Stella Harfield

I was sat at the dirty wooden bar, a pint of something barely drinkable warming on the countertop. I kept my eyes focussed pointedly on the amber liquid, tracing the path of a drop of condensation. It dripped slowly down the glass as every other occupant of the room blurred into indiscernible background noise.  

‘Come now,’ whispered a voice in my ear.

The words were so quiet amongst the other sounds, quiet enough I could almost have imagined it. If it hadn’t been for the huff of warm breath against the shell of my ear. Or the shiver which ran down my spine at the raw, velvety tone.

‘You know we’re the same.’

Then there was a primeval sense of movement, where the fluttering of something—maybe a skirt—in your peripheral tells you that something which was once there now isn’t. Slowly I turned, like if I moved too fast then I would startle… something. But, of course, there was nothing there but the fading smell of elderflower and vanilla, tinged with something more earthy.

Near the exit, a figure turned back towards the crowded room, a single hand raised in a wave. Then, they slipped through the wooden door and out into the balmy night.

Belatedly I went to call out a name, but the cry wilted on my tongue. I swallowed back the words which sat heavily, wanting to burst out. Instead, I turned back to my decidedly warm drink.

Closing my eyes, I drew in a slow breath. I held it, pondering my choices for no more than a moment, and then let it out just as slowly.

Decision now made, I drained my weak, watery beer and returned the empty vessel to the counter with a little more force than I had intended.

It didn’t take much effort to weave between tables and patrons alike, my sights set on the door and my mind already focused beyond it.

The night air was refreshing, not particularly cold but certainly less stuffy than what I’d been trying to breath inside. The light of the moon—not quite half filled—was the only thing brightening the night. I could see no one outside the building, no one down the way. I stood in the silver light, alone. Despite that, I somehow knew. I felt a pull which turned me, and my feet carried me, almost of their own accord, away from the edge of the town and out to the shadowed forest.

Here it was darker, only dappled moonlight reaching through a canopy of trees. No matter though. I continued until I finally reached a clearing.

There was a small fire in the centre of the space, perfectly ringed with stones. And there, silhouetted against the firelight stood the figure I had followed out.

‘I knew you’d come.’

A neatly manicured hand was held out towards me. I felt no hesitation at all in moving towards it.

‘They’ve abandoned us here. Surely you realise that?’

I nodded, not trusting my own voice as my eyes slipped shut. The knowledge hurt. There was an empty spot behind my ribs where the trust and faith I held used to live. And though I had come to accept the fact, it still felt like an ache in my heart. I couldn’t quite say the words yet. It was like there was a small part of me which believed this could be different, and if I said those words aloud then I would seal my fate.

‘Oh darling, don’t fret. I have plans for us instead.’

I looked up, carefully meeting their eye. There was a strange lilt to the voice now, a sound I’d not heard before. Where once that voice spoke of allure, it now held a strange new strength. The soft velvet had turned to silk, sliding through my brain. But the silk covered a core of steel, of something unyielding and strong. Where once there was a hint of suggestion and submission, there is now only power and certainty. I felt something deep inside of me reaching towards that conviction and I accepted it as my new foundation.

The hand was still extended towards me.

‘Take my hand.’

A whisper. In my brain? Spoken out loud? I wasn’t sure.  The only thing I was sure of was the person in front of me.

Slowly I raised my own arm, placing my hand surely in theirs.

I hadn’t thought my fingers were cold, but a sudden warmth came into them as they touched another’s skin. The heat spread up my arm and burst into my chest. I felt it spread through my entire being.

‘Let’s dance.’

The fire light flickered off the planes of their face, illuminating them in the most otherworldly way. I briefly thought that maybe I should be afraid or, at the very least, wary. The thought disappeared from my mind as quickly as it had come. Drifting away like the smoke from the fire.

We moved off, spinning in slow circles without any music and drifting across the clearing. As we danced, I felt a low hum reverberating through my chest. It matched the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of our movements as we spun in lazy circles.

‘Let’s take up arms. Shall we waltz for the dead?’

And even now, looking back, I wasn’t sure who spoke. Was it them? Or was it me? All I know was in that moment everything changed.

If anyone had asked the bar keeper if they remembered me being there that night, I know he could not answer. There were many people in his establishment every evening, one or two patrons would not stand out amongst the masses who came and went. The only thing he could say for certain was that the next morning, when he came down to the bar, he did not know why there was a small pile of coins glinting on the tacky wooden countertop. And he definitely had no recollection of receiving a small bouquet of black hellebores which sat in a dirty glass beside the coins.

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Stella Harfield is a young adult fantasy and adventure writer from South Australia. Her focus is on stories with either a female protagonist or one with an unidentified gender. Stella enjoys playing in a world with magic for its inherent sense of escapism. She has always been a voracious reader and now has decided to write more of the stories she wants to read and share them with the world. Stella believes in creating characters which readers of all ages and genders can find something to identify with.

More amazing stories are waiting for you…
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