Page 12 of Wallflower Witch

“Did you hear that, too?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “A voice coming out of a tomb was not what I expected when we opened the doors.”

“I kind of did.” I shrug. “I just didn’t expect you to hear it, too.”

He snorts, then we both creep forward.

“Hello,” I call into the darkness. “Is anyone in here?”

“Yes! Yes! I’m here!” calls a deep voice. “Thank you for finding me!”

I swing my gaze around before spotting a man leaning limply against the wall. His long brown hair is tangled around his face like it hasn’t seen a brush in days. His fingers scramble against the walls, finally catching on one of the plaques, and he slowly pulls his way upright.

“I thought I’d be here forever,” he says, stumbling forward. “But where are my manners? I’m Josh.” He holds out his hand.

“Hey, Josh. I’m Patrick.” Patrick introduces himself first, grasping Josh’s hand in a crushing grip.

When I reach out to shake his hand, he grasps my hand and brings it up to his mouth, brushing his lips across my knuckles. I blush and pull my hand back. Something inside me I didn’t realize was restless settles at the contact. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Morrigan.”

“I’d love to hear how you got in here, but maybe we should go back outside,” Patrick suggests. “This place gives me a bad feeling.”

“Yeah,” Josh agrees. “If we get stuck again, who knows how long it’ll take someone to find us?”

We only make it a few steps before Josh stumbles, almost face-planting into the ground. Patrick jumps back, catching him and wrapping Josh’s arm over his shoulder, supporting the other man’s weight as we exit back onto the lawn.

Josh hisses and throws a hand up, shading his eyes from the sun.

With an excited caw, Quoth swoops down from somewhere above us, landing on my shoulder to nose his beak against my cheek. “Ah, yes. Quoth, this is Josh. Josh, this is Quoth, my feathered companion.” Quoth caws again in greeting as I finish speaking.

“What happened out here?” Josh asks. “When I found this place, it was nothing but dead weeds and rotting leaves. But now… there’s grass. Wait, what day is it?”

“It’s Friday,” I answer.

“August 10th,” Patrick adds.

“What the hell?!” Josh murmurs, shaking his head.

“Why?” I ask him. “When did you come up here?”

He pauses, scratching his head. “I think a week or two ago. However long it took me to eat through my snacks in my fanny pack.”

“What happened?” Patrick asks.

“I… I don’t know,” Josh answers.

“Just tell us what you do remember,” I coax.

“I had heard stories of this place,” Josh starts. “I heard there was an abandoned town back in the woods. Somewhere no one had ventured in years. Even other thrill seekers and dark tourists stay away. They try. I’ve read the message boards. They come out here, visit the diner, maybe spend the night at the motel, but most of them can’t shake the feeling of being unwanted long enough to make it through the night.

“A waste of money, most of them called it. Nothing to see and not worth the trip. A complete one-eighty from the energy in the planning for the adventure. Every time Spells Hollow showed up on a message board or in a video, I felt drawn to it. Like something was here for me. Like I had to come here.

“I spent night after night when I got home from work combing through everything I could find online, hoping that I could find a hint of what was waiting for me here, but to no avail. After pretty much not sleeping for a few weeks, I finally decided the only way to solve it was to do what the rest of them couldn’t. I had to go to Spells Hollow and find the abandoned town.” He shrugs like this is the obvious answer to anyone in that situation. “So I packed a bag and hit the road.”

“When I reached the diner, I stopped in and grabbed a bite to eat. The workers laughed when I told them I had to get up here. Said something about no one goes back there, not even them. I just nodded along and listened to all the stories of people leaving in the middle of the night because they heard something or felt like they were being watched. The person who left the quickest didn’t even last ten minutes in his room before throwing the room key back on the desk and hightailing it up the road.

“The whole time I was in there, it was like something was at war within me. Part of me wanted to flee the area, take everyone’s advice, and get the hell out of dodge. The other part of me knew something was waiting for me here that I needed to find. So I checked into a room at the motel, grabbed my backpack, and started hiking into the woods.”

“Why didn’t you come up the road?” asks Patrick.

---