His Pretty Little Obsession

*Sage*

The Smoky Mountains were technically a rainforest. They were a deciduous rainforest, and it was a fact that people didn't seem to know. But as you looked out across the way the moisture rose from the trees in the misty haze that gave the mountains their name, you'd have to believe it. As the tendrils of fog lifted their hands heavenward, reaching for a sun they'd never meet, it was easy to see why the place inspired ghost stories and folklore.

My grandmother was superstitious. She believed you should never pick up a penny that wasn't heads-up. She wouldn't walk under ladders, and she always knocked on wood. She never told secrets while standing near a mirror, in case someone on the other side could hear her.

She worried over faerie rings for as long as I could remember. In the spring and the summer, when I would come to visit her house, she was constantly warning me about them.

"Don't step in that ring," she would call to me, gesturing toward the brown-capped mushrooms that grew in a perfect circle.

I used to tease her, acting like I was going to take a step into the circle until she would come flying off the front porch and snatch me away from the edge.

She had an odd habit though. She buried daffodil bulbs in tight circles around her little patch of land in the woods, and sometimes at night, in the spring, I would see her follow lightning bugs out to the little circles of flowers. She would stand at the edge and peer in, smiling and chattering in the dark night.

I never went outside to see what she was doing on those nights, but I always imagined someday I would ask her and she'd tell me something equally as ridiculous as all the other old wives tales she tried to convince me of.

The memory of all her peculiar ways brought a fresh wave of grief washing over me. My grandmother passed away when I was a teenager, leaving her little cottage in the mountains to my mother. My mother rented the cabin out until the day she died. I hadn't realized she'd been saving up the money for me when she decided the time was right.

Apparently, the time was right when she died from a staph infection last month.

So, when the attorney informed me that everything my mother and grandmother had now belonged to me, I was shocked. I waited for a couple of weeks, until after the funeral, to come up here. There was enough money squirreled away for me to stay here for at least a year without having to find a job.

I'd find myself a job around here somewhere, just as soon as the grief wasn't so raw.

Pulling up in front of the house, I was shocked to see what good condition the cabin was kept in, all the way down to my grandmother's rings of daffodils blooming in the yard. I parked my jeep and got out, admiring the home.

It was a log construction, brightened with plaster to insulate the house, and decorated with flowers and ferns. It was as magical and tempting as I remembered it. I hated that I hadn't visited since my grandmother passed away, but once she was gone, there was nothing holding me to this place.

Now, it was all I had left of my family.

I didn't know my father, and so my mother and her mother were the only family I'd ever known, and without them, I was utterly alone in this world. Maybe now that I had my own house, and I wasn't living in an apartment, I could get a pet. A cat would be nice, and maybe a big dog to help me feel protected.

Of course, I could also download a dating app, maybe find someone to help pass the time. That would be nice. I'd been lonely for a little too long.

The inside of the house was practically a snapshot of my childhood, and I almost couldn't breathe as I stood inside the doorway. The horseshoe that my grandmother had hung over the door was still nailed in place, the ornate iron door handle to the door polished and original. I stepped through the house, listening to the floorboards creak, peering at each room as if I just might find my mother and my grandmother sitting in one of the rooms somewhere waiting to talk to me.

The house was empty though, and I turned on the TV so that it wouldn't sound so lonely in here.

There were plants in almost every room, hanging from the ceiling or sitting on windowsills. They were incredibly green and vibrant, and it made the house feel alive, almost as if it were a living, breathing being itself.

I carried in the luggage I had, trying to hurry before it got dark. I didn't want to be outside after dark. Not that I was afraid, it was just that my grandmother had told me enough stories about the spooky things that went bump in the night to make it easy to decide that I wasn't interested in being caught out after sunset.

My big suitcase made it hard to see my feet. I realized that I nearly walked right through a circle of brown mushrooms, stumbling to the side to avoid stepping in it. I cursed myself for being superstitious, but it seemed like bad luck to risk anything on my first day here.

Yet again, I wished that I had someone to share this with. Maybe someone would laugh at my silly superstitions, helping me carry my meager belongings into the house.

I unpacked slowly, realizing I was under no time crunch. I had no job to get to, and no one waiting on me to finish this task and move on to something new. Loneliness washed through me like cold rain, goosebumps rising on my skin and making me nervous. It would take some getting used to, being alone out here.

The sun set faster than I expected it to, sinking below the tree line and disappearing in what felt like minutes. The porch lights twinkled in the dark, and I had to admit that the sound of the croaking frogs and crickets singing made me feel at ease. There was an understandable appeal to the way this house made a person feel. It was so removed from the rest of the world, it was almost like you were in a whole new realm.

I changed into a white shift that I used as a nightgown. Call me old-fashioned, but it was comfortable and breathable, and the air conditioning in this house was questionable at best. For dinner, I did my best to scrounge up something based on the groceries I had brought with me. Tomorrow, I would shop for more substantial groceries, but I hadn't really put a lot of thought into needing to eat in the last few days.

I sat down on the aging plaid couch to watch a little television before bed. I wanted to turn my mind off for a little while and relax. If I could distract myself enough, I might even start to relax a little.

The show was a story about a woman who traveled through time and fell in love with a man from a different time period. The drama and the passion were interesting enough, I enjoyed getting wrapped up in the story.

I didn't know that I fell asleep.

When I woke up, the television was playing some sort of outdated sports coverage. It was so dark outside that it looked like someone had put black construction paper over my windows, with the exception of a few pinpricks of light.

There was a singing noise, a sound so beautiful it nearly broke my heart. I couldn't believe how lovely the sound was, and I needed to know the source. All my senses left me, and I went straight for the front door.

It was as if I was in a trance, pulling the front door open and peering out the screen door. I didn't remember turning the porch lights off, but they were dark, and it was hard to see out. There was a little trail of light drifting toward the trees though, and I felt compelled to follow it.

My grandmother had told me about something called will-o'-the-wisps when I was a kid, and that's what this should have reminded me of, had I had any presence of mind at the moment. I was just so utterly captivated by the music that I was desperate to know the source.

I stepped out, following the little trail of lights. As soon as I reached one, it would disappear, only for another one to appear just a few feet away. The music grew louder, and I tripped after it, stepping into the cool cover of the trees.

The ring of mushrooms was so small I never would have realized it was a faerie ring. At least, that's what I would tell myself for nearly a lifetime after I stepped into it, tumbling through it.

The world went silent and black, and I felt air rushing past my face. My hair whipped around me, my shift dress fluttering as if I were falling hundreds of feet, rather than just tumbling to the woodland floor.

I hit the ground much harder than I expected, and it knocked the breath out of me. It was no longer nighttime, but instead the warm golden hour before sunset. Green leaves were bathed in soft light, and I collapsed onto the ground in a heap.

Ouch.

I stood up, rubbing at my head, though I was fairly sure I hadn't hit it in the fall.

I was dreaming. I was certain that I was dreaming and that's all this was. I pinched myself. Nothing happened. It wasn't a particularly painful pinch though, so I pinched myself harder. Maybe I was dreaming earlier and now I was awake?

Turning back in what should have been the direction of the house, I started marching back, determined to make sense of this.

However, there was no house in that direction. As a matter of fact, there was nothing familiar at all in that direction. I looked all around the woodland, trying to get my bearings. I stopped and stood still, debating my next move. I couldn't stand around forever in my pajamas, especially not at this hour. My bare feet hurt from the rough terrain, and I was tired.

I turned my head and realized that there was a broad path just a few feet up a hill ahead. That might be easier on my feet. I could maybe meet some of my new neighbors. It would be embarrassing, but if they were friendly, this could just be a story we could all laugh about later.

As I reached the road, I leaned against a tree to rest, looking in either direction. Turning my head to the left, there was nothing. Turning my head to the right, I jumped.

Well, this wasn't anywhere near my grandmother's house, and that man was definitely not my neighbor.

Something about the cloaked figure just down the road made icy dread shoot through me like lightning, and my feet moved almost involuntarily. I could hear his heavy boots slam on the dirt path, and I was racing back the way I came.

Thorns tore at my arms and legs, snagging on my nightgown. Tree roots practically leapt out of the ground and tripped me, and I fell to the ground in a panting mess. I scrambled to my hands and knees, trying to get back up.

I froze in fear though, realizing the stranger had caught up to me. The most beautiful stranger I'd ever seen in my life.