1. Windy Poets

CLOVER

Click.

“Thanks, Miss Etty!” I say as I wait for the picture to print from the old polaroid camera.

Miss Etty’s store is by far my favorite spot in this town. She has tons of odd fabric and yarns, along with all sorts of supplies, all decorated with some sweet, old southern charm. She has rows and rows of hand-painted plates and things lining the back wall, which I made sure to get in the photo.

“You sure I can’t convince you to stay, dear?” She playfully bumps her shoulder into mine, and her eyebrows wiggle. “We have lots of sweet gentlemen in town.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Nope. No can do. I can’t stay anywhere for too long. After all, I need to keep meeting amazing store owners like you, Miss Etty.”

“Well, at least come visit me at my stall tomorrow. I’ll be selling my newest pieces.” She gestures at an array of painted knickknacks drying out on newspapers along one of the checkout aisles.

I shake out the photo. “Oh, that does sound nice.” I suppose one more night wouldn’t hurt. “All right, I’ll visit you at the market tomorrow and say goodbye. But no men for me. I gotta keep my travel bug happy,” I tell the nice old woman as I show her the photo.

She smiles and shakes her head, her gray curls bobbing against her dark brown shirt. “Pity, my dear. My grandson needs a ray of sunshine like you. He’s always so moody and grouchy.” She huffs.

I smile and giggle. “People can be moody sometimes. He just needs to spend time with you more often. I’m sure you can brighten anyone’s day.” I give her a bright smile as I slide the photo into my small crocheted bag of grays and blues with frayed sewed-on patches. It’s not my best work, but it does its job. I glance through one of the painted windows at the darkening street.

I spin towards the door. “You should tell that grandson of yours to visit you more often.”

“Oh, I will.” She chuckles. “And don’t forget your yarn, dear!”

I turn and rush back. “Shoot. Right. The yarn,” I say with a laugh, grabbing the bag from her hand. I wave and skedaddle out the door.

The small street is mostly empty. The brisk night has long since taken over this small town. Hmm… I should have brought my sweater. A cool fog has settled into a thick layer along the street. It reminds me of something out of a creepy horror movie, but it’s oddly calming. I love the old creepy movie things almost as much as the romantic ones.

I make it to the corner and push the pedestrian light button. My van, Suisy, is still parked across the street where I left her. My eyes catch on the odd red glow above.

“Pretty!”

I exhale in awe as a bright blood moon peeks over the few trees scattered in this town. “It’s red…

Roses are red

And so is the moon

My friends are the best

But they leave too soon.

With stitch and thread

They get a boon

And are my guests till far past noon!”

The breeze picks up, and a weird voice I don’t recognize responds to my poem.

“What’s past is forgotten

The curse lingers on

The Calla line ends when the last one is gone

To fix what is broken

The anchors are key

When you find Spells Hollow

You’ll set yourself free!”

“Oh, how lovely!! Thank you for joining me, weird wind voice!!”

The breeze dies down, and the moon and the sky crack and shatter like glass. I take a deep breath and watch in wonder as reality shifts around me, far faster than it ever has before. The sky changes into a darker purple hue with no stars, just a massive crimson moon that takes up most of the skyline.

The street on a calm evening has vanished, and in its place is a gleaming meadow speckled with bright yellow flowers that sway in a breeze I don’t feel surrounded by a vast tree line. Not a single building in sight.

I tap my chin. “Hmmm, I knew I stayed in town too long.”

“MIP!” Will I look like a crazy person for screaming “Mip” at the top of my lungs to everyone else in this town who can’t see what I am seeing?

Yes. Yes, I will.

Do I care? Not so much.

Traveling all the time taught me people come and go in life, and caring about others’ opinions will only leave you disappointed and confused.

“Mip, are you there?!”

I wait.

“Mip?!”

…

“Mip! Assistance please! I promise not to give you a potato head next time.”

Nothing responds.

Well, shit.

Chirp, chirp

“All crosswalks are now on.”

Do I rush and cross it? Eventually, I’ll run into Suisy or the old motel across the street. There weren’t any cars. I can’t stay here forever either.

The fade never goes away unless I leave.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“I can do this.” I start to move, listening to the steady beep of the crosswalk sign.

A tall figure bursts out of the tree line, and I freeze, catching their gaze. What the?—

They stare back, looking just as dumbfounded as I feel.

“You’re a person,” I say.

They move so quickly I don’t even see it. One moment they are at the tree line, and in the next, they are in front of me. Okay, maybe not a person…

I’ve never seen a person on the other side. Or vampires, humans, shifters, demons, or, well, anything from this reality on that side. Just the moon, my friends, and— Nope, not gonna think about it.

I stare up at the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. They have the type of face people would go to war for.

Captivating. Stunning. Ethereal. Their long hair is a dark cyan on the outside but seems to glow a bright green on the inside, highlighting his strong jaw, rosy lips, and cunning eyes. This… person is clearly male, and he’s absolutely beautiful.

“Wow,” I say, slightly stunned. “I didn’t know people could be so pretty,” I say, mostly to myself.

His eyes, a soft pale green, almost seem to shine in the night.

His shirt is torn across his side with three jagged tears, allowing his abs to peek out from the rips. It looks like something from those old-timey 1800s TV shows; you know, the ones with flared out sleeves that hug tightly to their very firm-looking male chest. It’s a unique style choice. I wonder if he tore it on purpose. It does go rather well with his long hair and the straight gray pants that have silver buttons on the front. It seems like something is missing. The entire outfit is disheveled, like he just rolled around in the woods.

I move a little closer and look him up and down.

Something is definitely missing.

He stares at me, eyes still wide and his mouth open slightly.

“Ahh, it’s a hat! You are missing one of those tall top hats men used to wear.” It would complete his look. “Though you might need to repair your clothes first, or you can get a worn hat with patches! Like that hat collector guy.”

His jaw snaps shut, and he raises a brow. “Have I gone mad?” His voice rolls over me like sweet honey on a drizzly morning as he runs his hand into his hair, pushing it back and tugging on it slightly.

I wonder what his hair feels like. That’s an odd thought. Even for me.

A loud horn blares, and I gasp, my eyes going wide. I whirl to rush by the man.

“Wait!” He grasps my shoulder and the whole world snaps back into place. The foggy street and small town are back before me. I gasp, my head spinning from the abrupt change.

A horn blares louder this time.

“What?” I blink a few times, turning to the sound.

Two bright yellow lights rush directly towards me, and the horn blares again. Brakes screech against the pavement. It’s moving too fast. I’m not gonna make it.

I shut my eyes and hold my breath, bracing for the pain. The world spins again, and warm arms wrap around me. My head is pressed against something firm, and my hands, tucked between our bodies, grip his shirt like a lifeline. At least I’m not alone.

His hand cups the back of my head, and my feet leave the pavement. Wind rushes past us for a moment, then we tumble to the ground before rolling to a stop. My breath whooshes from my lungs, and my rescuer lets out a grunt. The thrumming of my heart drowns out the sounds around us.

I slowly open my eyes, confused. My rescuer’s clenched jaw tics above me as he glares at something behind us. A few moments later, he looks back down at me, his features softening.

“What was that beast? Are ye hurt?”

I open and close my mouth a few times.

I’m not dead.

“Breathe, madam. I have thee.”

I gasp in a labored breath.

“In and out. There you go.”

I nod, following his breaths. “Thank you, um…”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Aldrich. You can call me Aldrich,” he says, then rolls us into a sitting position with me on his lap.

“I-I’m Clover,” I reply, trying to smile through chattering teeth. “Thank you for saving me, Aldrich.” I move to stand, but my arms feel like Jell-O, and Aldrich doesn’t let me go. Which, strangely enough, is perfectly fine with me.

“You’re shaking,” he says as he rises to his feet in one smooth movement, keeping me in his arms.

I would be very impressed under any other circumstance.

I nod. “Mhm… S-s-seems so. We did almost g-get flattened by a truck. Do you think the driver is okay?” I say, turning to look in the direction the truck was going. It seems to have kept going.

“Someone was controlling that thing ? Why would you fret if he was okay?” He shakes his head, his brows furrowed, then gives me that this-woman-might-be-insane look people give me so often.

“Wh-What if they were hurt?” My whole body feels like it is vibrating.

“Then let them worry about themselves. Do you have somewhere to rest?” He looks around the street, and I point at my van. His nose crinkles, but he moves towards it.

A scream rents the quiet air.

We whip around in time to see Miss Etty pointing at us from the side of the street. I look up at Aldrich, then back at Miss Etty.

“I’m okay, Miss Etty. Just a bit of a scare,” I call.

She covers her mouth and lets out a sob. Aldrich moves us closer, and she stumbles back. “Stay back, ghost!”

I am thoroughly confused. “There are no ghosts, Miss Etty.”

She shakes her head and looks back and forth. “You are a floating ghost now. Oh, my dear. It all happened so fast. Oh my God, you poor child.” Tears brim her eyes.

Floating? Oh, she can’t see Aldrich. He must be like Mip and my other spirit friends.

Miss Etty shakily holds her cell phone. She must have put it on speakerphone because a moment later, a no-nonsense voice rings out strong and clear: “911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’d like to report a-a hit and run.” Miss Etty lets out a sobbing wail. “This poor girl was hit by a truck.”

My eyes go wide. I struggle in Aldrich’s arms, and he quickly puts me down, though still holds me steady. I reach towards her. “Miss Etty, I really am fine.”

She starts sobbing harder. Crap.

I look back at Aldrich. “Let’s go to the van quickly,” I say.

I lift his hand from my shoulder and tug him towards Suisy. Looks like I am leaving town tonight.