The Grey Tower

The Green Flash

It started with a flash.

A green flash to be precise.

Everyone knew not to go near the tower, the old wife's tales that everyone whispered about continually were enough to scare most children, but young adults got curious, wanted to see how much was true. Bets of gold coin were placed to see who get closest to finding out what the truth really was. It was a stupid bet that the young adolescents made between themselves, most of the time no one ever got close, their nerves got the best of them, and they backed out before any real harm could be done. This time had been different, though. Nerves had not got the best of the fisherman's daughter. And here she stood, how she had got in, she didn't rightly remember if she was being honest. Had the door been open? Had she broken in? Kiira couldn't place the specifics, but it didn't really matter now.

What mattered was that five gold coins were hers to spend on whatever she wanted. The red head peered through the crack in the door, the winding staircase she was standing in was dark. The lanterns pitched on the wall had long since been snuffed out, she wasn't sure if they had ever been in use. For as long as she could remember, the tower had been a staple on the small coastal village of Greymouth. The air was salty, and the people were hard working fishers or fishwives.

The most extraordinary thing about Greymouth was the Tower, only ever referred to as the Grey Tower. It overlooked the occupants of Greymouth, silent and stoic. It had always been locked tight, the residents had long since spoken about mysterious lights, but Kiira had never witnessed them. For many of the youths, it was simply an old, haunted tower that the mothers used to scare their children into behaving.

Unsurprising and unremarkable. It had always looked creepy at night with the moon behind it, casting it in a silver glow and the daunting shadow that painted over the landscape. Now she was in, it was a different story. The clattering and muffled footsteps from within the tallest room hinted that there was something quite alive within the tower, along with the green flash that had almost blinded her. Bright eyes peered at her from the crack in the door and approached, a ginger cat batted and swatted at her spot and Kiira moved back, careful not to tumble down the steps as she did so, feeling the heel of her foot balancing on the edge. She tried to shoo the cat away as silently as she could, her pale green dress brushing the dusty stone beneath her.

"Molly! Hey, come away from there, horrible feline!" A man's voice, gruff with disuse and Kiira realized she could smell smoke, like freshly burnt logs permeating the air wafting from the door. It was no longer a 'something' but a someone and she wasn't entirely sure what was more terrifying as a thought. The cat, of course, took very little notice of what appeared to be its master. It nudged the door with its cheek, the old oak door creaked and complained at the movement as it opened, and Kiira was washed in firelight from a fireplace that stood adjacent the door inside a room.

It was well-lived in, but thick curtains kept the afternoon light from spilling in. There was only the flickering firelight and the warmth that came with it, brushing over damp stone.

"Molly-" The voice came from where her vision ended of the room and heavy steps moved closer and for a brief second Kiira thought the door would just swing shut and she would be saved from discovery. Hope was a fickle thing. Instead, a tall man breached her eye line and she stared at him, bewildered, mouth moving to make words, but no sounds came.

The man drew up to his full height and he looked just as confused and startled to see someone standing at the door.

"A rat." He finally spat after a moment of thought before reaching out and taking Kiira firmly by the shoulder and thrusting her into the room, she heard the heavy door shut and silence prevailed as the two stood, sizing one another up. Her only escape route was cut off by his stance and she almost tripped over a rickety stool but caught herself. This could not be happening; she was dreaming or had eaten something that had turned her mind wild.