At The Road's End

Submitted into Contest #264 in response to: End your story with someone saying “I do.”... view prompt

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Fantasy Romance Fiction

Since Aunt Haddie whispered the prophecy into my ear a year ago, its weight has consumed my every thought, leaving me haunted by its profoundness. A dark veil shrouds the world as the night falls, pulling me back to the ancient mansion. Inside, a mysterious ceremony awaits, cloaked in an aura of secrecy.

While not exactly pleasant, the pungent stench of skunk was a relief compared to the noxious odors that filled the air on the ragged, ancient road. It was as though the air was pregnant with the lingering anguish of countless forgotten tragedies, each adding its repugnant fragrance to the unwelcome symphony.

A year spent locked away, surrounded by bubbling cauldrons and whispered incantations, felt more like a curse than a journey of self-discovery. The universe was punishing me for venturing into the mysterious depths of magick and an expectation that involved me. The weight of the prophecy was a burden I couldn't shake off.

As my final test, night after night, I found myself alone on the desolate shore of that cursed island, the crashing waves filling my ears. The stars above were my only companions, their twinkling lights a constant reminder of my profound sense of isolation. The persistent, rhythmic pounding of the nutty crab echoed through the night, intensifying the overwhelming feeling of solitude. I was there until I cried uncle, or until the spirits spoke.

The isolation was becoming unbearable, a heavy burden on my soul, a loneliness I couldn't escape, and a longing for companionship that I couldn't fulfill.

With the relentless wind, the scorching sun kissed my once-pale skin, leaving me with a deep, bronzed tan. My goal was to fully immerse myself in the lifestyle of our ancestors, relishing the peaceful solitude and eagerly yearning for echoes of the past. Despite the harsh conditions, I was determined to endure and succeed.

I wondered if Aunt Haddie was trying to drive me mad until I finally heard them. The voices were soft, barely more than ghostly whispers at first. The echoes were just fragments of words, unintelligible murmurs. Was I losing my grip on reality? The fear of losing my sanity was becoming worrisome, and I couldn't shake it off.

In the distance, the clouds flickered with lightning-like they were stirring from a deep sleep. As the storm approached, my flimsy lean-to trembled under the increasing force of the wind. The ominous purple flashes filled the air, evoking memories of Uncle Harold's mysterious contraptions in the dimly lit basement. I think he was the eccentric in the family, always coming up with wild ideas. One morning, we discovered his lifeless body on the cold, concrete floor of the dimly lit basement.

Now, it was my chance to hear what Uncle Harold had to say. I couldn't help but wonder if he was one of the ghosts haunting the old mansion, his presence adding a sinister layer to the already mysterious atmosphere.

With a gust of wind, the damp air came alive as embers from the fire danced and flickered, casting a ghostly, ever-changing spectacle in the starless night. The waves relentlessly pounded against the jagged rocks, thunderous crashes echoing vengefully.

It was time. The time has arrived to assume my rightful position within our group and uphold the enduring legacy faithfully transmitted from generation to generation. With the ability to dematerialize like a ghost, Haddie left a lasting legacy that defied belief. Her power was not just a concept; it was something you could feel, almost like a physical presence, proving the actual depth of our heritage. That same power was within my grasp.

At that moment, I had to believe despite the overwhelming uncertainty. It was as if magick flowed through my very being, reminding me of the birthright I possessed.

As I prepared to take on this new role, I could feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. I knew that I had inherited the power and responsibility of those who had come before me, and the moment had arrived to brave the stormy ocean and capricious wind, to stand firm against the powers that aimed to dismantle me and take hold of my spirit.

It was time to become one with the waves, to feel the salty mist on my face and let the rhythmic crashing of the ocean fuel my spirit.

The influence of their expectations settled heavily on my shoulders, their ethereal eyes following my every move like the oppressive heat of a sweltering summer day.

But at that moment, as the wind howled through the trees and the waves crashed upon the shore, I knew I had the strength and courage to face whatever lay ahead.

Standing before the fire, I could feel its flickering flames caressing my bare skin, making my nakedness inconsequential. The rhythmic movements of my shadow created an illusion of ancestral spirits gracefully performing a ceremonial dance.

"Now, Samantha," the elder's voice seemed to echo through the night, a ghostly whisper that carried the weight of a thousand years of wisdom and power. "Claim your place."

My words were meaningless to any living soul who could have heard them. They were meant for the spirits. The embers transformed into fireflies, their ethereal glow illuminating the night as if to defy the previous darkness. The once roaring fire transformed into the gentle glow of my headlights, guiding me through the darkness and creating a sense of familiarity as if I had never been away from home.

It felt as though the world had undergone a metamorphosis, its surroundings twisting and distorting in a manner that resembled a hallucination. The scent of skunk hung heavily in the air, intermingling with a lingering sense of fear, as if the magick had marked the atmosphere under my control.

My eyes locked on the road ahead. I could feel the weight of the darkness lifting, the crushing gravity of the night fading away as if it had never existed. It was as if I had somehow stepped outside the boundaries of the world I knew as if I had entered a realm where anything was possible, where the power of my heritage was more than just a flickering cinder but a raging inferno that could consume everything in its path.

My mind raced with thoughts of the road ahead and the future before me while the wind rushing through the open windows filled the car with a sense of freedom and adventure. Stepping into this new dominion felt like a second chance at life, a realm where I could shape my destiny into anything I desired.

My thoughts drifted to Haddie. What about Aunt Haddie? Who was she? She was only called aunt out of courtesy. She didn’t resemble any family. I knew she loved me, but what was her fascination with me as a mortal? Would she remove my clothes with her wicked magick, as she had done so many times before? Would she insist on the power of her weed before we talked about what had happened to me?

My car lurched to a stop before I hit the gate. Silence took the place of the noise from the engine as it died a final death. Headlights dimmed as they cast a banded shadow on the grounds ahead of the road's end. The weathered old trees stood like sentinels, their twisted branches reaching out toward me as if trying to warn me away from the darkness that lay just beyond the reach of my headlights. The gate, like a fortress, towered above me. Its ancient, rusted metalwork was a testament to the power and the magick that had once coursed through this place, just as it now flowed through my veins.

The sound of crows filled the air, their collective cawing reminiscent of the haunting cry of an owl, almost as if they were forewarning me about my inheritance. Yes, I would now be the lab owner where Harold met his untimely end. Would it overpower and consume me just as it did him? The mansion would be my castle, a sanctuary where I could immerse myself in the fragrant garden or engage in playful pursuits with the bustling wildlife on the grounds.

What about Haddie and her garden, the one that smelled of skunks? Would I learn her ways with her leaves of illusions or her buds of the bizarre? She raised the phantom's herb, cultivated in the gardens of the otherworldly, under the watchful eyes of the moon's ghostly glow. Would I learn to kill the males? Is this why she loved me so?

As the blood moon ascended, its tall shadows loomed over me, tearing me between embracing my future and fleeing in terror. The darkness stretched endlessly as if the world had succumbed to the power pulsing within me, transporting me to a realm of infinite possibilities and boundless potential.

I filled my lungs before waving my hand to the invisible guards. I would consent to the shadowy powers that gave all things living a soft glow and aura. The flow of magick was mine to control.

The creaking, groaning hinges yielded to the pressure from the unseen force. The haunting howl of the wolves, the eerie cackle of the crows, and the flapping of bat wings didn't faze me.

My headlights vanished, leaving me in the night's shadows and supernatural silence.

The moment I crossed the threshold, an unexpected and tingling sensation washed over me, leaving me bewildered and intrigued.

Instantly, my clothes, Mercedes, and everything I owned disappeared. It was like I had become invisible, no longer belonging to this world. With each step I took on the damp soil, the weight of my upcoming ceremony seemed to increase, amplifying its importance.

The path to the mansion was lined with a beguiling scent, the signature fragrance of Aunt Haddie's enchanted weed. This was not your average marijuana; the smell lingering in the air was reminiscent of a skunk's odor. Since my last visit, the land had transformed, and the torches lining the sconces flickered with a fiery glow as if they eagerly anticipated my arrival.

"How did you find the island, my dear?”

Inhaling sharply, I was startled to see Aunt Haddie materialize like a vision, emerging mysteriously from the air. Unlike all the years past, she walked through the world in her most vulnerable state, completely naked. I smiled, knowing that it was usually only me who basked in the ethereal glow of the moonlight, feeling like a forgotten sculpture captivating the gaze of passersby.

"Are we advocates for body positivity and the right to be comfortable in our skin?" The question hung in the air like a lingering spirit, and I couldn't resist asking it.

Haddie smiled before speaking. “Darling, after a month on that island, I thought you might appreciate not being alone, all nude and such. Look how lovely you appear without that ghost-white appearance, much like that alabaster statue on the front lawn by the gate.”

Memories flooded my mind, bringing me back to the statue that had left a lasting impression on me during my youth. The artist truly captured the essence of the subject with meticulous precision. Every goose pimple, every wart was recreated with perfect clarity.

The expression on her face was unreadable, a combination of sheer terror and confusion. These days, it seemed like vines and bird poop had become a makeshift wardrobe for her.

“What is the story of her? Who was she?”

 Haddie cackled much more like I remember her from years past.

"That's not a statue," she admitted, her voice filled with a sinister chill. “Aunty Margeret was upset with the whole spiritual business of the family she married into. Like Lott's wife, she was sternly warned that there was no turning back. Instead of salt, she is alabaster. Still want to know more about what you are signing up for during this most auspicious occasion?"

Dead men tell no tales. I thought

I swallowed hard at the thought of becoming a perch for birds.

Again, I inhaled, calming myself and preparing for what would come. "I'm here, captivated by the echoes of our people's words, feeling the potent magick stir inside me," I said as I dressed us in ethereal white gowns that billowed around us like angelic robes, contrasting the darkness of hell.

“White?”

“White. Still a virgin, as if you didn’t know.”

The charm of her giggle was much better than her usual cackle.

When I entered the mansion, I immediately felt the weight of the air increase, creating an overwhelming atmosphere. The sounds of the spirits grew louder, their voices melding into an ethereal chant that echoed through the halls. Haddie led me deeper into the mansion's heart, her eyes never leaving mine.

The air was thick with the murmurs of hundreds, nay, thousands of restless spirits. They swirled around, whispering and hissing, preparing for a ceremony. I glanced at Haddie, her eyes glowing with a sinister light, as she handed me a strange device.

"Sample this," she commanded, her voice dripping with benevolence. "It's my latest horticultural concoction."

The bowl, resembling a modern-day cauldron, released a gentle stream of smoke as I took a deep breath.

I hesitated, my mind racing with questions and fears. The spirits had taken form. I pointed at the apparitions before us. "Family reunion?" I whispered.

Haddie's lips curled into a wicked smile. "In a manner of speaking, yes," she said, her voice cold as ice. "But not the kind you're thinking of." "They are preparing for an ancient ritual," she explained, her voice barely audible over the din. "A ritual that has not been performed in centuries.”

Haddie continued, her voice hypnotizing. "The ritual requires the sacrifice of a pure soul, a soul untainted by darkness. You, my dear friend, are that soul."

Her cold and unfeeling eyes bore into mine, trapping me in the inescapable ceremony foretold by the undeniable prophecy.

The tradition, deeply rooted in ancient times, transported them back to an era when darkness ruled. The rituals were performed with such precision that every movement seemed choreographed. Their purpose was to appease the dark forces and shield the world from their relentless wrath, entrusting the magick to only a select few.

One last taste of her concoction left me in such a state I no longer cared what the spirits had in mind. I didn’t care what Haddie was up to. As strangely as one might think, I welcomed it.

I heard laughter leave my body as I flew into the vortex of souls to become one with the past, present, and future. Much like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, it was finally my time to undergo a profound change. A gnawing emptiness begged for fulfillment in the deepest recesses of my soul.

While locking my gaze on Haddie, I could almost touch the invisible threads of the voracious emptiness, reaching out to her, craving her knowledge and the love she had to offer.

An indescribable wave of joy that consumed my entire being overcame me. The visions that unfolded were a breathtaking display of cosmic beauty, stretching from the farthest corners of the universe to the sacred earth beneath our feet.

That fateful night, I was granted a glimpse into the labyrinthine corridors of my existence. Each decision I had ever made was held aloft, as if on cue, for my judgment and evaluation. The ghostly presence of the spirits who had so often steered my course was intense, their wisdom bearing upon me like the weight of ages.

Even the lapses in judgment that had marred my journey, most notably those of the erstwhile companion of my youth that the family disapproved of seemed to shimmer in the twilight hours between the climax of the night and the first faint rays of morning light.

The sun's golden rays caressed the horizon, enveloping me in a love I had long tried to elude. Instead of that love, I had sought solace in the empty interactions of my work and the hollow smiles of the people who filled my world, their lives as superficial as the glossy sheen on their manicured nails.

Our bodies were damp, the moisture from the dew-laden grass beneath us clinging to our skin like a lover's embrace. Surprisingly, there was no chill despite the early morning hour. It felt as if the surroundings were infused with a comforting warmth. "How can this be?" I whispered, hardly daring to breathe for fear that the moment would shatter like a fragile glass beneath my feet.

Haddie's gaze traveled up the statue beside us, taking in every intricate detail before finally meeting my eyes with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

"My dear," she began, her voice a whisper that seemed to carry on the wind, "there can be no turning back from this moment onwards. Each day and night that lies ahead of us will reflect the one that has just passed, a testament to the boundless nature of our love. Our magick will become one. Do you accept this life?"

I glanced at Aunty Margaret and then gazed around the lush garden, the bees busying themselves with their tireless work, the crows chasing the ancient owl away from its sanctuary, and the weight of her words settled down upon my heart. And then, as I looked into the eyes of the one who loved me more than life itself, I knew that there was nothing I wanted more than to be a part of the world that Haddie had created, a world where love had no boundaries and no limitations, a world where the very essence of our souls was forever intertwined. With a whisper, I spoke the words, "I do." 

August 18, 2024 03:39

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8 comments

Christina Miller
21:24 Aug 28, 2024

Your imagery is wonderful, and you paint a brilliant story. There were a few places where you might have went from past to present tense unintentionally (or maybe it was on purpose, given the dream-like setting). But all in all, this was great!

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Scott Taylor
03:05 Aug 29, 2024

Thanks, Christina! Haddie and Samantha are turning into a novel, and as of this moment, I have written 40K words into it. Stay tuned for a release date; I am pushing to release it before Halloween.

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13:57 Aug 24, 2024

There's a dreamscape like essence to this story...very otherworldly. Well done with the prose to create that feeling. Samantha is an interesting character with a strong voice. Id read more of her stories:)

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Scott Taylor
18:11 Aug 24, 2024

Hey Derrick, Thanks for the feedback. Guess what? I am 29k words into a new novel with...wait for it...Samantha as The Chosen Spellcaster. Thanks again for the comment.

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Mary Bendickson
15:52 Aug 21, 2024

Beautifully written though has a sinister feeling.

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Scott Taylor
18:15 Aug 21, 2024

Thanks Mary! Haddie is a little nuts. After so many have commented on those characters I started a book with these two characters in it. Referencing the witch trials and bringing it forward has given me a modern-day antagonist. Stay tuned ...

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Anna W
05:26 Aug 18, 2024

I loved all of your descriptions. You made this ethereal world seem real. This line was so great: “It was as though the air was pregnant with the lingering anguish of countless forgotten tragedies, each adding its repugnant fragrance to the unwelcome symphony.“ Sets up the story to be haunting, beautiful, and even a bit sinister! Thanks for sharing this story.

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Scott Taylor
17:11 Aug 18, 2024

That's what happens when you are in the zone. LOL. It was about 3 a.m., and I couldn't stop writing. Thanks for the comment. Feedback assists me in being the best that I can be.

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