wool.
She opened her eyes and saw two Tabitha’s in her line of vision. Her legs crumbled beneath her. Her hand reached for the rail again but the floor rushed closer to her face. The final thought to go through her head was how much it would hurt when her face connected with wood. Wood didn't cushion bone, it crunched.
Before her face hit wood she felt a strong arm slide around her waist holding her up. She leant into the body as Tabitha guided her to the only table. Grabbing the cup as soon as she sat, she took big gulps of the hot drink trying to push away the huge lump lodged in her throat. T he sting of scolding water made her mouth numb. She repositioned the cup in her hand which made it throb painfully.
“I think I killed Jack, the boy who was at the shop yesterday.”
Panic rose in her throat as she said it making her voice squeak at the end. He couldn't be dead, the dead didn't... they didn't do what he was. Her breath came in small uncontrollable gasps. She could feel another panic attack charging forward to take a hold of her. The high pitched laugh startled her. She looked at Tabitha, shocked. Not one part of this was bloody funny. Nothing made sense to her, the wind and its laughter. Her life was crumbling into one big confusing mess.
Before she could stop it, anger fuelled every cell in her already aching body. The wind howled outside bashing up against the closed shop door.
“Enough of that!” Tabitha snapped. “You don’t need to conjure the wind every time you get angry.”
She gasped. What had she just said?
“I suspect you want answers?”
Had Tabitha said that she was controlling the wind? That wasn’t possible. No one controlled the wind. It controlled itself. Laughter danced around her almost like it was contradicting that very thought.
“Yesterday, your mother came to me, she was upset because we both knew as soon as the weather changed and the storm built that something had happened. I know, have seen firsthand, that we can get four different seasons in one day but the storm you created was beyond that. Just one moment,” Tabitha murmured as she stood and left the room heading down the staircase.
Her mother had come here in a panic? When? Tabitha drifted effortlessly up the stairs carrying a big blue book covered in a sheet of dust.
“Wh-what has happened to my mother?” she stammered.
Tabitha looked at her, confusion making her eyebrows collide. “As far as I know nothing has happened.”
“She’s not home. She was but then she left and didn’t tell me where she was going.”
“Perhaps she needed time alone. She will be at home when you get back, I’m sure.”
“You don’t know that. She could be anywhere. You don’t know me or my mother.”
“Cora, I know you better than you know yourself. I've spent the better part of my life protecting you.”
Tabitha held her gaze, her reply was lost somewhere on route to her mouth. Breaking contact, Cora looked at the book that Tabitha had placed on the table. Gold looping letters were etched on the front of the leather bound book. She jerked away as the book flipped open and the pages starting flapping erratically. As suddenly as they had started, they stopped.
An eerie silence filled the shop. She moved as close as she dare to the archaic book, the epitome of this shop, and peered at the exposed page. It was blank.
“That is your page, Cora.”
She almost laughed. Her fear and anger were now a past memory, this whole situation was ludicrous.
“The page is blank because your path is yet to be written, this page will fill with important everyday events you experience. When you look through the book you will read about the members of your family. Your mother came up with this ingenious idea, she wanted you to be able to look back and read about your family. It had never been done at the time and it has never been done since.”
“I’m
She opened her eyes and saw two Tabitha’s in her line of vision. Her legs crumbled beneath her. Her hand reached for the rail again but the floor rushed closer to her face. The final thought to go through her head was how much it would hurt when her face connected with wood. Wood didn't cushion bone, it crunched.
Before her face hit wood she felt a strong arm slide around her waist holding her up. She leant into the body as Tabitha guided her to the only table. Grabbing the cup as soon as she sat, she took big gulps of the hot drink trying to push away the huge lump lodged in her throat. T he sting of scolding water made her mouth numb. She repositioned the cup in her hand which made it throb painfully.
“I think I killed Jack, the boy who was at the shop yesterday.”
Panic rose in her throat as she said it making her voice squeak at the end. He couldn't be dead, the dead didn't... they didn't do what he was. Her breath came in small uncontrollable gasps. She could feel another panic attack charging forward to take a hold of her. The high pitched laugh startled her. She looked at Tabitha, shocked. Not one part of this was bloody funny. Nothing made sense to her, the wind and its laughter. Her life was crumbling into one big confusing mess.
Before she could stop it, anger fuelled every cell in her already aching body. The wind howled outside bashing up against the closed shop door.
“Enough of that!” Tabitha snapped. “You don’t need to conjure the wind every time you get angry.”
She gasped. What had she just said?
“I suspect you want answers?”
Had Tabitha said that she was controlling the wind? That wasn’t possible. No one controlled the wind. It controlled itself. Laughter danced around her almost like it was contradicting that very thought.
“Yesterday, your mother came to me, she was upset because we both knew as soon as the weather changed and the storm built that something had happened. I know, have seen firsthand, that we can get four different seasons in one day but the storm you created was beyond that. Just one moment,” Tabitha murmured as she stood and left the room heading down the staircase.
Her mother had come here in a panic? When? Tabitha drifted effortlessly up the stairs carrying a big blue book covered in a sheet of dust.
“Wh-what has happened to my mother?” she stammered.
Tabitha looked at her, confusion making her eyebrows collide. “As far as I know nothing has happened.”
“She’s not home. She was but then she left and didn’t tell me where she was going.”
“Perhaps she needed time alone. She will be at home when you get back, I’m sure.”
“You don’t know that. She could be anywhere. You don’t know me or my mother.”
“Cora, I know you better than you know yourself. I've spent the better part of my life protecting you.”
Tabitha held her gaze, her reply was lost somewhere on route to her mouth. Breaking contact, Cora looked at the book that Tabitha had placed on the table. Gold looping letters were etched on the front of the leather bound book. She jerked away as the book flipped open and the pages starting flapping erratically. As suddenly as they had started, they stopped.
An eerie silence filled the shop. She moved as close as she dare to the archaic book, the epitome of this shop, and peered at the exposed page. It was blank.
“That is your page, Cora.”
She almost laughed. Her fear and anger were now a past memory, this whole situation was ludicrous.
“The page is blank because your path is yet to be written, this page will fill with important everyday events you experience. When you look through the book you will read about the members of your family. Your mother came up with this ingenious idea, she wanted you to be able to look back and read about your family. It had never been done at the time and it has never been done since.”
“I’m
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