Birthspell

3

Five months later

The city once known as the 'Old Dominion,' passed by me as open fields and fragile barns. The sun beamed a vibrant orange rather than the softer yellow I'd left behind six hours ago.

I guess it didn't look too different than Salt Lake City. If I looked close enough it was just as mountainous as the acclaimed twin peaks of the Wasatch Front or Oquirrh. But I was missing home already. It seemed as if it never existed. I was beginning to think the buzz of Temple Square and the distant flow of the Meridian was all imagined and I was back in real-time.

"So how is the new apartment? Have you settled in yet?" asked Isobel.

"Everything's running smoothly so far. My roommate's chatty."

"I'm sure it must be wonderful to have a place of your own."

"It is. Thanks Isobel. If you hadn't have helped, it might have taken me longer to escape the home."

She smiled. "And how about the book store?

"Jared has T.J and the books aren't exactly selling like hotcakes since the winter sale."

"A book store? That sounds interesting," said Gus, turning from the front seat of the Lincoln. He was the Lockes gardener. It was the first time I'd heard him speak. "Are you an avid reader?"

"Avid might be an overstatement, though I do have every classical literature. Maybe even every modern piece worth the time."

He smiled at my admission, as if silently telling me he was impressed.

"We have plenty of books in the study," interrupted Isobel with a slight hitch in her voice. "You may find something to your liking."

"That would be nice." I smiled genuinely for the first time. Isobel looked elated by it

"Do you study?" asked Gus next, much to Isobel's disapproval.

"Yes, I want to be a fashion designer."

He raised his brows then chuckled as if it made him happy.

It made me eager to say more. "I'm hoping to open my own store someday." I felt my lips stretch with a smile more than they probably should have. For some reason I reacted in a positive way to him, oblivious to anything else, even Isobel's grimace.

Isobel touched the fabric of my top. "You have great taste. I knew the moment I saw you that you had a creative streak in your heart. So did..." Her smile faltered, just like it always did when she was about to mention my mother.

The conversation faded. I took that as my chance to take a look at the town we'd entered. The streets became empty of anything remotely lived in or recently touched. They were so eerily quiet it was as if the wind whistled through a boatswain pipe.

"Blacksville is an incorporated town in Monongalia County with a population of 175." Isobel said as if to explain the strange silence. "We're in Shenandoah Valley which is a few miles from the larger city of Winchester."

I could see for myself it was a typical small town; even the stores were different, decorated with a facade of eighteenth-century signs. The houses were simple and small, close-set and with doors and shutters painted bright green, red, blue, or yellow. Groups of mostly the elderly sat on the sidewalks or verandas rocking in their chairs, knitting or reading a tattered book, occasionally lifting their heads to watch children play hopscotch or skip with a never-ending piece of rope.

As we reached a turning point, the trail became less bumpy, leading us onto an expanse of pebbles that crushed noisily beneath the wheels. A paved slope named Berry Hill led to wrought-iron gates entwined with shrivelled up ivy; a mist rose from nowhere, clinging to the windows as if the large estate was letting off steam. Overgrown shrubs and flower beds peaked through the haze, sometimes with a flutter of wings that must have belonged to a murder of crows judging by the constant cawing that was starting to give me the shivers.