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aliceeverleighisawitch · 5 months ago

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Alice Everleigh is a Witch

June 8th, 2024

Chapter One: Insert Chapter name here.

There was a noise heard around the world. It was a strange symphony of oddball sounds like a thick rubberband twanging mixed with piano keys being tossed down a flight of stairs. It was sudden, and brief and everyone heard it.

There was a separation, between what seemed to me the rest of the world, at least the part of it online, and my small town on people’s willingness to talk about The Noise. Tiktok, the website formally know as Twitter, and even Instagram seemed filled with speculation. People posting ideas of what could of caused it, making memes, sampling in music, and even the hashtag #TheNoiseOutfit popped up. I spent a week scrolling through outfits that made up the tag. There was anything from what people actually wore when The Noise happened to what they planned on wearing if or when the noise came back. There were people wearing a variety of springs and accordings and other noisy things to jokingly appease our new sound based overlords to people wearing sexy clothing planning to seduce the sound. There was a tiktok that had been viewed well over 10 million times of a man holding a microphone up to an adorable all black kitten with large yellow eyes and asking “Please reveal the secrets of the universe to me,” followed up by a close up of the little kitten wearing a blank expression and The Noise playing. This the closest explanation that anyone had, and there was a weird sort of comfort in it. What the hell was the noise? Oh it was just cats. There were other explanations, dozens of youtube videos with consperiasy theories. Everything from aliens, to the rapture, to a noise the CIA was trying to cover up was offered up, but the one people clung to, that turned discomfort and unease into humor was the cat video. Humans love cat videos. At least on the internet they do.

Offline and in the small town of Moss Haven, Ohio things were different. When The Noise happened it was a Monday afternoon, during the last week of school. It was so abnormal that it halted conversation about graduation, college, and summer plans for students. I asked several teachers about The Noise and some offered general guesses (radio waves was offered, Mercury entering retrograde too soon, my favorite was the very tired English teacher suggesting it was a mass hallucination because no one on Earth is getting enough sleep) but mostly I was told to drop it. The topic was banned in school by Tuesday and by Wednesday the official White House response was that The Noise was the sound of space debris bumping into the moon and the echo could be heard on Earth. By Thursday a person who was involved in virtually every single aspect of life in Moss Hollow passed away and that was it. No one wanted to talk about The Noise anymore and anyone who tried was promptly shut down.

By Saturday, the first day of summer, it was time for my Grandmother’s funeral. The Shadow Hills Catholic Church was packed with the Moss Haven residents from her various organizations. The reception was held in the well manicured gardens behind the church. It was a beautiful summer day, and it seemed like most people would rather be anywhere but at a funeral.

The funeral was the easy part. I just sat with my stone faced family at the front of the church. We all just listened to people talk about a woman that I only had a handful of unpleasant interactions with. By the dry eyes of the funeral attendees I couldn’t help but think the most of them felt the same. Grandmother, by all accounts I had herd so far, was a miserable person.

The reception afterwards was the hard part. For me. And only me. The church gardens were packed with people, eating, laughing, knowing how to communicate with eachother without be awkward. My existence felt awkward.

Moss haven was tight knit town where everyone knew everyone. My mother was surrounded by a group of women with similar outfits and similar hair cuts all with variations of quality and color. They stood right by the set of stairs that led into the church parallel to the tables lined with food. Anyone one heading in or out or to get some food would have to stop and acknowledge my mother and offer up their condolences for her loss. I lingered nearby, piling mac and cheese onto my plate listening to her conversations.

“I bet my mom would be thrilled to know that her funeral not only was held on the first day of summer, but effectively and utterly overshadowed my own divorce. I had to drop everything to plan her funeral.” My mother sighed resting her nad in her palm, “Its just so frustrating.”

“I can’t believe what a hypocrite she was, honestly,” One of my mother’s friends drolled, “I remember her snapping at me for smoking outside the grocery store on three seprate occasions. Turns out she smoked so many cigrattes that it killed her. I bet she wouldn’t love everyone knowing that about her.” The woman laughed together but the sound died down slightly Father Grimes approached.

“Again, my condolences, Melissa.” The priest took my mother’s hands in his, and she nodded solemnly, “The loss of one’s parent is a terrible thing, but it is inevitable one also.”

“Thank you father, for your kind words.” My mother gave his hands a squeeze, “I’m just sad we never made up. She’s been out of my life for nearly eighteen years. She never really got to know my children. I always thought someday… but someday never came.”

Father Grimmes gently patted mother’s hand, “Valerie,” he said referring to grandmother, “was always a pious woman. Rest assured that she’s at peace now, and one day the two of you will be reunited.” The priest, still with my mother’s hands in his smiled, “Perhaps when the time is more appropriate we can discus plans your mother had made for her inn.”

“What plans for the inn?” I asked. My mother, her friends, and the priest all turned to stare at me. I could feel pin prinks of heat spread from my cheeks up to the tips of my ears at effectively admitting to eavesdropping.

The priest dropped his hands to his sides, “Your grandmother wanted to give it to the church. We were going to convert it to a catholic boarding school.”

Nervously I flicked my eyes up to the hill where a giant victorian building sat. It was the building which my grandmother lived in her whole life. She and her sister helped run the in with their mother. And my great grandmother ran it with her father. The inn was passed down for generations. In the history museum there was a chart dating the building owner ship back to before Moss Haven even existed. It was one of the oldest buildings in the area. It was the oldest business for sure, till grandmother shut it down and let no one near it.

“Really, did my mom promise you that?” My mother gave the priest a half smile, “Nancy Beaucannon spoke to me about turning it into a country club. And Mayor McCormick wanted to buldoze the building and turn it into a luxury resort.”

Father Grimmes paled, “Well, yes. I pray that you consider all your options, Melissa.”

I paled too. For different reasons. I set down my giant plate of macaroni. At some point apparently I just kept piling it on without realizing it, and now it was just a giant cheezy glob that glistened with grease and… were there olives in it? Uck, potluck chefs. I suddenly wasn’t in the mood for food.

I passed by groups of people all talking, and laughing. It seems now that the funeral was over, the reception had become a huge town wide social event. I tried to slink through the crowd without being seen. Realistically I knew not a soul would pay attention to me, but there was something so vulnerable being alone in a crowd. From a far I spotted my dad who was sitting at a table surrounded by his coworkers and friends. His hands were waving around animatedly as he talked about…. I paused to listen,

“The gilded age contained such beauitiful ariteture. Everything was ornately designed- at least for the uber wealthy. But as a historian I must remind that such structures were made possible by such a huge wage gap disparity. The very people who built such mansions would be the same people who would never be allowed to sleep in them!”

“Are you saying that is directly related to today’s style of mansions?” a colleague asked.

“Not at all, but also yes!” My dad’s glasses slid to the tip of his nose and he excitedly as added, “There is a very similar wage disparity today, but I would say that as more people embrace the ability to create their own ideal interiors-there is a rise in Do It Yourself decore as well as huge thrifting market-the more the uber wealthy embrace minimalism. Oh hello, Everleigh.” Dad pushed his glassed back up his nose and offered me a smile.

“Hi dad.” I replied, part of me though of sitting in the safety of my dad’s presence. I’d fell l “Where is Vivian?”

“She’s with your friends,” he pointed towards the edge of the garden where a group of people gathered. In the center was a slender framed girl with large gray eyes and chestnut colored hair that was down to the small of her back. It was always so strange to see my own face move around the world with a such a stern expression. Vivian always was so serious. Her eyes met mine for a brief second before she glanced away. I narrowed my eyes. She was pretending she didn’t see me. It made sense. She was with her friends and boyfriend. They definitely weren’t my friends. They hadn’t been in awhile. At least now that we wer graduated I wasn’t forced to be with them.

“I’m going for a walk,” I told my dad. There was a walking path behind the church. Moss Haven was surrounded by Ohio’s Metro Parks. There were trails weaved through out most of the woods in the area. They were mosty just dirt paths formed by millions of shoes walking through the beautiful trails, trees stretched overhead only letting shreds of sunlight through their leaves. The trails were mostly brown, save for those green, green leaves. Aside from the trail, the land was covered in a healthy layer of leave litter this time of year. Occasionally there were spots where lilies poked through the ground, or a clearing filled with grass but mostly brown leaves. Every so often there was a scurry from under the pile from a chipmunk or a squirrel, or the hoof beats of a deer. The majority of sound was coming from birds. So many birds. All trilling and chirping and cawing and every single one was singing. I paused along the trail to take a deep breath in and listen. The air was clean and fresh this far away from town. Not that Moss Haven smelled bad. Rather it smelled like bread. Which made sense because a crossed the Cuyahoga River in the middle of town was the bread factory. Which made bread. Bread factory.

But the air in nature smelled of moss, and leaves, and the streams the were nestled among the hills and fizz. I opened my eyes and took a deep inhale. There was definitely the smell of fizz. It was as if someone had opened a thousand cans of pop at once. But with rather generous hint of floral perfume. And slowly it was drowning out the smell of the woods. I took a few steps along the trail but something was wrong. I had walked these trails for most of my life. I was familiar with them.

Where there was suppose to be a straight line that lead towards town was sudently a fork in the road. One path seemed gloomy, the leaves and trees faded away towards a hedge lined path and cobblestone road. The side of the path rose up to a grassy hill barren of trees, instead there were sparse grave stones. The hair on my neck stood on end. There was a pull to this path and the closer I got to it, the more I could feel… fizzy. Thousands of inviable bubbles were popping against my skin the longer I looked at the path, the more the fizz sensation encaplated my skin. The sound birds was gone, replaced by what seemed to be millions of glass beads beating against eachother.

The other path was a river. The trail split off and led into golden colored waters with petals floating a its surface. This path at least seemed to have trees, though the bent together over the water, branches joining together to form a ceiling. The aroma of roses and lilacs wafted from the river, which was odd. The flower petals drifting along were purple wisteria petals. I could tell because they were dripping from the walls. The tree walls. I was standing on dry land, but my body was being to fee waterlogged, heavy and stiff. Far off in the distance I could hear windchimes.

Two unfamiliar, impossible paths lay before me. Both clearly having a strange effect on me. Which one? Which one? Which way should I go? Down the path of darken skies and graveyard hills or down the path of golden waters and leaf canopies? My mouth went dry, my feet shuffled foreward. Pick one, I had to pick one. I drifted towards the fizzy, gravelined path, its pull was stronger.

“Everleigh!” A familiar and welcome voice shouted, “Everleigh! Where are you?” My heart beat a little faster. I forced myself to blink, letting the pull of the paths fall away. Carefully, I reached down and pulled my phone. I stared at the pathways through the screen of my phone. The draw of them was still there but less strong. So I photo graphed them.

“Everleigh!” The voice of my best friend called out.

Not wanting her to be pulled in by these strange and unusual trails I yelled back over my shoulder, “Coming!” When I turned back the walking path had returned to normal.

Kat Bennette had been my best friend since I was six years old and her family moved to Moss Haven. Prior to highschool Vivian use to be her best friend too. She was the only person I felt comfortable around, and that would listen to what ever I wanted to talk about.

On the day of my grandmother’s funeral I found her on the edge of the forest, “There you are!” She smiled, “I didn’t want to walk into the woods on account of-” She gestured to the green chiffon dress that matched her emerald braids.

“Wow, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since we graduated and you already got new braids!” I gasped.

“My aunt came over, and she and mom helped me get it done. Sorry we didn’t come to the funeral. You know how my parents feel about Catholism.” We started walking back towards the church gardens. The air was hot, and worse, humid. When we left the shade of the trees it felt almost oppressive.

“I know how Father Grimmes feels about people who don’t attend his church coming to Shadow Hill’s Church events. I’m surprised he let my dad in.” I replied.

“Well Niles is probably did all the event planning,” Kat replied, “You’re mom was never good at that kind of thing..” Her voice trailed off and she stopped in place, glancing towards the vegetable garden surrounding but a fence to keep the deer from eatting the plants.

“The tomatoes are droopy.” Kat pointed at a sad looking plant that seemed to buckle under the weight of its green tomatoes. I squinted past her finger toward the other side of the fence where a face identical to mine stared back. I stared back at the gray doe eyes currently narrowed into a displeased frown.

Now it was my turned to ignore her. I turned toward my attention towards Kat who was unlocking the gate and letting herself in. She bent down and examined the sad and droopy plant before glancing up around the rest of the garden. Her eyes landing on a large, thick oak.

“There!” She pointed towards a large stick that had fallen off the tree resetting between to branches, “I need that.”

“On it!” I grabbed the closet branch and pulled myself up. The leaves rustled as I moved slowly, making my way gently to the stick. When I reached it I pushed it off the tree, “Look out below!” There was thud as it hit the ground.

“I got it! I got it!” A blond boy with a permanent smile etched on his face took bounding steps towards the stick, “What do you need it for?” He asked, handing it to Kat.

Kat pulled the stick through the gaps in the fence and carried the it to the sad tomato plant. She pressed it gently deep into the ground, “I wanted a support for this guy, anyone have a hair tie or some string I could use?”

“Oh!” The guy, my sister’s boyfriend Kyle remarked excitedly, “I have my tie and my back up tie. My dad always expects me to lose them.” Kyle Edison never really knew what was going on, but he was always eager to help out. Almost everything he did, he did it with a smile plastered to his face.

“That will work,” Kat took them from Kyle and tied the less sad looking plant to the stick, “There! Thanks.”

“Kyle, you’re so sweet to help them.” Amber Beacannon stood beside Kyle. Her silky red hair shined in the sunlight. Amber was once my friend. Amber was also a mean girl. Not the kind you’d find in movies or tv shows. There were no overtly witty one liners or a tragic back story that made her sympathetic to the audience. No, Amber was subtle.

Her eyes slowly glanced me up and down, a small formed on her lips, “Alice-Everleigh I almost didn’t recognize you.” She smiled, but the smile was directed at my sister and her two other friends. There was barely contained snickers. My sister’s face remained neutral. “You’re dressed so… Plainely compaired to normal.”

“Frog overalls!” One of the other girls giggled, referring to my often worn overalls that indeed had a frog on them.

“Funny,” replied Kat as she exited the vegetable garden, “Because you look the same. Even now, at a funeral, your outfit looks the same as it always does. Good for you for maintaining such consistency with your looks. Do you think entering college will prompt a change in both your wardrobe and temperament?”

Amber’s eyes narrowed at Kat, who turned towards me, “Have you eaten?”

“Uh, no.” I glanced at from Amber to Vivian to Kyle. Kyle was busy looking at the tomatoes through the fence. I spared the plant a glance, it was indeed looking less sad. The little green tomatoes already looking a bit more red and ripe. I turned back to Kat, “I could eat.”

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