The Prophecy of Shadows

The air crackles with unnatural energy the moment I step into this place, as if the veil between worlds is thinning just for me. Shadows twist and writhe along the wooded path, their cold, unseen eyes tracking my every move. The whispers in the wind and the flicker of the dying fire speak of secret-hidden truths that send a shiver down my spine. Each step toward the old mansion feels like stepping deeper into the unknown, where the line between the living and the dead vanishes.

No one else sees it; they say I'm imagining things and need to chill. Ha, as if!

This visit will surprise me this time, rating a ten plus on the spooky-as-shit scale.

I was twelve years old, teetering on the edge of that treacherous precipice known as adolescence, when I first heard the calling. The wind howled through the tall pines, causing the curtain to dance above my bed like a ghostly waltz. I awoke to find a glowing apparition at the foot of my bed, staring at me with eyes that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand untold stories.

Her form was hazy, like a half-remembered dream, but her presence was undeniable. I could feel the energy radiating off her, a pulsating force that seemed to resonate with the very core of my being. And as I stared back at her, I knew my life would never be the same.

The whispers of the wind seemed to grow louder and more insistent as if they were trying to tell me something, to warn me of the darkness that lay just beyond the veil. I could feel the shadows creeping in, their icy fingers reaching to claim me as their own.

I hear her voice as if she were mortal. “Next year, we will celebrate your thirteenth birthday together. When you return, I will show you your heritage and tell you what is coming. Be prepared to embrace your destiny.”

The hazy ghost grew clearer. A figure stood alone, her long hair billowing in the wind like a dark cape. She was dressed in a flowing white gown, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight. Her eyes were closed, and her face was upturned towards the heavens as if she were listening to some unseen force.

Sitting on my bed, I could feel the hair on the back of my neck standing up. There was something about her that sent chills down my spine. She seemed so familiar, yet I knew I had never met her.

"Who are you?" I asked.

She opened her eyes slowly, revealing pools of darkness that seemed to swallow me whole. Her gaze was intense as if she were searching for my very soul.

"I am your Aunt Haddie. I am the one who has been waiting for you," she whispered. I am the one who will guide you on your journey." My heart hammered against my ribs as I stared at her, a wave of heat rising in my chest. I wondered about the mysterious woman, whose perfume was a haunting blend of lavender and something exotic, and what her intentions were toward me.

"You have a destiny," she continued. "A destiny that has been passed down through generations. A destiny that you must embrace."

I shook my head, trying to make sense of her words. What could she possibly mean?

"Next year, on your thirteenth birthday, we will celebrate together," she said, her voice more urgent. I stared at her, my mind racing with questions. What did she know about me?

"Be prepared," she warned, her eyes boring into mine. "Embrace your destiny, for it is the only way to survive."

And then, as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone. The wind died down, and the shadows retreated into the darkness. I was alone, my mind reeling from the encounter.

What did she mean? What was my destiny? And why did I feel such a strong connection to this mysterious woman?

I was past the age of running to mommy and daddy. If I told them what happened, they would schedule another appointment with that counselor, who would recommend more pills from that shrinky-dink-doctor. I didn’t need fucking pills. I needed someone to see I wasn't losing it. There is some shit going on, and I need help with it.

I burrowed deep under the soft, warm covers, trying to convince myself it had all been a bad dream. That night, the owls' piercing shrieks and deep hoots echoed through the trees, keeping me awake for hours. The sounds were unsettling, almost primal—a symphony of unseen creatures rustling in the undergrowth. Instead of a rooster's cheerful call, the air was filled with the raucous cries of ravens, their voices unsettling in the quiet forest.

In the cities, the incessant blare of car horns, the wail of sirens, and the roar of motorcycles speeding at 90 mph on the freeway near our house created a constant cacophony. Here on the mountaintop, the woods were alive with the presence of creatures. Other than the call of the ravens, the place was silent as a tomb.

The morning sun cast long, slanted rays that illuminated the wall with a soft, golden glow. I awoke to find a large, glossy raven feather on my pillow next to my head. A cold, weighty gold locket dangled on a thin chain, unnervingly against my skin, as if things weren't unsettling enough.

The locket transcended dreams and nightmares. Her presence last night was undeniable. The locket had a picture of a young, dark-haired girl on one side and a lock of her hair on the other. I later learned that she was sharing some of her magic with me. The piece was symbolic of bridging the gap between us, poking a hole in the veil of life and death.

Aunt Haddie’s presence lingered, manifesting in unsettling dreams of faces, rooms, and objects I couldn't quite place. There were images of mermaids, dragons, and a half-naked man with wings. In my dreams, Aunt Haddie, the giver of the locket, always commanded center stage, her presence as vivid as the locket itself. She was totally setting me up for something.

Closer to my thirteenth birthday, the locket seemed to come alive as I was having a heated moment with a mean girl in PE. She was a nasty twit who was snotty to everyone who was not on the cheer squad.

That day, I realized thoughts aren't passive. Her humiliation far surpassed my expectations. I wanted her to bite her tongue, and she did. Blood filled her mouth; scarlet droplets stained her white blouse. As the blood dripped and she screamed, the locket pressed against my skin, radiating a surprising heat that seemed to mirror the turmoil in my chest. That’s when I knew the locket was more than just a piece of jewelry, and Haddie was no dream. The locket was my entry into some magical world, and Haddie was the key.

The day arrived to head back to the mansion. As we cruised along the winding mountain road, the memory of my thirteenth birthday party seemed like a lifetime ago. Every year, on the first blood moon, our family would gather at the old mansion tucked away in the woods. While the grown-ups played their annual game of Ouija, I was left to my own devices - either with my new Chatty Kathy Doll or a stack of books that weighed down my suitcase.

Little did I know that the uninvited guest from last year's gathering would be waiting for our return.

As we approached the massive iron gate, two ancient trees stood like guardians, watching over the driveway leading to the ominous mansion. With a flick of his wrist, my father entered the secret code that would cause the gates to groan open, revealing the foreboding path that lay before us.

Unlike the previous gatherings, this year's air was filled with an unmistakable, pungent odor—a scent reminiscent of a skunk. It was as if the mansion itself was warning us of the darkness that lurked within its walls.

Rebellious? That's an understatement. The doctor's meds turned me into a stumbling, glassy-eyed zombie - barely able to function. And without them? It was as if a wild gang of squirrels had ransacked my room, shredded my homework, and even invaded my dreams, leading me to believe I'd once had a brush with the supernatural.

I wanted to be as clear-headed as possible before embarking on this trip to the old mansion, determined to dispel the idea of an unseen, spectral aunt that I alone seemed to perceive. My mother, however, couldn't resist teasing me about my so-called "invisible friend." That's why I took more pills - to quell the stories I'd been telling and to convince myself that my mind wasn't playing cruel tricks on me.

As family members greeted us with warm embraces in the grand lobby, I couldn't help but glance towards the library. There, seated at a small table, was the mysterious woman dressed entirely in black. Her hands were folded, resting on a crystal ball that seemed to glow with an eerie light.

“There, there she is. See, she is real,” I exclaimed.

My parents briefly looked at the empty library before my mother fixed her gaze on me. "Have you taken your medicine yet?"

I clenched my jaw, stared at the apparition, and then glanced into her disapproving face. “I’ll do it now.” I lied. I dragged my suitcase up the old staircase to my room, holding my Chatty Kathy doll with my other hand.

I can't explain how I can see and talk with Aunt Haddie while my parents remain oblivious to her presence. She appears as a wisp of gray smoke, her voice echoing in the corners of my mind. Sometimes, she offers comforting words, a soothing balm for my restless soul. Other times, she warns me of the darkness that lies in wait, just beyond the veil.

It's like I've been granted a special gift or a fucking nightmare. It’s either a key that unlocks the door to another realm or a pathway to big pharma. It’s where the spirits of the dead linger, their stories waiting to be told, or it's crazy town, and I get to be one of the loons. I am both a witness and a conduit, a bridge between the living and the dead, or I might as well join them versus being on meds that make me numb as this doll.

Haddie appears a few inches from my face as my nightgown slips over my head. “Don’t do it.”

Inhaling deeply, I am almost nose-to-nose with her. “Fuck, you scared me!”

She laughed, and I could feel her breath on my face. “That’s what I do. I rattle chains, turn doorknobs, and cause doors to creak. Don’t take those meds; they’re poison.”

“I don’t want to take them, but they tell me I have ADH something or other.”

“You’re not nuts, you’re a witch, and I am real. Your problems are hearing voices from beyond the veil, which makes you think you have some issues; you don’t.”

With that, she pushed me backward onto the bed. The springs squeaked with my weight, and she stared at me. “See…real.”

I stood, this time touching her. “I thought ghosts were like vapor.”

“They can be. Listen, you don’t need to be afraid anymore. Please stop talking about me to your parents. While they are downstairs trying to speak to the dead, I am here to tell you that you are the chosen one who holds the key to the future.”

“Dead people… chosen one, Haddie, I am scared.”

She reached for me and embraced me. My nose ended up in her cleavage, and I didn’t care. I hadn't received a genuine hug in years. She was warm and smelled of a strange perfume. “I’m real, and I care about you.”

Tears spilled onto my cheeks as she hugged me once again. She was real.

Haddie went to the window and opened it. I'm into natural remedies and have been trying different herbs. Let the wannabe witches have their Ouija board; let's celebrate your birthday!”

I grinned, “Out the window?”

“Yep, follow me.”

“Let me dress. All I have on is this gown.”

“Don’t bother, we’re going swimming. Would you feel better if I had a gown on, too?”

I smiled, "Yeah, okay."

She sparkled like a bunch of fireflies. And suddenly, BAM! You could practically see through her gown. She was totally real.

“Holy shit, can I do that?”

Haddie nodded, “With practice, yeah.”

Haddie showed me the way out the window, crossing the roof to an old tree. Much like a monkey, Haddie had no trouble traversing the path. On the ground, she encouraged me to put my foot on the limb and climb down. With one foot on the roof and the other on the tree, the wind made the gap much wider, causing me to panic. “I am going to fall!”

“Tiff, ask the tree to help you.”

“You’re kidding.”

She watched me learn my first witchy lesson, shaking her head. “All living things interact with magical beings.”

“Mr. Tree, could you help me out?”

Then, the tree bent down like a staircase so I could climb down. I was so shocked that I almost didn't notice the tree grabbing my gown—Haddie thought that was funny.

Standing barefoot on the ground, I stared at Haddie. “Holy shit.”

"Nope, it's a tree that's into witches. Thank it."

I got all red-faced, smiled, and told the tree, "Thanks a bunch!"

We thought the tree bowed, but maybe it was just the wind.

Haddie let me sample her pot brownies. I could either take Big Pharma drugs or try weed and magic.

What an amazing night!

For the first time in my young life, I had a genuine friend who cared for me.

I had no idea she was from the old country. Later, I learned that Haddie had a shady history with Salem. She was giving me information slowly so I wouldn't freak out.

I felt safe running through that moonlit forest. I ran into the wolf guardians of the mansion, and they were so cool.

I was giggling and asking questions, and suddenly, I was starving! Haddie's snacks were all sweet treats.

Dewy grass, fireflies lighting the path, owls watching—that was just part of the night.

Haddie told me I was destined to be a spellcaster, the Chosen One, according to an ancient prophecy. Someday, I'll see magical creatures fight a massive good vs. evil battle.

I was responsible for gathering the troops and wiping out evil for good.

She said it was true, even though it sounded like a crazy fairytale. Man, I thought she was loaded up on drugs. We were both probably super high.

I sat by the fire to dry off and warm up, and then I zoned out completely, leaving the ghost to watch over me.

Rays of sun carved their way through the curtains. Crows outside made their usual cries as I lay there and tried to wrap my head around the night. I didn’t remember climbing back up the tree, and I didn’t remember how I got into the house. I glanced around the room to see my clothes still on the floor where I had left them. The book I was going to read was still there, untouched. The Chatty Cathy Doll was in the other bed, watching me like a gatekeeper to a realm beyond our own, where darkness and wonder coexisted in a twisted dance of fate.

"Shit, that was quite a dream."

Wrapped in the tangled sheets, I struggled to get free when I heard a sound from the other bed. The Chatty Cathy doll turned its head, blinked, and then spoke.

"Think again, sweety; I would wash your hair before you meet your parents for breakfast. You smell like skunk."

“Fuck, that thing talks without me pulling its string!”

Then the doll let out a cackle, just like a bunch of crows. Haddie's got a wicked sense of humor. I got a creepy feeling when that doll's eyes met mine.

Sunlight flooded the room. That prophecy was real, or I'm completely bonkers.

The doll's voice was eerily calm, devoid of emotion that could be mistaken for sympathy or understanding.

“How did I get back up here?”

“You were so high you flew…how do you think, silly…magic.”

“I feel like shit.”

“I need to work on that strain of pot a little more.”

Haddie possessed my birthday present, so I can't take the creepy doll home.

I wriggled free of the sheets. My woodland night left my feet muddy. Climbing a tree ripped my gown. Snagged on a branch, my gown lifted, amusing Haddie as the fabric ripped.

It was all coming back to me as I flipped the light on in the bathroom. I saw my reflection looking back at me - pale face, bloodshot eyes, proof of my night with the herbalist.

Facing an impossible decision, it felt like the world was against me. I looked out the bathroom window at the woods, still thinking about what Haddie said about dragons.

I grabbed the zombie pills and Haddie's herbs. Which one do I trust? Do I toss them or gulp them down? I heard the ghost laugh, and for a second, I wondered if I'd lost my mind. I opened the bottle and swallowed.

"Let the magic consume me," I muttered.

The world began to blur and fade away. I stumbled back, losing my balance, and as I tumbled into the void, I prayed dragons existed somewhere.