Edgehill Read online

  Edgehill

  Thomas Rouxville

  ~~~

  Copyright © 2017 Thomas Rouxville

  First published in 2017 by Jonmac Limited.

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters and places, incidents are used entirely fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Rise of the Shadow – Chapter 1

  About The Author

  Fantastic Fiction

  Chapter 1

  “Where are we going?” the little girl asked, tugging on the man's sleeve. Her emerald eyes pooled with tears, fright evident on her face. “What about Mummy and Daddy?”

  “We are going to your grandparents,” the man answered, holding her hand tighter. “You're going to live with them now, Athena.”

  “But why?” Athena asked. She looked over her shoulder at her house, wanting to go back, but it kept getting farther and farther away, soon becoming a tiny speck in the distance. She tried to wriggle out of the man's grip, but he scooped her up into his arms and gave her a stern look.

  “Your grandparents are going to be excited to see you,” he said. With that, there was no more talk.

  Athena cried silently, wondering what was happening. She tried to wrestle out of the man's arms again but eventually gave up, defeated and tired. Finally, she fell asleep as she was carried across the dark village, the man's lantern flickering until it went black.

  The man knocked on a door, practically pounding it. He gently set Athena's sleeping body on the ground, making sure her cloak was snuggly wrapped around her.

  “Who's there?” a voice called from within the building. “At this time of night!”

  The man knocked again. “I'm a traveler, and I've brought your granddaughter,” he said, trying not to disturb the child. “I've also brought news.”

  “What kind of news?”

  “Grave news, I'm afraid,” the traveler said. “Please open the door, this poor girl needs you.”

  A face peered out as the door was slowly opened. A stern-looking woman stared at the traveler and then at her granddaughter. “What are you doing with my grandchild? Where are her parents?”

  “Her parents are dead, Miss,” the traveler said, immediately dropping his gaze to the ground. “What?” The woman clutched her chest. “I-I don't understand...” She trailed off, eyes widening in shock. “Jermyn,” she called. “Come here!”

  “Yes dear?” an older man said, appearing in the doorway and placing an arm around his wife. He smiled, not noticing the traveler or Athena.

  “Our daughter is dead,” the woman said, voice wavering. She broke down into a sob as her husband's smile evaporated.

  “I best be going,” the traveler whispered. “I am truly sorry for your loss.”

  Jermyn hugged his wife, holding her as she cried. “It's going to be all right, Laguna,” he breathed, but he was crying too. He hardly noticed as the traveler disappeared in the moonlight, leaving the sleeping girl behind.

  “Look at her,” Jermyn said, as Athena began to stir. “She's only four years old, and an orphan.” “She's never going to know her parents,” Laguna said, wiping away tears.

  “It's a cruel world we live in.” Jermyn scooped up his grandchild, kissing her forehead. He brushed a lock of light brown hair out of her eyes. “It's good to see you, my Athena.”

  Athena looked around, scared and confused. I want my parents, she thought.

  Laguna sighed, holding the door open. “We can talk to her in the morning. Let's get her to bed.” That night, Athena slept restlessly, waking up every few minutes in a cold sweat, her heart pounding and terror flooding her entire body. She couldn't understand what was happening, having never experienced a nightmare before. She couldn't even remember what the nightmares were about, waking up just feeling lost and alone. Athena ached for her parents, wanting them to come and save her from the nightmares, but every time she called, they didn't show up.

  The next morning, Athena awoke to bright sunlight filling the room. Laguna pulled back the curtains and clapped her hands together. “We've work to do!”

  Athena yawned, groggily looking up at her grandmother's grey hair and cold blue gaze. Athena's mother had the same eyes, but hers always looked much friendlier. Laguna was intimidating, making Athena want to sink and hide underneath her blankets.

  “As a member of this family, you will help out in the kitchen,” Laguna said, yanking a blanket off of Athena. “Your grandfather and I can't run this bakery by ourselves.”

  Athena rubbed at her tired eyes, taking in her new environment. This was her mother's room when she was a little girl. Athena had visited several times, but she had never slept here before. She wanted her own room back. She wanted to see her parents. She wanted to go home.

  Laguna sighed. “I've got to tell you something, Athena. It may be hard to understand, but your parents are gone.”

  Gone? Athena stared at her grandmother, waiting for her to say more.

  At that moment Jermyn strode into the room, flour already spotting his apron and hands. He knelt on the floor, across from Athena, and gripped her tiny hands. “They passed away,” he said softly.

  I don't understand. Athena looked at her grandparents with confusion.

  “A disaster,” Laguna said, coming closer to the girl. “Their lives were claimed in a disaster.” Athena couldn't even pronounce disaster, much less understand what it meant. I don't understand, she thought again, but she could see something was wrong. Her grandparents were both teary-eyed, and sorrow was etched on their faces.

  “Oh child,” Jermyn said, touching Athena's face, “Your parents are in heaven.”

  Athena did not understand death. She wondered why so many people went to heaven and why they would go there and never come back. It must have been a wonderful place if they wanted to stay there, but why would her parents go without her? Can I go to heaven? A feeling of hope crept up to her.

  “Someday you can go to heaven to see them,” Jermyn said. “But not anytime soon!” He smiled, and stood up, grimacing momentarily for his knees were old and weak. “Now, let's go into the bakery, and you can help your grandmother.”

  When Athena entered the bakery wearing her own mini apron and hat, she grabbed a pile of dough, squishing and rolling it between her fingers.

  Laguna slapped her hand. “Unsanitary,” she snapped. “Do you know what unsanitary means, Athena?”

  Athena shook her head.

  “It means unclean. You have got to clean your hands before handling the dough.”

  Laguna led Athena to a bucket of hot water, demonstrating how to wash hands. Athena's face contorted in confusion. She quickly tuned her grandmother out, already bored of working in the bakery. Her gaze darted towards her grandfather, who was kneading and rolling dough into fancy little shapes.

  A layer of flour coated his clothing and dusted his hair, making his salt and pepper hair look completely white. He was humming as he worked, though there was a sadness in his blue eyes that Athena still didn't understand.

  “Athena!” Laguna yelled.

  The little girl looked at her grandmother innocently. “Have you paid any attention to me?”

  Athen
a shook her head again.

  Jermyn laughed loudly. “Let her go and play, Laguna! She's young. Little children don't deserve to be cooped up in stuffy old bakeries all day.”

  Laguna crossed her arms. “She hasn't even done anything yet, Jermyn.” “She can start tomorrow,” Jermyn said, his cheery tone slightly changed. Laguna nodded. “Fine then, be back in time for dinner Athena.”

  Athena smiled gratefully and gave her grandfather a hug, sliding quickly past her. Truthfully, her grandmother was a bit scary.

  It was a sunny, beautiful day, but Athena couldn't relax. Her heart ached greatly. She wanted her parents to come back from heaven. It couldn't be better than here. It couldn't be better than being with Athena. She plopped onto the grass and began to cry, ignoring concerned villagers and alarmed passers-by. The bakery cat sidled up next to her, brushing against her legs. It purred as if trying to make Athena happy, as if to say, “Stop crying.” But Athena could not stop crying. Her parents were not going to come back from heaven. They were gone, and she didn't even know why. She wanted to understand, but she couldn't ask her grandparents. She couldn't even bring herself to say any words at all.

  The cat curled into a ball on Athena's lap, falling into a deep slumber within seconds. Athena petted it slowly, careful not to wake it. She sat in the yard for hours, just petting the cat and thinking.

  As hours turned into days, and days to weeks, Athena began to adapt to her new home. She helped Laguna clean the kitchen and hand food to customers. She even got to handle the dough a few times, though her creations were always given away for free because Jermyn didn't think they were quite good enough, at least not yet.

  “Just practice,” Jermyn would say. “Someday you can run this bakery. You can be the son I never had, or rather, the daughter I never had.” He laughed, ignoring his wife's annoyed look.

  Laguna scoffed. “She doesn't even talk, Jermyn.”

  “She will,” Jermyn said. “A little more time is all it takes.”

  But a little more time turned into an entire year. Athena spent every night crying out in her sleep. She was plagued with nightmares, though whenever the morning came, she couldn't remember exactly what they consisted of. She would awake breathless, gasping for air. There was always a feeling of emptiness, a feeling of loneliness. Athena was worried, but she didn't know why. And yet, she couldn't voice her fear.

  “You were talking in your sleep,” Jermyn said one morning at breakfast. “What's wrong, my dear child?”

  Athena shook her head. She wanted to know what was wrong. “Are you feeling ill?”

  Athena stood up from the table, going outside to play with the cat. She could hear her grandparents speaking to each other inside, the walls not thick enough to block their gossip.

  “She always speaks in her sleep,” Laguna said. “I can't understand everything she says; it's mostly mumbling and babble, but she always sounds so scared.”

  “Is that worry I hear in your tone?” Jermyn asked.

  “Don't joke! I am worried, Jermyn. She doesn't speak to us! She doesn't speak to anyone. It's been a year already. What if she never speaks?”

  “It's going to be okay, Laguna. Athena's been through a lot, and she is still so young. She is going to be just fine.”

  Athena stopped listening, looking at her cat, a black ball of fur purring loudly. Have I been through a lot? Athena could hardly remember the night she got to her grandparents’ home. She remembered being scared, but that was it. She still wondered about her parents from time to time, hoping that maybe this was all a dream. Maybe she was asleep at home, and this was one big nightmare. She'd wake up, and her parents would be next to her, comforting her. Yet Athena knew that her reality consisted of a bakery, a cat, and her grandparents. She would make the most of this reality. She would learn to love it.

  Gently setting the cat on the ground and brushing the dirt off of her dress, Athena took a deep breath and walked towards the bakery, getting ready to speak. She cleared her throat, finding it hard to even make a sound. For a second, Athena was afraid that her voice no longer worked.

  “Wanting to help out today?” Laguna said, peering down at Athena. “Yes,” Athena replied.

  Laguna's eyes widened in shock. “Do my ears deceive me?” “No,” Athena said.

  “Jermyn! The girl's just spoken!”

  Jermyn emerged from the kitchen, goopy dough dripping over his fingers. “My girl?” “Your girl!”

  Athena smiled. “I'm done being quiet,” she said.

  Her grandfather scooped her up, spinning her around. “My dear Athena has a wonderful voice!”

  Athena laughed for the first time in a year.

  Chapter 2

  Jermyn and Athena danced around the kitchen, laughing and smiling. Even Laguna couldn't help but smile a bit, proud of her granddaughter for finally speaking.

  Jermyn patted Athena's head, dusting it with white flour. “Would you like to help me bake some bread?” he asked.

  “Yes, Grandfather!” Athena exclaimed. “My, my, you're excited aren't you?”

  “It's my favorite,” Athena said, already smooshing a piece of dough. “Are your hands clean?”

  “I thought only Grandmother made me clean my hands!” Athena pouted, glancing at her grandmother who was standing in the corner of the room, arms crossed, lips pursed.

  “We don't want customers getting sick, right Athena?” Jermyn asked. “I suppose not,” Athena murmured.

  “Go wash your hands and then I'll teach you something fancy.”

  As the days passed, Athena learned her grandfather's trade, improving rapidly. She was determined to adapt to this new life. Determined to leave her parents in the past.

  Athena also learned more about death, seeing the occasional funeral procession pass by the road. She began to realize that heaven was not a place people visited because they necessarily wanted to. It was a place that everybody had to travel to once their lives had ended.

  “Heaven is where you go to rest from this restless life,” Jermyn had once said. “Doesn't anyone finish resting?” Athena asked.

  “No, my dear child. They rest forever, for all eternity.”

  Athena couldn't imagine resting for an eternity. She could hardly stand still for more than a few moments. When she wasn't helping at the bakery, she was playing outside, and when she wasn't playing, she was trying to sleep. Or rather, trying to avoid sleep.

  Athena didn't look forward to nights. She would stare up at the ceiling, listening to the wind and the crickets. Sometimes she would hear her grandparents snore and she'd giggle, only to have her grandmother come and scold her. Athena didn't want to sleep, because with sleep came the nightmares.

  Every night without fail, the nightmares would consume her. She woke up sobbing, or even worse, screaming. In the morning, Athena had to drag herself to the table for breakfast, dark circles under her eyes, darkening every day.

  “Poor girl,” Jermyn said after Athena went outside to play, hardly taking a bite of anything. “She barely sleeps.”

  “She's not a very efficient worker, being tired so much of the time,” Laguna scoffed, picking up her husband's plate to rinse off.

  “It’s not her health you care about, but whether she's a good enough worker?” Jermyn frowned. “My goodness, Laguna, be softer. She's just a little child. A suffering little child.”

  “Everyone has nightmares,” Laguna countered. “Maybe Athena's are worse than others, and I understand that she's scared, but her nightmares will pass with time.”

  Jermyn was not so sure. He looked out the window, watching as Athena tried to chase the cat around the yard. As happy as his grandchild had become, there was a deep sadness within her that no one could understand.

  As Athena lay down in her bed for what seemed like the millionth night, she took a deep breath, wishing the nightmares would stay away at least once. Was it too much to ask for a good night's sleep? Couldn't she rest like th
e people in heaven?

  “Athena?” Jermyn whispered, cracking open the door. He held a lit candle, a small flame dancing in the darkness.

  “What is it, Grandfather?”

  “Would you like to tell me about your nightmares?” Jermyn sat on the edge of the bed, placing the candle on the nightstand.

  Athena watched the flame flicker, ignoring her grandfather's question. “Please?” Jermyn asked.

  “I can't,” Athena said, still staring at the candle. “Why not, my dear?”

  Because they're terrifying. Athena couldn't remember the content of her dreams, but she knew all too well the feelings of dread and terror that they brought. She just wanted them to disappear. As much as she was trying to love her new life, the nightmares held her back. They kept her trapped within her own mind.

  Tears began to flow down Athena's face. She hated crying. She wished that her eyes would dry up so that she'd never cry again. As her grandfather hugged her, she cried even more.

  “You're in pain,” Jermyn whispered, trying to calm the sad child. “But I don't hurt,” Athena said, wiping her face.

  “Not physical pain, but mental pain. The worst kind.” “Will it go away?” Athena asked.

  “We can only hope,” Jermyn answered.

  “I don't want to face the nightmares again.”

  “I know child, I know.” Jermyn squeezed Athena's hand. “Shall I leave this candle here? Maybe it will help.”

  Athena nodded, sniffling. “Can you stay here with me, Grandfather?” Jermyn smiled warmly. “Of course.”

  A feeling of peace washed over Athena, but it didn't last. As she drifted to sleep, dread filled her heart. Her nightmares took over. Neither the candle nor her grandfather could save her from the nightmares.

  The next morning, Jermyn kissed his granddaughter's forehead and went downstairs with the burned-out candle. Laguna was already seated at the table, sorting through the month's supplies. She was haggard, exhausted, and not because of her hard work.