Discovery
778 Words
The wood was cool beneath my cheek, and for a moment, I let myself pretend it was safe this room, this house, this silence. No yelling. No footsteps hunting me down. Just the whisper of old timber and the faint scent of lavender, dust, and something older still, like dried herbs sealed away in forgotten jars.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep.
But I did.
And when I woke up, the world had shifted.
Not with a jolt, but with that quiet certainty you feel when you wake from a dream and realize you’re not where you used to be. The floor was warm now. A blanket handwoven, mossy green covered my shoulders. Someone had placed it there.
My heart climbed into my throat.
I sat up slowly. The room hadn’t changed. Not really. The same rough walls, same crooked beams. But light was coming in now dim and golden, as though dawn had decided to knock gently instead of burst through. It glinted off glass bottles on a shelf, off copper pots hung neatly by the hearth.
And then I noticed them cracked flower pots by the window, their surfaces chipped and moss-lined, yet still stubbornly alive. Vines trailed lazily from their mouths, curling around the window frame as if trying to reach the light. Purple and pink flowers bloomed defiantly through the cracks, their petals soft and trembling in the breeze that slipped through the wood.
Beside me, a dusty bed leaned slightly against the wall, its quilt faded but carefully folded. It looked like it hadn’t been used in years, yet still waited, as though expecting someone to return.
And then the mirror.
Oval-shaped, hanging just above the bed’s headboard. Its glass was clouded at the edges, age blooming like frost around its frame. But the center was still clear.
I turned.
And for the first time, truly saw myself.
Curly ink-black hair, tangled like wild vines. Pale skin, almost ghostly in the dawn light, marked by faint bruises from yesterday fingertip-shaped, faded but still there like shadows that refused to lift. My eyes caught me off-guard the most..brown ringed in green, like soil swallowing moss. They didn’t look afraid. Just…watchful.
Who is this?
I blinked. She blinked back.
Then I heard it: humming.
Soft. Melodic. Female.
Not a song I knew, but something that made the hairs on my arms rise, like it had been sung to the trees long before I was born.
I should have been afraid.
Instead, I stood.
And followed it.
The humming pulled me like a thread through the cottage door.
Outside, the forest was awake in a way I hadn’t noticed before. The trees stood tall and thick, their bark layered like ancient armor. Moss blanketed the floor like a secret carpet, soft under my bare feet. Light filtered through the branches in golden strips, and I followed them, deeper into the hush.
The humming didn’t stop. If anything, it grew sweeter. Somewhere in it, I began to hear water a soft rush, like silk tearing. Leaves brushed against my arms, vines curled lazily across fallen logs. Nothing felt threatening, and yet my heart beat fast, as if it knew I was approaching something… old.
Then I saw it.
The waterfall.
It poured down from a ledge wrapped in stone and fern, the water so clear I could see fish darting like silver whispers beneath the surface. Mist rose up in shimmering veils, catching the morning light and turning it to glass. For a moment, I forgot everything ,forgot who I was, where I’d come from, how heavy I had felt for so long.
Then
A movement.
To the left of the waterfall, near the gnarled roots of a tree that looked more like a throne, stood something… someone.
Tall. Towering. Limbs long and dark like branches, and from her head fell curtains of wisteria blooms, violet and fragrant, shifting gently even without wind. Her eyes ..almond-shaped and glowing watched me. Not with malice. But with knowing.
I froze.
And then, without speaking, she spoke.
“Do not be afraid, little one.”
The voice bloomed in my mind like a flower opening. It wasn’t loud, but it filled me. Warm. Deep. Timeless.
I stepped back instinctively, but her presence didn’t chase me. It waited.
“I am Wisteria,” she said. “Guardian of this grove. You’ve come far.”
I didn’t answer ..couldn’t. My throat felt full of questions and wonder.
Her glowing eyes softened, or maybe it was just the light. She stepped toward the water, each step leaving blossoms in her wake.
“You are not lost,” she said. “You are arriving.
- Writer
