The Calling at Belshire

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. A young woman had come to her old family home for the last time. Her family had left it in shambles the night they escaped, and she saw no reason to try to maintain a husk of her early years. She had long since moved out of the cabin but now she was looking for an item that might help entertain her. Armed with naught but small candle, the woman stepped lightly through the remains. With the shadows of her old room shying away from her meager flame, she placed the candle in the window and began her search through decades of dust and discarded curios. It wasn't long before she found her mark. A small, round mirror set in a silver stand. Its two sides rotating between a floral pattern and a flawless reflective surface.

With prize in hand, she started towards the hallway when an idea struck her. She turned to look at the flame flickering in the window and smiled. Taking a few steps back, she moved the candle closer to the curtains until the fabric fed the starving flame. Her old sanctuary lit up like the sun. She skipped out of the room and over the bones of her old life with her prize. The woman took one last look at the cabin as the roof caved in, fueling the flames further. Oh well, it wasn't like her dead family would care. Now it was time to return to her new home.

Night after night ever since finding the property, the woman had lit a single candle to illuminate the forgotten majesty of the Belshire estate. She had traveled from her family home two miles away on a whim. Rather, it felt like something was teasing her at the edge of her consciousness. Massaging her mind, coaxing her deep into the woodland beyond the edge of her known world. The promise of an eternity of new experiences. She was not sure she should trust the pull but the promises it made were too tempting. It was not like her family paid her much attention anyway. She might as well have lived alone.

She came upon the Belshire home and became captivated by its allure. Something dark and mysterious. And altogether exciting. After one night alone among the shadows hidden in the foreboding halls, she felt a peace she had not known was possible. Like a part of her soul had been found, making her whole.

She returned again and again. Every night providing a new performance by invisible actors. It wasn't long before she moved in, traversing the now familiar two-mile trek to retrieve her scant belongings. A few clothes including her favorite crimson dress and her knitting needles. The transition would have seemed so natural if the estate were not in such disrepair, but she found it charming all the same. At night, she lit a single candle in her upstairs bedroom and waited for the evening's musings. Now however, she counted her mirror among her possessions and presented it as the centerpiece on the bedside table. With the room set, she restarted the clock.

Shiane May, oh Shiane May, who will visit you today?

The first night she had heard the front door hinges cry out in alarm, announcing the presence of someone stalking the entryway. Each tentative footstep finding every creaking floorboard like a rookie burglar. She had been so excited that she dropped her knitting needles on the floor. A chorus of chimes filled the dark halls, challenging winter blizzards for the coldest sensation. The silence that followed was fleeting as the footsteps rushed back out the front door. The woman sighed and watched the front yard for the would-be thief. Nothing. No surprise as she was yet to see anyone in her home despite the commotions.

Shiane May, oh Shiane May, who will hear your voice today?

The second night, she heard a poor soul stumble on the stairs. She tried in vain to hold her amusement and chuckled at the formless fool. Even with a light as bright as a star, they could not keep their footing. Defeated and embarrassed the entity retreated back down the stairs and out the door. So close.

Shiane May, oh Shiane May, what would your mother say?

On the third night, the woman was stunned to hear several feet crossing her floors. So overcome with excitement was she that her manners left her as she flew down the stairs. Her heavy boots bowing the old, polished stairs to their breaking point. Despite her efforts, the entryway and neighboring rooms were all empty. Devoid of any signs of life save her own. Dejected, she returned to her room and made a vow to be more patient.

Shiane May, oh Shiane May, are you feeling okay?

A week gone and still no signs of the strange figures returning. The lady thought of her family for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. She felt the flow of tears stream down her cheeks as she whimpered. Crystal rivers carving their way down her perfect features. She buried her face in her fluffed pillows and cried. Had she taken notice of the shy steps that entered the Belshire she might have ended the evening on a hopeful note. As it was, her cries warded off any intruders that might have visited her that night.

Shiane May, oh Shiane May, will you show me where you stay?

After an evening or two of recuperation, the lady resumed her nightly ritual. She was entranced with her knitting, following a pattern from a lifetime past. Were it not for her candlelight, she might have missed the entity that stood in the doorway. A dark haze, tall as a man. Shifting in and out of sight, it seemed in awe of her talent. She stopped to offer a stool for her guest but when she looked back it was gone. Though sad at its premature parting, hope was renewed in the woman's heart.

Shiane May, oh Shiane May, might I stay with you, from this day?

It was the following evening that marked the climax of her game. The highlight of the young woman's life. Again, she lit the candle in her window and again she waited for the entities to return. The air had a charge to it, almost as if Belshire itself was anticipating a new arrival. The front door swung open and closed with a purposeful force. Footsteps found every solid plank as they climbed the stairs. As the woman listened, she could feel the tension in the air. A sense of conviction and poise. Almost too good to be true but she held her breath until the shade made its way to her door.

She set down her needles and waited for the entity to find a seat. A stool in front of her mirror. It was then that she heard a sort of chant or song. When she focused on it, the image of the figure seemed to clear. Before her now sat a young man in some attire that lacked any rhyme or sense. His dark hair was slicked back and caught the candlelight with a refined shine. And his voice, oh his voice was what pulled her in the most. A confident tone riddled with equal parts kindness and determination. His words flowed like a creek emptying into the depths of her heart.

Shiane May, oh Shiane May, who will visit you today?

Shiane May, oh Shiane May, who will hear your voice today?

Shiane May, oh Shiane May, what would your mother say?

Shiane May, oh Shiane May, are you feeling okay?

Shiane May, oh Shiane May, will you show me where you stay?

Shiane May, oh Shiane May, might I stay with you from this day?

Shiane wrapped one arm around the man's shoulders and flipped her mirror over with her free hand. Any resolve or confidence she heard could not be found in the man's face for it was frozen in place. Neither able to comprehend or look away from the face staring back at him in the mirror. Shiane smiled a broad smile as she straightened out her crimson dress. She pulled her dark bangs away from her lifeless, snow-white eyes. She barely noticed the pale flesh going cold and breaking out in a sweat under her touch. She was just so happy that someone finally got to the end of her game.

A long knitting needle pressed against the panicked pulse running through the man's neck. His wide eyes screaming, pleading for the nightmare to end. Shiane planted a single kiss on his cheek pulling all color from his face. Her reply was soft, loving, and froze the blood in the man's veins.

"You may."