AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’ll never hear her soft laugh as she watches sitcom reruns.
I’ll never taste her incredible Irish stew I can’t master, no matter how many times I try.
I’ll never see that indulgent look on her face, the one where I’d catch her watching me unawares, like she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have me.
Sorrow clogs my throat and I pick up a fork and spoon the rice into my mouth to dislodge it. I need to eat. I can’t afford to feel woozy like I did earlier, because with Cora’s over the top reaction today, I feel like I’m getting somewhere. If I can push her buttons a little more, who knows what I may discover?
I continue to read as I demolish the delicious rice, followed by a simple fruit salad of orange, watermelon, apple, and pear. There are extensive chapters on the piracy in this region and I flip through them, before seeing something that catches my eye.
Thevegvisir.
Interestingly, the Viking compass doesn’t date back to the Viking era, in the eighth to eleventh centuries. It came into being much later in Europe and the Nordic people claimed it as their own because if they carried the sign, that person would never lose their way in storms or bad weather, even when the route was unknown.
Is that why Mom had the compass tattooed on her sole? To protect her and guide her home? But if so, Arcania is her sanctuary, yet she never once mentioned it to me. And she obviously left without looking back.
Nothing about this place suggests a haven to me. It’s too creepy. Too many shadows, too many nooks. As for those tunnels that run beneath the mansion, who knows what lives down there?
I know I’m being fanciful. Which budding writer isn’t? Those tunnels are more than likely linked to the piracy centuries ago that I just read about. And if a house has a spooky aura, it doesn’t mean anything nefarious lingers within its walls.
I need to focus on facts. My mother had Arcania’s logo tattooed on her foot. That’s why I came here, to discover how that happened; I should ignore the rest of the mysterious stuff.
I read on, desperate to discover all I can about thevegvisir. According to legend, the symbol was drawn onto the traveler’s forehead before leaving home.
In blood.
A chill sweeps over me and I look up from the book to find my room shrouded in darkness, bar the lamp I’m using to read. I stand to draw the curtains and as I glance outside, I see what looks like a thousand lanterns bobbing in the trees. Considering the few people staying here, that can’t be right, so I blink several times but the lights are still there, constantly moving.
I crack the window but can’t hear anything, bar the distant boom of the ocean’s waves crashing against rocks. As I close the window, I see the lights coalesce into the symbol I’ve just been reading about.
Impossibly, thevegvisiris suspended high about the trees, floating in nothingness, its vivid turquoise lighting the sky momentarily, before it vanishes.
I rub my eyes and refocus, continuing to look out the window in the hope I’ll see something that makes sense, something to justify these crazy visions I keep having. But there’s nothing.
I must be more overtired than I thought, despite my nap earlier. Maybe a good night’s sleep will diminish these weird notions that plague me. It’s not the first time reading about something otherworldly has made my imagination run wild.
But those other times were different. I’d had dreams and this time, staring out the window, I’d been very much awake.
I close the book and slide it back onto the bookshelf before placing my tray outside my door. Bed is beckoning, for no other reason than I may get some reprieve from the endless thoughts and questions pinging through my head.
I expect to lie awake for a long time considering my nap, but I drift off quickly. Only to be woken by the sound of thundering hooves.
I open my eyes, expecting the noise to stop. That’s what happens with dreams. But the pounding is relentless and I sit up in bed, immediately wishing I hadn’t when I see people in white robes running mindlessly in circles, their terror palpable.
So not a dream then, a nightmare. But my room looks exactly how it was before I fell asleep, apart from the galloping hooves and the robed people.
I inhale deeply, taking in great lungfuls of air, before exhaling slowly. Over and over. Hoping to calm my nerves. There’s a difference between being edgy because I’m sleep deprived and grieving and feeling like this house is coming alive and deliberately scaring me.
The robed people meld into the wall and disappear, only to be replaced by my mother running through the tunnel I’d explored, abject terror contorting her face. Her mouth is wide open in a silent scream and she’s scrabbling at the stone walls until her fingers bleed.
My chest is so tight I can’t breathe, and I claw at the blankets covering me, desperate for air. Goosebumps cover my arms as Mom fades into the wall too, her eyes locking on mine before she disappears.
That’s when the moaning starts, followed by a low growl of “Help me, Lucy. Help me.”
Trembling, I leap out of bed and stumble to the door. I need to get out of here. I flick the lock, fumbling with the knob as fear courses through me. The doorknob is rigid and I yank at it repeatedly until it suddenly gives and the door flings open, sending me slamming against the wall behind it.
My bones rattle and the back of my head throbs with the impact, but it doesn’t stop me.
I stagger into the corridor and make a run for it.
