Return to Champagne Falls

(Story contains/curse words)

Fiona tried her best not to think as she drove her rickety rental car towards Champagne Falls at a speed that was all together inadvisable. She cursed the familiar roads, the pouring rain, and most of all the unsettling quiet that followed her no matter how quickly she drove. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel until her knuckles shone white and she let out a frustrated sigh. No matter how hard she tried she could not escape the worry that plagued her. The town of Champagne Falls was and always had been her grandmother's home. Her grandmother, Grace Farrow with her brilliant intellect and unshakable confidence. She was well loved by the townsfolk, and an absolute pillar of the community. Fiona and her brother Ferris used to spend every summer in Champagne Falls. It had been her favorite time of the year. The town had felt like magic, and with unlimited time with her grandmother it had quickly become her whole world. Until it all came crashing down eight years ago on her fifteenth birthday. Every year since, Ferris and her grandmother would attempt to lure her back, becoming more and more desperate with each year that passed. Every year she had an excuse. Too busy with school, backpacking through Europe, starting a new job. It didn't matter what the excuse was as long as she was far from Champagne Falls. Until now. Now at the age of twenty three she raced towards Champagne Falls as if the devil himself were in her rearview mirror.

It had all started two weeks ago when she'd received a cryptic voicemail from her brother. Her Brazilian Jiu Jitsu class had gone a little late that day, and consequently she'd missed their weekly call. Wiping the sweat from her brow she played the voicemail expecting light hearted teasing for missing his call and his usual attempts to lure her back to Champagne Falls. But, her expectations couldn't have been further from the truth. His voice came through the phone clearly and filled with alarm. No, not alarm, fear. 

     "Dammit Fi, answer the phone! Listen I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but we need you here in Champagne Falls. Something is wrong. We can't do this on our own. Just call me back okay?" 

Chilled to the bone she had called him back immediately. It had gone straight to voicemail. She did her best to put it out of her mind as she walked home to her studio apartment. Ferris and her grandmother were fine. This was likely just their latest attempt to bring her back to Champagne Falls though she hadn’t thought they’d ever progress from pleading to outright trickery. She went through the rest of her week as she normally would looking forward to scolding her brother for worrying her when they spoke on the phone next. Except he didn’t answer when she called at the end of the week. Or the week after. Her brother was one of the most responsive texters she knew, and yet along with her calls countless texts had gone unanswered. She hadn’t slept last night. As the hours ticked by she had done her best to reaffirm to herself nothing is wrong until it became a mantra in her head repeated over and over. But, she couldn’t escape the whisper in the back of her mind, gradually growing louder and louder with each moment that passed. What if I’m wrong?  And, sure enough by 5am her bags were packed and she was returning to Champagne Falls for the first time in eight years. 

As she pulled into her grandmother’s familiar neighborhood of cutesy cottages and brightly painted mailboxes it was hard to believe that things could be so similar yet so different. It looked exactly the same from the beautiful gardens throughout the neighborhood to the cracks in the pavement to the crispness of the air. If she let her mind drift she could almost hear her brother laughing as he chased her down the street, smell her grandmother’s freshly baked strawberry pie, feel the hot summer sun beating down on her back. And, yet she hadn’t stepped foot here since she was fifteen years old. Everything should be different, but instead it felt like a living picture of a simpler and better time. Perhaps it was only her who had changed. Bracing herself she turned the corner leading to her grandmother’s street and once again reaffirmed to herself that everything was fine. Her brother had simply outsmarted her this year, and she would kick his ass for it when she saw him. 

The moment she saw her grandmother’s house she knew she had been wrong. The beautiful stone walls and familiar jungle of a garden were now decorated with bright yellow caution tape. The little cottage was abandoned and her brother’s car was nowhere in sight. This place where she’d played with her brother, gardened with her grandmother, and stargazed late into the night  was as familiar to her as her own home even after all these years. And, now it was nothing more than a crime scene. The savageness of the change tore the breath from her lungs. In one moment Fiona was sitting in the car and in the next she was sprinting up the stone path towards the front door with her pulse hammering in her ears. What the hell had happened? Moments before her fingers closed around the door handle a stern voice called out behind her.

“Excuse me? Ma’am this is an active crime scene. I’m sorry, but you can’t be here.” When Fiona turned around she was met with a police officer in his early thirties. He had brown eyes and curly blonde hair that poked out from under his police cap. He looked tired. So, it was true. Her grandmother’s cottage really had become a crime scene. But, Champagne Falls had one of the lowest recorded crime rates in the state. What could have possibly happened here? And, where was her grandmother and brother? Fiona’s fingers shook, but she forced herself to remain calm as she faced the police officer. Champagne Falls almost never saw violent crime. Someone must’ve broken into the house. Her brother and grandmother were probably already at the police station for questioning.

“This is my grandmother’s house. What happened here?” Her voice came out strained and sounded too loud even to her own ears. An expression of surprise came across the officer’s face, his brows furrowing.

“Grandmother? You’re Grace Farrow’s granddaughter?”

“Yes. I’m Fiona Farrow. Can you please tell me where my grandmother and brother are?” Fiona asked impatiently. If this officer was supervising the crime scene surely he must have spoken to one of them. At her name an oddly blank expression came across the police officer’s face.

“Fiona Farrow. You shouldn’t be here.” The officer spoke clearly in an uncomfortably calm voice. Her temper rose at his dismissal.

“Look. I understand that this is an active crime scene, but you need to tell me what’s happened to my grandmother!” The expression on the officer’s face shifted from unnervingly blank to something far worse. A strangely soft combination of sadness and guilt that made her feel nauseous. A look that she would later know to be pity.

“I’m sorry Ms. Fiona, but Grace Farrow is dead.”