Introduction
The old woman stared out the window. Her gaze was focused on something, and a tremendous amount of worry could be seen, splattered across her face. Go away, she thought, as she continued to look beyond the pane. She could feel the cold hands of dread grabbing at her, as her granddaughter climbed into bed. Just go away, you! Her granddaughter did not notice her staring out the window, with such a look of concern. Nor did she see what it was that her grandmother was looking at…
…A faint glimmer of emerald green light flitted outside the window. It flew across the night sky outside the window, like some miniature green shooting star. One that brought complete and total fear to the old woman. Then the night was pitch black again. No light, save for the stars and moon above, could be seen in the blackness outside the window. Even then, the old woman stood, knowing that it was still there…still waiting.
“Grandma,” the girl said, lying under the blankets on her bed. “Tell me a story.” The woman turned around, facing her darling granddaughter. The sweet girl, with the copper-red hair and big brown eyes, was smiling a rather large smile. It was a grin that took over her entire face. It was a sight that almost had the ability to make the woman forget all about her own fears, that had been consuming her, since she first came over for dinner hours ago. Almost!
“A story?” The old lady looked at her granddaughter and smiled. “Why, aren’t you too tired to hear a story? Surely, you must be. It has been quite an eventful day.”
The girl shook her head quickly, her fuzzy red hair puffing out even more. She smiled again. “Please, grandma…please,” she begged. “Tomorrow is my birthday, after all.” She looked at her grandmother with unblinking eyes. Yet, even as the old lady flinched upon hearing the mention of her birthday, the girl remained unaware. “Tell me the story!”
“What story would you hear,” replied the grandmother, taking a seat in a white rocking chair, beside the bed. “The story of Grandilian Grove? Is that the story that you want me to tell you? Oh, my dear child, I have told you that story so many times, that I imagine you may actually know it better than I do. Surely, there must be some other story you would like to hear? Some new story. One that you have not heard before?”
The young girl, who went by the name of Rose-Lynn, simply shook her head. “Please, Grandma…tell me of Grandilian Grove. I love the way you tell it. It doesn’t sound like a story at all.” Rose-Lynn smiled. “You make it all sound so real. You make it seem like a place that I could see, some day, if I am lucky enough.” Once again, with these words, the old woman gave a flinch.
“Oh, very well,” the old woman said, taking a moment to turn away from Rose-Lynn, and look at the window behind. The green flash of light was still there. It was a light so small that it would be incredibly simple to miss, unless you were deliberately looking for it. A small, sickly green aura, enveloping a creature that was pure evil.
“Grandma,” Rose-Lynn called, grabbing the attention of her grandmother. Her voice made the old woman jump a little, before she turned from the window, to look at her. “The story.”
“Oh, right,” the woman said. “Very well. Now then, what is the best way to begin a story such as the one that I shall now tell? Oh, yes…of course. Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a land of magic. It was a land of beauty. A land where happiness was so plentiful, that you could smell the sweetness of it, in the air…like honey and sugar, carrying itself through the wind. This land—a land that was wonderful beyond measure—was called Grandilian Grove.” The old woman sat, rocking gently in the chair, as she let the story pour out of her. Rose-Lynn smiled as she listened. And, as the story unfolded, she found that her eyes were growing heavy. She fought for as long as she could, but eventually, she fell asleep, with a smile on her face.
The old woman was relieved, actually. Out of all the times that she had told the story—all the times Rose-Lynn begged to hear it—she had never once had to complete the tale. Rose-Lynn would always drift off long before the story took its dark turn. All Rose-Lynn knew of Grandilian Grove, was that it was a place of joy, and grand celebrations. She knew about the happiness that had been present, so long ago. She knew about Grandilian Grove, and the way that it used to be, once upon a time. But she did not know of the darkness that had taken hold of the once wonderful land. The slumbering girl, already dreaming about the happy place that she thought Grandilian Grove still was, had not the slightest idea that the story was continuing still. She remained unaware that this story was destined to grow even more terrible…even more sinister. She knew not of her own destiny. She knew nothing of the nightmares, and the horrors that were still to come.
The old woman rose from the rocking chair, and went to her lemon yellow carpet bag, with pink and red roses scattered across it. It sat on the pink dresser, just inside the bedroom door. From it, she pulled a box, wrapped in pastel yellow paper, covered with pink polka dots, and topped with a pink bow. She set this box on the foot of Rose-Lynn’s bed. Then, ever so gently, so as not to wake her, she kissed her granddaughter’s forehead, then quietly made her way out of the room.
“Erica,” the woman said, as she descended the stairs, and entered into the dining room of the house. She looked her daughter in the eyes. “Make us each a cup of hot tea. We need to talk, my dear.” Moments later, with two coffee mugs filled with tea, her daughter sat at the table with her. She knew what it was that her mother wanted to talk about. She knew exactly where the conversation would go. It would go to a place that she had been trying to avoid all night. She set the giant white ceramic mug, with the words I Love Coffee, written in curly brown letters, in front of her mother. For herself, she had a solid red mug, which was also rather big.
“Really, my dear,” the old woman said, as she looked down at the two bulky mugs that sat on the table, in front of them. A slight frown crossed her face. “You do remember that I, personally, gave you a set of beautiful tea cups, don’t you?” No matter what the situation—no matter how dire an event might be, in the old woman’s mind, there was never a reason to serve tea in bulky ceramic mugs. Tea, after all, was an art form. Everything from making it, to serving it, should be perfectly planned, and done in the most elegant of ways. It should be presented in dainty, pretty cups, such as the lovely, and rather expensive ones that she had purchased for Erica, long ago. Instead, Erica had shoved the two mugs in a microwave, heated the water, and then threw in two bags of tea, before coming to the table. There was nothing artful about the process, at all.
“Erica.” The woman said, as she took a sip of her tea, shaking her head again at the thoughts of how it was made, and how it was served. “Tonight, while I was up in Rose-Lynn’s room, I saw it. The green light. For weeks now, I have been dreaming of it. I have seen it every single time I have closed my eyes. I prayed that my dreams were wrong. I so desperately hoped this threat would not come. But, my darling girl, I am afraid that the time has come. He is here!”
Erica let out a sigh, and then took a sip of her own tea. “Mother, listen to me. You need to stop! The story of Grandilian Grove is an incredible story. It’s beautiful, really. And yes, the way you tell it does, in fact, make it all sound very real. You have a gift with telling the story of it. But that is all it is. A story. It is fiction. Plain and simple. None of it is real.”
“Oh, my poor darling. How very wrong you are.” The woman took another sip. “It is all real…the good, and the bad.” Even as she prepared to say her next words, she knew the way that her daughter would react. Still though, she had to say something. “ The Book of Truth talks about a girl, born human. This girl will, during the dawn of her tenth year, be pulled into the battle that is raging still, in Grandilian Grove. The wicked one will visit her on the night of her birthday, and from then on, he shall watch. He shall wait. And when the time is right—when the moment is precise—he will act. When he knows that he can easily manipulate her, he will come for her.”
“Stop, mother.”
“No, Erica. I will not stop! I tell you this, not to upset you, but because you need to know. My dear girl, I tell you this because it is necessary.” She took a few deep breaths before continuing. “Tonight—the green light that I saw, waiting outside her window—it was him! He knows that her tenth birthday begins at midnight tonight. Until then, he can do nothing but watch. He cannot harm her, but he can keep her in his sight, just as he has done for some time now, I’m sure. But once the clock strikes twelve—once midnight is upon us, and Rose-Lynn is ten years old—he will be able to act out a plan that he has been hatching for quite some time.
“ENOUGH!” Erica screamed so loud that it was a miracle that Rose-Lynn did not wake. It was the exact reaction that the old woman knew she would get, yet even still, hearing her daughter raise her voice was startling. Erica managed to calm her voice, bringing it to a faint whisper. Yet even still, she was overtaken with anger. And her words—well chosen words that were full of her rage—sounded even worse, when spoken in such a light tone. “You are wrong, mother. You are delusional. Insane! Do you even hear yourself? Magical worlds, and neon green boogeymen!” She grabbed the mugs from the table, even though they were both still half-full, at least, and went to the kitchen to wash them. “You know, the only reason I have put up with any of this ‘Grandilian Grove’ nonsense is because Rose-Lynn enjoyed the stories. But I should have listened to Andrew, long ago. He told me that we should not let our daughter anywhere near you. He said that your fascination with Grandilian Grove was not only ridiculous, but also very harmful. You would think that, after my own childhood, I would have listened to him. But I wanted you to know your granddaughter. So, I ignored him. But this is it. This is the last straw! How dare you try to scare me, by making me think that some fictional monster is coming to claim my daughter.”
“Oh, my darling…he is not fictional. He is quite real.”
“They are not real, mother. After everything, I know that.”
“Erica, you have to listen to me. Rose-Lynn is in danger!”
“Get out,” Erica finally snapped. “Get out of my house, this instant! And do not think that you are ever going to be seeing Rose-Lynn again!” She watched as her mother grabbed her carpetbag. The old woman had a frown pulling at her lips, and beneath her bright purple glasses, tears were starting to form.
She slowly walked to the front door. She turned to look at her daughter, who was flush with anger. “My darling girl. Just know one thing. I will always be here, whenever you need me.” She walked out the front door, down the porch, across the cobblestone walkway in the grassy yard, and out the gate.
She gave one last look to Rose-Lynn’s window. The green light was still there, hovering outside the glass panes. From within the orb, as the woman now noticed, there was a horrible stench. The smell of evil. “You,” she said in a loud voice, pointing at the light. “You listen to me now. You stay the hell away from my granddaughter!”
A small laugher could be heard, coming from the light. Maniacal and serpentine, it haunted the old lady. Then, a voice…barely audible. “Poor Daisy. She doesn’t believe you. She doesn’t believe in me, at all. She doesn’t remember, does she? Oh, but give it time. In time, she will. And in time, that little brat, that you try so hard to protect, will be mine!”
