Finch the Fae (special preview)

Up on a hill, hidden by maple trees, was an old cottage. The place had been in your family for ages, and countless summers had been spent there. Repairs and renovations had taken place countless times since you were young, but the place still maintained the same feeling and isolation it always had. Even now as ivy grew over the mesh of the screened in porch, creating a whole new room to itself, the place felt like that hidden oasis you loved as a kid.

“I don’t remember my back hurting so much from the car trip though,” you told your mother over the phone. You had to give her the report you made it there alive, and hopefully your signal would remain strong.

You went through the cottage, inspecting old rooms and reminiscing about what had taken place in each one. As you went to the back porch you saw the peaks of the Green House over the foliage.

“Yeah, I brought enough food to last me while I’m here. If not, the Old Mercantile probably still sells overpriced canned soup.” You huffed. “Don’t worry Mom. I’m probably safer in the wild than anywhere at college. At least I know if I piss off a wild animal it’s probably my fault.”

The Green House was a mansion hidden amongst the countryside where your family cottage was located. It was hidden up a hill, but as children you and some cousins had found a path connecting your cottage to the house. It was a game of seeing who could sneak closer to the empty mansion, as you all concocted the idea it was haunted. The old weathervane on top of the Green House twisted and then a breeze came fluttering towards you.

“I should be able to get this thesis done by the end of the month,” you said as your eyes focused on the twisting of that weathervane. “Well, I have to get it done before then. Don’t really have a choice on due dates.” You went back inside the house, wandering back towards your bags.

“I’ve gotta unpack, I’ll call you later.” You hung up the phone and phone, looking around the old place, sunbleached pictures on the wall unchanged even after so many years.

You took out your camera, deciding to go ahead and take some pictures so you could get working right away the following morning. Your thesis for school was going to be a collection of watercolors all focused on the local wildlife and vegetation. It also so happened that an art block had hit you a few weeks back. So life was a struggle at the moment.

The backyard was a bit overgrown, perfect at least for what you needed. You took pictures of the trees, wild flowers, and managed to get a few bugs while you were at it. As you were going through the footage, you noticed towards the back of the yard, where the picket fence had been taken over by vines and tall grass, a glimpse at what could be a hole.

You turned towards the location, seeing the wind blow through the grass and open up around the escape route.

“No way, it’s still there!” You knelt down before the fence, pulling away weeds and grass to see the entrance you and your cousins took to the Green House. You could even make out the path still worn into the earth.

You eyed it with awe, having expected it all to have vanished by now. You thought an uncle had repaired the fence years ago. You slipped through the hole, barely managing to fit your grown body through it.

As children, you and your cousins had taken that path so many times. You wandered through the surrounding woods collecting acorns and making fairy houses in the roots of trees, or digging holes for reasons you really can’t recall. You would also spy upon the Green House, making up tall tales about why it was empty.

“I dare you to knock on the door,” a cousin dared you.

“What? No way! You go and knock,” you fussed.

“Chicken!” The cousin mocked. “Bawk, bawk, bawk, you got chicken legs!”

You were sensitive about your skinny legs, even as a child. Sometimes it was still a raw spot you didn’t like being poked at. “Am not!”

“Chicken’s walk on chicken legs! Chicken legs just run away!” Your cousin sang in a mocking tune.