Chapter 3

            Faith awoke with a start in the middle of the night. The house was utterly still, the room nearly black, lit only by the light of the moon through the screen of trees that blocked her window. Faith struggled to sit up, hampered by the heavy quilts layered on top of her, weighing her down. At last she was erect, sitting atop her pillow with the quilt scrunched up at the foot of the bed, hugging her knees to her chin.

            She was sure that she’d heard it. She was a deep sleeper; how else could she have woken? Typically, even the stormiest of nights could not awaken her. From time to time, an especially outrageous one did wake her, but this was no storm, she was sure. The moon still shone clear and bright behind the lace of needles of the old fir tree, and the air was still and hot. Silence. No pattering of water dripping from the gutter onto the ground. No swish of rain running down the pipes. And barking, from the manor next door. Their neighbor was infuriatingly meticulous about his pets; he would never allow his dogs to set so much as a paw in a puddle.

            So it wasn’t rain. But she had heard it for sure. A deep rumbling, like a lion’s roar that only reached its throat, but never burst out in the real thing. Just a growling from deep inside, contained but very powerful. So powerful that Faith had felt her mattress vibrate under her skin - at first she thought that it must be a cold night and she was shivering, but then she realized that she wasn’t the only one moving; everything trembled uncontrollably; the picture frames on her wall swung from side to side; her lamps and vases walked across the quivering tables and made a terrific clamor with their clanks and cracks. It had only lasted a few moments, and Faith had been rather groggy - still half-asleep, in fact.

            It must’ve only been a figment of my imagination, Faith thought. She had always had something her father liked to call an “overactive mind” when he was still alive. Now, after his death nearly a year ago, Faith longed for him, wanted him back. He would comfort her, soothe her racing heart, and tell her that she had just had an especially vivid dream of an earthquake. Nothing real.

            Go back to sleep, Faith, she almost heard him saying. It’s not real. No big deal.

            But suddenly there it was again. The monstrous rumbling, vibrating from deep, deep down. It was so unexpected, she nearly jumped right out of her skin. Faith thought it was as if the very earth was splitting apart from the inside-out.

            She had no idea just how right she was.

*       *       *

            Grace felt the tremor, too.

            She had just reached the heart of the garden when the first quake struck. After several minutes of meandering down the cobbles, she had found her way down to the spot where the morning glory lay. It had taken much longer than Grace had anticipated; in the eerie moonlight, everything seemed to morph into a completely new layout, and she’d had trouble finding her way around. Several times she took a wrong turn, confused by the half-light of the moon, and had to backtrack all the way back to the start of the path. The cobbles were slick underfoot; even sure-footed Grace slipped many a time into the thick mud under the shrubbery.

            At last, a little bedraggled but very wide awake, Grace found her way to the little widening in the pathway. It was a little circle of stones, enclosed by a ring of brightly colored geraniums. Faith had been pruning these flowers this morning, Grace recalled. Looking over the bushes to her right, Grace could just about see the white fence where the morning glories grew. They all looked very magical in the moonlight; the moon bore a pearly sheen over the deep indigo, and each petal looked startlingly brilliant against the grayer shades of green and brown around them. Gazing at the vine of mystical-looking flowers, Grace nearly convinced herself that the flower she had come to seek was just as ordinary as the rest. It was only a trick of the light, an optical illusion in her eyes.

            But Grace felt, at the pit of her stomach, that she was lying to herself.

            When Grace returned her gaze to the circle of stones, she was nearly blinded by a sudden bright light. At least, it seemed very bright, in comparison to the impenetrable darkness around her. Grace gasped, taken aback. She whirled and jerked away, eyes squeezed shut. Slowly she let her eyelids flutter up, still protecting the pupils from the light with fingers splayed over her eyes.

            The morning glory was glowing. Not just a little luminous, like the pearly lust of the morning glories growing on the fence, but casting out real, pure beams of light out from its ivory center. Rays of blue-tinged light flowed out and lit up the circle of stones. Each stone seemed to take on a new color; reds and greens and yellows and violets. The geraniums appeared to draw back and fade away; their bright flowers dulled and shriveled up.

            And then Grace realized it with a start. The morning glory was floating. Drifting a full two inches above the ground. It slowly began righting itself to stand straight upright, petals turned upwards. Then, ever so slowly, it began to shift towards the center of the circle. Grace’s eyes were locked on its every movement. She couldn’t tear herself away. Its drifting was so smooth and fluent… so hypnotizing…

            Then it reached the center. Slowly, so slowly that at first the change was imperceptible, the flower grew.

            And grew.

            And grew…

            And Grace could do nothing to stop it.

            Gradually but steadily it enlarged, petals thickening and broadening, violet deepening, growing taller and wider by the second. The intensity of its light grew as the flower itself grew. The light was blindingly white and concentrated.

            And the flower kept growing.

            Soon it took up nearly half the circle. Grace was afraid that it would swallow her up - and then it stopped.

            It was absolutely beautiful. So colossal and so delicate at the same time, ever so fine and stunningly brilliant. Grace knew in an instant that this flower was nothing like the innocent little blossoms that clung to the white fence a few yards away. But it certainly wasn’t an instrument of evil. That much was obvious; the way that it glowed so luminously with its beautiful light, the feeling of bliss that it radiated - this was an implement of good. Grace couldn't tear her eyes away from it. She felt - so good - in its light… it washed over her, and seeped through her skin…

            That was when the rumbling began. It escalated from a little growl to a massive, ear-splitting one. The very soil and rocks beneath Grace’s feet shook violently, throwing her to the ground. She lay flat on her belly, hands clamped over her ears. Eventually it passed, but Grace was still wary when she found her feet and pushed herself up once more.

            The light of the morning glory seemed to be weakening. It struggled and pulsed and flickered. Grace held her breath, willing the light to live… and it did. It eventually recovered itself and continued to pour out its lovely light, though it was clear that its power was very much weakened. Grace basked in the light for several minutes, eyes closed and head cocked back.

            Relax, her heart thudded. Relax.

            But then another rumble came. This time it didn’t catch her off guard; immediately she dropped to the ground and covered her ears.

            But this time the quaking didn’t stop.

            It grew.

            Grace's heart was stabbed with fear. She never liked frights, and this one was far too horrific for her comfort. 

It's just a dream, she told herself. A dream...

Grace wished she had brought Faith down after all; she would be brave and daring in a moment like this. 

The rumbling intensified a thousand fold. 

Grace was being tossed back and forth on the ground, battered by the rough stones and bricks - and then the night erupted into chaos.

Reviews

[Artiste de Mots]

This is a unique and intriguing writing. You are amazing at keeping people hooked. I can't wait to read on!

[Jasmine Thousand]

And grew.

And grew…

And Grace could do nothing to stop it.
That was a spark of genius.

Really great chapter! Can't wait to read the next one!!!

~*Jasmine Thousand~*

[JadeForever]

great chapter..i wonder what happens next..