Off to Grandmother's House (2nd)

The dark shadows of Derman Woods belied many things. Some spoke of twisted creatures that awoke in the night to steal away small children, and other stories depicted that the tree roots could snatch a person unaware and pick their bones clean. There were even whispered accounts of white, floating wraiths that leeched their way inside an unsuspecting fool, leaving only a soulless husk of a human behind. Hundreds of years of such tales instilled a foreboding of the woods, but only at night. Any who ventured too near when the sun slipped down over the western horizon could feel the clenching of their stomachs and a thin layer of sweat dotting across their foreheads.

In the daylight, Derman was a haven for the people of the small village that bordered beside it. Wild mushrooms and healing herbs grew aplenty and the forest was generous in supplying firewood needed to keep the many fires burning in the cold winter months. No one feared the woods in the light of day.

Yes, many stories there were ... but some children are not so easily swayed by such superstition.

Sara McGee was an astute little girl of no more than nine summers old. Rosy of cheek and ocean-blue eyes that twinkled like stars, she always had a ready smile. Her small, delicate frame exuded a daintiness that was odd for someone so young. Yellow, silvery locks like finely spun gold trailed down the length of her back, each forming a perfect ringlet that bounced as she skipped along her merry way. Though still a child at heart, she was steadfast and logical, paying little heed to the dark tales. Passing through the forest on numerous occasions to visit her grandmother, Sara had never seen anything close to the stories she had heard whispered behind so many hands. Then again, the sun always shone bright and high whenever she traveled the dusty path to her grandmother's house.

* * *

Sara woke, hearing the troubled voice of her mother.

"She's all alone out there." Her mama's urgent whisper carried through the quiet of their cottage. Creeping out of her bed as quiet as a mouse, the little girl cracked open the door just a bit to better eavesdrop.

"She'll be fine, Delia. Perhaps Sara would like to visit her today."

Hearing her papa's reply, a wide grin creased Sara's strawberry lips. Opening her bedroom door wider, she feigned a yawn and stretched tiny arms to the ceiling. "Good morning, Mama, good morning, Papa," she announced with her usual cheery disposition. The small dimples in her cheeks deepened.

"Good morning, my sweet," Mama replied, her eyes filled with the love. "Sara, your Grandmother isn't feeling well and ... I would like you to take her some biscuits and soup."

The little girl could not contain her glee. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, Mama," she exclaimed. Bouncing on the tips of her toes, her voice quivered with excitement. She loved visiting her grandmother. Sara learned more about history from the kind, old woman than she had all her time attending the small schoolhouse.

Rushing back into her bedroom, Sara dressed as fast as her little hands allowed. Standing by the front door of their little cottage, she tried hard not to fidget as she waited for the red and white checkered gingham-covered basket.

"Now, do not stray from the path," her father's usual warning rang out.

"Yes, Papa," Sara murmured, casting her eyes downward.

"And you come back well before dark, Sara. And do not talk to any strangers," her mother added.

This was always their customary counsel to her. "Yes, Mama and Papa," she mumbled, eager to be on her way

"There is a chill in the morning air, so be sure to take your cloak." Mother pointed to a garment hanging on a hook beside the door.

Sara turned and donned the bright, scarlet cape, tying the sash firmly around her neck. Kissing both her parent's cheeks, the little girl swung open the door and skipped along to the edge of the woods. With one final wave goodbye, she turned and entered Derman Woods, the thick foliage swallowing her from view.

It was a beautiful morning, and it promised to be a glorious day. Dew clung to the abundant leaves and brush, washing the path in a mystical glow. Thin beams of sunlight streamed through the trees' branches, the light dancing along Sara's slipped feet. Halfway to her grandmother's house, the little girl stopped to admire the beauty that lay before her. She could not understand how these woods could harbor such fear in people. The many verdant hues seemed alive with movement and color, and the variety of birds twittered like mini symphonies in the trees above. Sara stooped to brush her hand along a sea of shimmering, golden buttercups bordering the path she traveled down. Snatching up a handful, she added the flowers to the basket's items, knowing they would bring a smile to her grandmother's face.

She was about to start down the trail when she heard a rustling on her left. The woods were darker off the beaten path, for the trees grew thick there and sunlight had a more difficult time forcing its way through. She stood for a moment longer before hearing a soft-spoken voice on her right.

"Tell me, little girl. Where are you going?"

Sara spun around, surprised by the sound of a female voice, but she saw no one there. Shaking her crown of golden curls, she turned and jumped with fright. Relief washed over her when she saw the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen standing before her. "My, you gave my heart quite a start," she said, tossing a curl over a tiny shoulder. "You're new to the village?" She'd never seen the stranger before, for she would never have forgotten such beauty. The woman was pale, ethereal-like, yet Sara wasn't frightened in the least.

"I have only just arrived, little girl. Tell me--are you not afraid to travel these dark, forbidden woods?" The woman stared in earnest at her.

Sara's laughter rang out like lilting musical notes. "Not at all, my dear lady. I have nothing to fear from tales of old. I often travel these woods to visit my grandmother." She stuck out her small chest, and defiantly raised her chin.

"You should always be wary of the things that are whispered about, my dear," the woman replied, her violet eyes roving over Sara with unspoken desire. A white, simple gown cinched at the waist by a single-looped gold belt contrasted the long, ebony hair hanging past the stranger's waist like a waterfall of shadows. Not a wisp moved in the subtle breeze that blew through the trees. Clasping together long, tapered fingers, the stranger waited for Sara to respond.

"Hogwash, I say," she retorted in her usual, flippant manner whenever discussing such things. "I do not mean to be rude, dear lady, but I must be on my way, for my grandmother will worry if I'm late. She's not feeling well, and I have brought a basket of goodness for her."

Surprise flitted over the woman's face as she studied her. "I understand, little girl," she murmured, a small smile dancing across ruby-red lips.

Sara shuddered at the feeling that suddenly washed over her, but she dismissed it without a thought. "Are you lost, dear lady?" she asked. After all, she should be polite.

Long tendrils of midnight stirred like a halo of raven feathers as the strange woman shook her head. "No, but thank you for asking, dear child. Now you best be on your way. You don't want your grandmother worrying over you." The beautiful woman stepped to the side of the path, allowing Sara to pass.

The little girl skipped by and continued on her way. She stopped a short distance ahead and turned, finding the woman gone. Shrugging her shoulders, Sara added more speed to her pace and soon, her grandmother's quaint cottage came into view. She knocked on the door and waited, but no sound did she hear. She knocked again, calling out, "Grandmother? It is I ... Sara. I have some freshly baked biscuits and a bowl of barley soup. Would you open the door, please?"

Only silence greeted her. Sara grasped the brass doorknob and entered the cottage only to discover her grandmother was gone. Frowning, she placed the basket onto the rickety table and sat down. Perhaps she's feeling better and is out picking mushrooms. She prepared herself to wait. Several hours passed and still, her grandmother did not show. With a resigned sigh, Sara left the basket of food and began the journey home, praying all was well.

Absorbed in her worry over her grandmother, she glanced up at the now darkening sky, realizing too late that she'd waited far longer than she should have. Oh, dear. It will be well past dark before I arrive home. She knew a scolding would follow this night. Nonetheless, the little girl felt safe in the knowledge that no harm would come to her.

Halfway home, Sara again ran into the strange, beautiful woman standing exactly where she had left her. "Hello, again." She offered the stranger a wide, brilliant smile.

"You have stayed far longer than you should have, little girl," the woman replied, her violet eyes carefully scrutinizing the woods around them.

"So, it would seem." Sara tilted her head. "But as you can see, I'm very safe. And my, so are you," she added with an impish grin.

The woman smiled then, her gleaming teeth shining bright in the gathering gloom. A foreboding cold rushed over Sara, and she took a frightened step back.

"Hmm," hummed the stranger, her dark amethyst eyes taking on a haunting glow. "But for how much longer?"

At that moment, Sara heard the voice of her grandmother calling out to her in the distance.

"Sara? Where are you, my dear child? You come to visit and I was unaware. Come. We shall feast--"

The little girl shifted, peering into the muted darkness of the trail she'd just passed. A thin, filmy fog began to rise from the ground and Sara found her heart beating in way she'd never felt before. She did not sense that the stranger now stood beside her.

"Sara? Come to me, girl. Sara?" the old woman called out, her voice cracking with age and concern.

When her grandmother came into view on the path, a strangled scream lodged in the little girl's throat. Once a sweet and kind looking woman, the hag that stood before her was anything but her grandmother. Gray hair whipped around the old woman's head like slithering silver snakes fighting for supremacy. She was ragged and dirty, but that was not what frightened Sara.

When the old woman caught sight of her granddaughter, she smiled a malicious grin.

It was then Sara saw two elongated fangs gleaming in the diminutive light. Trying her best to swallow, Sara forced herself to speak. "My, Grandmother, what big, long teeth you have," she stammered, trying to will her legs to move. Frozen with fear, she could do nothing but watch her grandmother approach ever closer, crooning like a banshee under her breath. Her eyes held a ghostly crimson glow and Sara found herself drowning within their putrid pools. Her heart beat so loud, she could barely hear her grandmother's next words.

"Oh, yes, my dear ... all the better to eat and suck you dry with," snarled the hag.

The firm grip of the stranger's hand upon her shoulder brought the little girl back from the edge of fear. She looked up at the stranger, tears of terror streaming down both pudgy cheeks.

Violet eyes bored into her as Sara began to swoon.

"Guardian angels don't always look like you imagine, Sara," she whispered in a voice filled with love.

The little girl knew only blackness then.

The young woman paused to sneer at the approaching hag before taking one of Sara's small hands within the pale cold of her own. As the hag rushed forward to claim her dinner, a shriek of tormented anger burst forth from the old woman's foaming mouth. For a moment, the horrid sound echoed through the dense trees before settling into its usual ominous silence.

Sara awoke at the edge of the woods, and the strange, beautiful woman standing watch over her. She rubbed her eyes with tiny, balled-up fists. "Am I dreaming?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

The stranger smiled and an eerie glow emanated from her; like an angel poised to take flight. "Be wary of the things you hear, little girl. There is always a wolf in sheep's clothing."

With these final words, the woman disappeared in a shimmering haze. Sara shielded her eyes against its stark brightness. Bounding to her feet, she ran home as fast as her tiny legs could carry her.