johansson did not waste time on pressing the accelerator, making them speed faster towards this strange house.

Willow rubbed her sweaty palms against her thigh. She had her brow furrowed, wondering what the hell was going on. As far as she knew, this was her new home. She did not ask questions, she simply followed instructions, yet she wished she could've been back in her home, spinning pottery or laying in her mother's bed, propped up on a pile of pillows lookin out onto the night sky. Yet, Alas, she was here, somewhere she didn't know, preparing to live in the middle of a lonely countryside. Of course, her throat tightened as they finally pulled up to the double doors, Johansson slowing the car down until it reached a stop. Looking into his eyes, Willow saw a darkness there. But this wasn't directed at her. It was, she realised, directed at the house.

  Johansson looked back at her, and nodded. "This is our destination. Welcome to Crooked Hill." As Johansson finished his croaky welcome, the double doors opened, and a short, thin man came to the car. He peered in momentarily, before retrieving Willow's suitcases from the boot, and without a second glance at the car, returned inside. He did look comical, stumbling up the stone steps to the doors, attempting to carry about twice his weight in suitcases. Another person came outside, a woman this time, she looked motherly, like a hen, round and kind faced, she opened the door to the car on Willows side. She was wearing a dark blue blouse with a black pencil skirt. She smiled kindly at Willow. "Welcome, Welcome! You should be coming inside, dear, I have a bed set out and a fire is being stoked dear, you'll need some rest before you meet young Chris!" the woman was practically squeaking at Willow, her voice was warm and flowed like honey, and she smelled like apples. Willow quickly squeezed out of the car, and was swept through the doors. She felt heavy headed, intoxicated, as she was being dragged up a hall, then stairs, then through a doorway to a bed. She was sat down, and she could hear a chipper from the woman that had brought her in. Johansson had been left in the car, she realised, and she was so caught up in her thoughts she didn't realise she was being spoken to until Miss. Frantic shook her. "I'm Missus Mable, dear! Oh you poor young sugar blossom, you're in your own world. Well, Willow, I think you should sleep dear." Mrs. Mable popped Willow on the nose, throwing her a pair of pyjamas. "you should change, dear, then sleep." She disappeared then, shutting the wooden door behind her. Willow was so disorientated, she slipped on the cold pyjamas before slipping between a foreign bedspread and as her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep.