A Short Story for the Last Weekend of Summer

Happy Labor Day! I hope your summer has been everything you've hoped for. Today's post is my short story. This was my contribution to a writing prompt with a group of great authors on the Here Be Magic blog. I hope you enjoy it.

The Rocking Chair

The berries Olivia had gathered tumbled forgotten from her hands. A tremor touched her lips while the vision slammed behind her eyes. She didn’t doubt the vision’s truth. Sometimes a bright light, warm and comforting, accompanied the vision; other times the wind howled, cold and disturbing. Today, panic clearly filled the air.

She spun around trying to pinpoint a direction and abruptly stopped. Facing east, she licked her lips nervously and tasted the sweetness of the river. Her head snapped west and she watched the sun begin to dip behind the mountain and she ran. As she careened down the narrow trail, the outstretched branches tugged at her dress, pulled off her shawl and clawed at her face and arms. She took no notice. The cadence of her footfalls beat out a mantra, not yet, not yet, not yet. She rushed on faster, mumbling enchanted words under her breath.

She exploded out of the forest and stood on the wide riverbank. She scanned the area closely looking for signs. The old chair was under the canopy of trees, the boundary of her clan’s territory. She had dragged the chair there the day Colin left. How many days, weeks, months, ah yes, years ago? She came every evening and sat in the rocking chair to watch for him, to pray for him, to cry herself to sleep for him.

“Thank goodness,” she murmured and let loose a heavy sigh. She strained to make out the shadows in the darkening forest. She relaxed against the pine tree hugging her shawl around her and she once again watched the last red gold rays of sun slip behind the mountain. “Oh, Colin, you promised you’d come back to me in the red gold of sunset. How you promised to come back to me.” She gathered her strength and closed her eyes to the tears. “How I love you,” she whispered.

“Aye Lass, that you did and I didna’ tell you a tale.” Colin got up from the chair and turned toward her.

She looked at the warrior who was gone these two score years. “Colin?”

He said not a word only looked deeply into her eyes with a passion that made her heart skip a beat.

“I’ve waited Colin,” her eyes misted over.

“Yes, Livy. Come to me my love,” his hand reached for her.

She looked up the rise to the house noisy with family. A moment of fear ran through her and she quickly turned back to Colin relieved to see him still there. Her eyes slowly traced from his outstretched arm, up his broad strong chest but it was his eyes. “Oh,” she signed. She closed her eyes, how she loved those piercing gray eyes, how she had longed to see them again.

She took tentative steps towards him and suddenly turned and rushed back to the planted flowerbed in front of the rocking chair. On her knees she dug until she pulled out a small package wrapped in a swatch of tartan. She got up, sat in the rocking chair, and fumbled to remove the contents. At last a gold band spilt into her lap. She slipped it onto her withered finger. “Forever with you, my love,” she whispered seeing the passion in his eyes.

“Come to me, Livy.” His arms were opened wide.

She went willingly into his arms feeling light and young again.

“For eternity,” he whispered in the wind.