Written by Edgar Villegas ( Ziggy)
The day was hot and moist on the island . It had the music of the breeze flut-tering in the ears of the children playing on the streets where the ferry docked.
This world was a different world, a different civilization. There were cars. ma-chines, and robots; Instead of unicorns, magic , and sorcerers. There were paved roads, and locked up temples, all looking quite the same. There was no magic, and very little love floating in the air.
It was now 3:00 o clock in the afternoon and the last ferry of the day approached the islands harbour, landing on the one dock by the main plaza of the island’s town, Yama. The horn alerted the people of the arrival, and children and their mothers ran down the dock, filled with curiosity and mischief. The boat touched the wooden hanging floor and immediately the working men opened up the gates. It was an un-usual scenery for the people of Yama this time around. They were used to three boats docking daily and each one pouring out a mass of tourists seeking art , arche-ologists with hopes of finding ancient temples, and aficionado wonderers who re-joice in the myths and legends of the island and take their selfish trips with hopes of tapping into ancient power.
This time around, the ferry only dropped off two people. An old woman, proba-bly in her late eighties, and young man who seemed pretty well on his early adult years. The two had been sharing a ferry ride for about two hours. A trip full of awk-ward silences and curiosity filled eye contact moments shared. But, every time such energy drawn him to look at her, he shied away and sank back into his favorite book, The Dhammapada.
When they finally stepped off the boat, the old woman approached the man slowly. And once she was next to the lad she asked in a very delicate but hypnotising voice “ You have no idea what you are doing here do you?”
“ My name is Sheena B. love, what is your name?”
The youngster looked down at his book, looked at her and with a pause re-plied. “ It, is a pleasure to meet you ma’am. My name is Alan Wistlecroft .”
“ It is indeed son,” she said, as she gently touched the book Alan kept holding subconsciously facing towards her in his hands. The old lady then flipped the hood of her cloak, covering her grey tangled long hair, and as she turned around and be-gan walking away she softly mouthed, “Well, enjoy your stay on the island dear . I am sure we will be seeing each other again sometime… Ahkin.”
“Ah…Its… Alan…” replied the man. But the old lady had vanished already through the crowd of spectators just pass the dock.
“ Are this all your suitcases lad?” , asked the captain of the small ferry startling him. “Yes, thank you,” he replied. Alan began walking towards land, but as he moved his book to put it away in his bag, a small piece of paper fell out from behind the front cover. The paper was old, stained, and handled. On it was the symbol of a spi-ral and in almost non visible writing, it read:
When Alan got pass the crowd of people, some waving hello, some sharing some words, some judging with glares, he spotted and walked towards the closest local merchant who by its outside display of signs and commercialism gave him the thought that he might be able to find a map, or direc-tions to the manor he was supposed to be moving into there. When he got inside, a woman, pregnant, and breast feeding a second child, came out to the counter and immediately in a surprised voice yelled out “ Can I help you with anything Sir?”
“Actually yes, thank you. I am trying to make my way to the Saint Catherine’s Manor. Do you have a map or perhaps directions that could help me?”
The woman behind the counter, put the baby that was in her arms down in a crib she had below the counter, and then she proceeded to grab a ladder. Alan did not ask questions, he stared in silence. The woman carefully reached for an old box in one of the top shelves. As she stepped down, she blew the dust of the top of the box and began talking.
“ No one has ever asked for directions getting to that Manor. You must be pretty lucky if you are able to visit it. Its owned by one of the oldest families on the Is-land, the Halliwells. Rich people I tell you, but very secretive, always. I do not know who lives there now. Last thing I heard, the last person who lived there had to leave because she was very ill. Its always been women living in that house, but, I wonder who lives there now?”
Alan replied “ I am actually here, moving. I am moving into Saint Catherine’s manor. I guess the old lady put an ad up after leaving wanting to rent the place. I am only renting a bedroom. I do not know who else could live there, but I know that others came to stay….like me.”
The old lady stopped moving for a couple of seconds. She changed her tone of voice and body language to a much more hostile and frigid connotation. “ Here you go, take it. I doubt anyone would ever buy it. Now, I got to close the store. I wish you luck in your journey young man. I really do. “
“Thank you” said Alan in content.
The woman then yelled for a man who by the direction of her shout, he would have clearly been in the back of the shop waiting. Then, a young man around the same years as Alan came out , sluggish and with a grin on his face.
The almost boyish looking man had satin sandy blond hair, and olive skin that had been clearly tanned in a constant regimen. He had no shirt on, he was only wearing the remaining parts off an old pair of shorts . His body was toned, and beautiful. Sweat dripped from his cheek bones, to his collar bones, down his pecto-rals, to his abdominal lines, and continued flowing like a river all the way down into a perfect downwards triangle that ended at the start of his low riding shorts. But, the most fascinating attribute Alan could not stop noticing, was his eyes. One green, one blue.
“ Alan this is my son William, he will be driving you to Saint Catherine’s tonight. It is getting dark soon, and there is no way you will be able to get there by hiking , specially passing the woods.” said the woman.
“I really don’t know how to thank you for your generosity.” expressed Alan con-cerned. But the lady just replied , “Alan, you already have.”
Alan nodded politely in gratitude and the lady smiled while rubbing her belly. William came close to Alan and finally spoke out.
“ Hi, nice to meet you. Is this your only bag? The car is outside, we better get go-ing, I do not want to get back too late to Ma.”
Both boys left the store, and walked towards an old but kept in maintenance ve-hicle. William loaded the bag., started the car, and they began their trip upwards to a new home.
The ride through the woods and towards the manor was not too long, alt-hough it seemed like it given the sexual and mystic energies that were present be-tween Alan and William. Very few words were spoken, and simple generic ques-tions about origin and personality came out sporadically. “ Alright lad, we are here” said William as he zoomed pass an open old and rusty gate . What Alan was about to see, was something beyond his wildest imagination.
The manor was one of the most beau-tiful pieces of architecture Alan had ev-er seen before. He was so speechless, not only at the fact that William seemed unimpressed by the house, but because he literally had no words as to what was going through his mind and all of his five senses at the moment. He did how-ever, have a few words with a lack of descriptive tones but charged with emotion:
“ It’s a fucking castle William! This is not a house!”
The house and land around it was completely covered in crows, the yard, the rooftops, window stills, and trees. This did not seem to impact Alan, but William seemed rather uncomfortable at the look and sound of the black painted grass.
Suddenly the front door opened , and a young girl came out running to greet the new comers. As she ran she greeted them repeatedly and her long white silk dress blew with the wind with angelical elegance.
“ Hello boys! What the fuck is with all the crows hey?
“I’m Sariel! How was the trip up here?” she asked as she stopped next to them catching her breath. “ It was good” replied William.
“Hello beautiful William, long time no see,” she said as she hugged the two eyed lad. “ Now you must be Alan, because Andrew already arrived, he’s inside. He al-ready cracked the bottle of wine open and decided to go on a tour of the house in-stead of coming to greet. Oh well! Now come on in my boys, it sounds and looks like there’s a storm coming, and since we haven’t been able to figure out where the fuse box is, we need this little light left to light up as many candles as we can.”
As Sariel ran back inside, Alan began to walk behind her but realised that William was no following. “ Will you come in for a moment William?” “ I need t get back to Ma, but it was very nice to meet you, and…enjoy your stay.”
“ Will I see you again friend? “ asked Alan with a look of possibility. “I’ll be around.” And with a wink of his blue eye. He jumped on the car and drove down the hill.
Alan came inside the manor, closed the door that practically needed to be pushed since it was so heavy, then abruptly a deep low pitched voice coming form the top of the stair case behind him startled him.
“ Hi… Great house isn’t.? There is so much art, and antiques , and things probably worth so much in this house. Who would rent it to stupid young people?” said he man shrugging.
“ Hi” said Alan. “ You must be Andrew.”
“ Yes. Now hurry up and come upstairs, were telling spook-ay stories in the li-brary.” answered Andrew. “ So, relax, you seem a bit jumpy.” — thunder strikes—
“ There’s a fucking library?” whispered Alan as he ran up the stairs in excitement and fright.
When he walked into the library, there were Andrew and Sariel sitting on the floor looking at old photos and books. The place was packed with old books, must of them unreadable because of all the dust covering the shelves.
“ This is incredible Alan.” said Andrew as he smoked his cigarette with vanity.
“ Sariel found a box full of old film that had not been developed. We are trying to look at them through the candles but cant make much of them except for people and obviously pictures of the house way back.”
“ You’ve heard about the legend of the island haven’t you Alan?” asked Sariel as she stood up analysing one of the pieces of film.
“ I have heard rumours but not the full story” “ Something about a prophecy, and magic…”
“ No Alan, there’s so much more, so much more!” Andrew said with a sarcastic tone. “ What about if the legend of the prophecy was true? What about if there are such things as evil spirits that will surface in 2012? What if, its true that there are much darker, obscure, things that could be awakened any moment. What if creatures and beings beyond our realm of understanding that we were made believe impossi-bilities, were actually real…”
Sariel stopped Andrews rough play with Alan and jumped into the conversation.
“ Yeah there is that part of the prophecy, but what about the rest? What about the prophecy of the four elders? The buried crystals? The four spirits?”
“ What fours spirits?” Asked Alan.
“ Legend says that this exact year, the year of the prophecy, planets will align Alan, the fifth civilisation is dying. The greatest shadows could will awaken, yes! But, it al-so says, that there will be the arrival of four mystical spirits, that will inherit the power of the elders buried down for generations with the crystals. Four mystical spir-its Alan, think about it. What if?”
“What if what?” asked Alan in a desperate tone.
“ I don’t know, things are just too confusing.” said Sariel as she sat don’t and set-tled.“ Why are we here? Why did my grandma decide to rent this creepy, old, scary, history filled house to me and two complete strangers from God knows where. I know there’s something happening. I can feel it. And I know you guys can too,” this time she said it softly as she looked out the window.
Then Andrew in a very sarcastic tone asked: “ Sariel, sweetheart. You sound so sure, but I can only count one, two, three — “and a powerful banging on the door stopped him mid sentence.
They all looked at each other with fear but curiosity. Andrew and Alan grabbed a candle and they all walk downstairs to open the door. Sariel was scared and as they slowly approached the old metal door she remained stuck to Alan’s arm.
They got to the door.. Alan opened it with caution. And outside all they found was a girl, soaked head to toe from the rain, with two suitcases, and a Parisian hat box.
“ Hi guys, I’m Astrid.” said the girl with shyness.
Then Andrew with an “Oh Shit” look on his face simply said”
END OF CHAPTER