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FictionMysterySuspense & Thrillers
Home›Fiction›Southern Ways – Part 9

Southern Ways – Part 9

By LC Ahl (Lucy)
June 24, 2024
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Plantation home with long driveway with mature oak trees along each side of the driveway
Rene Rauschenberger / Pixabay
This entry is part 9 of 16 in the series Southern Ways

Southern Ways
  • Southern Ways – Part 1
  • Southern Ways – Part 2
  • Southern Ways – Part 3
  • Southern Ways – Part 4
  • Southern Ways – Part 5
  • Southern Ways – Part 6
  • Southern Ways – Part 7
  • Southern Ways – Part 8
  • Southern Ways – Part 9
  • Southern Ways – Part 10
  • Southern Ways – Part 11
  • Southern Ways – Part 12
  • Southern Ways – Part 13
  • Southern Ways – Part 14
  • Southern Ways – Part 15
  • Southern Ways – Part 16
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Gravity tugged at every fiber of my being. The black hole stretched me thin as I hurtled through the abyss. Colors swirled around me in a mesmerizing dance that blended and morphed into shapes beyond comprehension. I shielded my sight and tried to steady myself against the onslaught of sensations that threatened to overwhelm my senses. And then, as fast as it had begun, the tumultuous journey jolted to an end.

I opened my eyes and found myself standing on solid ground, surrounded by a landscape unlike anything I had ever seen. The air was thick with otherworldly energy, that crackled with a sense of foreboding, sending shivers down my spine. This was no ordinary place; this was the heart of the black hole itself, and I knew my true journey was only beginning.

A tree appeared in the distance. Its twisted branches reached out like gnarled fingers. Long shadows appeared to dance in the eerie light. A powerful force pulled  me toward the willow tree. Each step I took, the air grew heavier, as I gasped for breath. The ground beneath my feet seemed alive. It pulsated with a strength that vibrated with power. As I approached the contorted willow, I heard unexplainable murmurs in the breeze, voices that communicated in an unintelligible tongue.

The faint, haunted noise filled the air as I reached out to touch the tree’s twisted trunk. My skin made contact and a surge of fire coursed through my veins. Surprised, it reeled me back. Visions flooded my mind, a kaleidoscope of memories and emotions from another time and place. I pictured forgotten faces and places I had never been, and a sense of purpose eluded my understanding.

Did Ralph’s constant isolation in his room stem from this reason?

I realized it wasn’t just the tree that held the secret to Ralph’s mysterious behavior. As the visions swirled around me, I sensed there was a deeper connection between Ralph and this strange place. The faces in my mind morphed into the features of my family members—my parents, my aunt, and then Ralph.

I saw him, a young boy, beneath the aged willow, his face filled with wonder. The current pulsated through the air and swirled around him. It wrapped him in a cocoon of light that shimmered with untold strength. And then I understood—Ralph was not only a part of this place; he was its guardian, chosen by some ancient force to protect its forbidden knowledge from those seeking to exploit its power. This old willow was more than a mere tree—it was a gateway, a bridge between worlds that held the key to unlocking long-buried secret mysteries.

With this revelation came a sense of urgency, a realization I was not just a simple bystander in this unfolding drama. I, too, had a purpose Aunt Rosie could never quite reveal to me until this instant.

Ralph shifted his gaze to me. His eyes reflected the same ancient wisdom I recognized in my reflection. Without a word spoken between him and me, he extended his hand toward mine, a silent invitation to join him in the realm of the guardians. As our hands touched, a surge of electricity pulsed through me, and intertwined our fates and connected us on a level deeper than blood or history.

I felt his heart, heard his thoughts, and saw his memories. Together, we stepped closer to the tree as the voices in the wind grew louder, their incomprehensible whispers now carried a sense of urgency. It was time to fulfill the legacy woven into our family’s fabric for generations untold.

With a shared breath, Ralph and I placed our palms on the leaves of the graceful willow. We experienced its ancient pulse that resonated beneath our touch. In this moment of unity, the world gave way to a blinding light that enveloped us in its warm embrace. I sensed a powerful voltage flow through me. The visions, once danced before my eyes, now solidified into tangible memories, experiences of past guardians who had stood in this exact spot and made the ultimate sacrifice to protect the secrets of the black hole.

The surrounding landscape transformed again as the glow dimmed and revealed a secret room at the tree’s base. Its walls were etched with symbols and sigils that emitted a shimmer that cast intricate illumination patterns throughout the area. In the center of the space sat a platform upon which a crystal sphere shimmered with an ethereal light.

Ralph and I approached the pedestal, our footsteps echoed in the hushed chamber. As we reached out and touched the orb, a voice echoed in our minds, ancient and wise beyond measure, which resonated deep within our souls. It spoke of intertwined prophecies and destinies, trials to come, and choices to be made.

I understood now what Aunt Rosie had been preparing me for this moment, guided me towards my true purpose. This legacy of guardianship she had passed down through our bloodline.

They chose us to restore balance, to stand as beacons of hope in the encroaching darkness, and to protect the fragile threads of existence from unraveling.

The chamber vibrated with electricity, the symbols on the walls glowed brighter with each passing moment. With a blinded flash, we found ourselves at the heart of the black hole.

Surrounded by cosmic energies, we floated weightless in the void, our minds linked in a symbiotic connection that transcended our individual selves. Ralph released my hand, and I went whirling through the abyss once more. Blurred colors twisted and bent into a dancing kaleidoscope of light. A wave of exhilaration and nervousness washed over me as I sped towards my destination.

And then, as quick as it had begun, my journey ended. I was back in Ralph’s wardrobe, where I stood on solid ground. Was I alone? I had expected Ralph beside me, but I turned only to find an empty closet. Confusion swirled within me as I tried to understand what had occurred. Was it all a dream? A figment of my imagination brought on by grief and longing for answers that eluded me? But the energy that lingered, thrumming through my veins, told me otherwise. It was true. The orb, the chamber, the voices – they were all real.

I stepped out of the enclosed space and back into the familiar surroundings of Ralph’s room. A sense of determination settled within me. Whatever had happened in that other realm, I knew it was now my responsibility to carry on Aunt Rosie’s legacy. I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized hours had passed since I entered the closet.

Why wasn’t Ralph back from his golf game? I made my way downstairs and opened the front door. The evening air was sharp, and the hair on my arms stood up. Not quite full, the moon cast a silvery glow over the property, imbued it with new possibilities and wonder. As I walked down the dirt driveway, the events of that unforgettable time played out in my head.  It resembled a vivid dream, each detail etched into my memory with startling clarity.

The unanswered questions gnawed at me, demanded resolution like a persistent itch at the back of my mind. How had Aunt Rosie truly died, and what connection did she have to the enigmatic plate-eye that haunted her house? The puzzle pieces seemed to hover just beyond my reach; teased me with their elusive nature.

Engrossed in my thoughts, I barely registered the figure that lurked behind an oak tree, engulfed in darkness and observed me with such intensity that it sent a shiver of fear down my back. As I drew closer, I recognized the silhouette of a person, their features obscured by the darkness of the night. Though I sensed danger, curiosity drove me forward; compelled me to confront this mysterious stranger.

As I approached, a woman stepped out of the shadows and revealed a face that was achingly familiar yet shrouded in secrets. Her eyes held a depth of knowledge that sent a jolt of recognition through me as if I had known her across lifetimes.

“Aunt Rosie?” I whispered. The name escaped my lips before I could fully comprehend the implications of her presence. The woman smiled, a bittersweet expression that spoke of both sorrow and wisdom.

“It is I, child,” her voice carrying an echo that seemed to resonate deep within the core of my being. “I have been keeping a close eye on you and directing you towards your predetermined future.”

My mind reeled and struggled to reconcile the image of my deceased aunt with the living, breathing woman who stood before me. Aunt Rosie reached out a hand, beckoning me closer with a gentle smile that tugged at my heartstrings.

“You have yet to discover so much, my dear,” her voice whispered, wrapping me in a warm hug. “The moment has arrived to unveil the truths that you still haven’t discovered, to embrace the legacy that runs through your veins. The darkness that threatens to consume you and the many like you is growing stronger, fueled by the imbalance we must strive to correct. Come, I will show you what you and the rest of the coven must do for the ultimate protection.” I reached for her outstretched hand.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?” Ralph’s loud voice shocked me, and my eyes flew open. Disoriented, I wasn’t able to speak at first. I lay at the threshold of the closet, turned over, and looked into Ralph’s angry face.

“Believe me, I don’t know how I got here.” I pushed myself to stand.

“How about you opened my bedroom door and started snooping through my things, for starters?”

“It’s not like that. I heard a noise, knew you weren’t home, and came to check.

“Did you find something?” He snickered. “I told you the other night to cut out the voodoo crap. I had my fill when my mother was alive. If you continue with this behavior, I’ll have no other recourse than to ban you from coming over here.”

My eyes fixated on his face. “Okay, quit the bullying, Ralph. I’ve been there. We were at the tree as a team. This journey involves you, too, and I need you to stop denying it. If we intend to overcome this thing, we must do it together. Will you help or let it take over?”


Editor: Michelle Naragon


 

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Southern Ways

Southern Ways – Part 8 Southern Ways – Part 10
Tagsghostswitchesserial fictionHistorical MysteryParanormal MysterySouthern Historical FictionSavannah GA
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LC Ahl (Lucy)

Lucy Cafiero, known professionally as LC Ahl, is a published author and senior editor with a career that blends creativity, advocacy, and mentorship. After spending 25 years in the construction industry as a purchasing agent, Lucy pivoted to writing following the 2008 recession and a personal experience with breast cancer in 2003. She has authored three books to date, including One in Eight: A Teen's Guide to Understanding Breast Cancer, the crime thriller The Purple Lily, and Shorts, a collection of short stories, while also contributing to numerous publications in fiction, creative nonfiction, travel, true crime, and political writing. Lucy earned her Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing and English Language and Literature from Southern New Hampshire University in 2017, graduating summa cum laude. She joined Coffee House Writers in 2019, and three years later became a Senior Editor, leading a team of writers and performing developmental edits to help authors strengthen their manuscripts. Her editorial philosophy emphasizes clarity, perseverance, and openness to feedback, supporting writers in crafting impactful fiction and nonfiction. Beyond her professional achievements, Lucy is deeply engaged in her community and advocacy work. She has volunteered with organizations such as Network of Strength, focused on breast-health education, and Renegade Rescue, a dog rescue initiative. She continues to write her own novels, currently working on The Darkest Destination, a continuation of her crime thriller series, while balancing her editorial duties and mentoring emerging writers in the literary field. Lucy lives in Savannah, GA with her husband and two fur babies, Reece and Newman.

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