The Not-a-Chapter
Far to the south and a long way from all that’s good is a place that, luckily, few people have ever had the misfortune to visit. It’s a bitter place, a tall and craggy mountain, resting at the very edge of the inhabitable earth. A bleak and barren landscape, nothing grows there save for the blackfrost berries whose bushes huddle in hidden spaces, and the creeping wintertide vines, heavy with sour pods, which thrive in shadow – savouring the dark.
The mountain is a solitary one, and perched upon its side is a solitary stronghold with a solitary purpose. Built from the same black stone as the mountain, the fortress enjoys near-perfect camouflage. Indeed, the only living creatures to know about it – save for the ones imprisoned inside its walls, plus a handful of well-informed villains – are the rats that take cover from the cold there.
At night, when the sky and everything else turns dark, you can hear two prisoners inside the fortress. In hushed voices, they speak softly to one another, remembering something that happened long ago. Remembering somebody they left behind.
But this story doesn’t take place in the icy stronghold on the desolate mountain. The events of this story happen far, far away from it, on an entirely different continent and in a town where – for now, at least – the sun is beginning to rise, bringing with it the false promise of a perfectly pleasant day. Soon, flocks of broad-winged seabirds will circle in the sky, on the lookout for breakfast, and local fisherfolk will be out on their trawlers, pulling in empty nets with confused looks on their faces.
The town in question is little more than a tumbledown collection of faded-white houses, winding streets and a well-worn wharf, and off its coast rests a rock – a rock that had once been rusty red but which over time turned dull and grey. Inside the rock is a cave, and inside that cave sits a shack, haunted by a ghost made of wax. She’s not alone. Another ghost, this one not made of wax, haunts the shack too, and together the pair share their home with a spider. An extraordinarily large spider.
Until recently, the shack had been home to three Witches too – but not anymore.
Leave a Reply