Sun Kissed Innsmouth
part 104
Felecia didn’t wait long after seeing Jacqueline off. She knew that daylight was fading and that the clock was ticking until Jacqueline would return from her trip foraging mushrooms and plants. Packing for the trip was hardly necessary, the rest of the day plucking through the mosquito swamps and through the meadow into the woods beyond. A night spent waiting for the masters and servants of the big house to settle down, a night spent making sure no one from the village was left to walk the pebble drives or play watch for Nana’s dwindling resources. Steal in and steal away and everything would be the break neck dash back to the cave. The clothes on her back would do. A couple of water skins. Her bow and arrows just in case. The poncho though, Felecia would have to do the unthinkable yet again to make her way through the swamp without being eaten alive.
The mud took time to be made and once mixed Felecia was hesitant to begin applying it to the outside of her poncho. Yet time was of the essence and the old witch had to be proven wrong. Smears of brown and yellow and yes red were streaked and blotted across the muddy exterior of the poncho before Felecia dared to done the item. Her own odd woodman mask was left behind for the trip. What would it matter if anyone recognized her or not, she would be a smelly trespasser on household grounds, open to all manner of detainment or punishment if caught.
Felecia made her way out to the ancient oak tree that still held court in the swamp and was careful to turn east while keeping the distant sound of ocean waves to her left. Jacqueline would understand, or come to. Unless the awful thing out in the water hauled its cruel bulk through the swampy waters and rammed one of its massive tentacles through the armoire doors just to murder one hen, Felecia was fairly certain she had time to gather what she needed to undo the thing when the time came.
Dusk was setting before Felecia finally broke through the last few yards of swampy woods and into the meadow. The ocean sounded strong there, it always did, but at that moment it sounded like a storming sea. The air was clear and clean, only a light breeze blew through the many plants of the meadow. The weather had held for a few days and looked to do the same, until Felecia looked north to the beach. Dark clouds were building out in the bay. Omens and portents, that’s how Jacqueline would have seen it. Weather like that had the old witch choosing to abandon their journey to the meadow a few times before.
Nothing was going to turn Felecia away from making one last trip to the big house. Not storm clouds out in the bay, not the phantom of the giant animal Felecia imagined was dancing out beyond the waves she could see under the light of the moon, and certainly not the collection of rag tag animals over by the tar paper house. Felecia knew what would happen if they caught sight or scent of her. She didn’t have time to bow to their demands for tasty morsels beyond the edge of the corral, or their demands for attention and certainly not their loud cries for water.
Felecia picked her way slowly around the edge of the meadow, away from the dark clouds and further toward what passed for the real forest on Aquidneck. A dozen yards, maybe two and the difference was immense. No more moist and acrid hell, no more constantly sweating and worrying over what had bitten or latched onto her. No more concerns over the severe waves crashing in on the pebble beach or what waited out in the bay beyond. Worry matched worry though as Felecia darted from one stand of trees to another on her way south. The permanent sense of cold that seemed to hug around the thin, malnourished looking trees south of the meadow was hard not to notice. Following quickly behind the deepening cold was the obscene quiet.
The swamp was always alive and it let you know so, the beach that butted up against it and jutted up along the length of the meadow as well. You knew there was life, it didn’t let you guess. Felecia hadn’t been in the swamp very long but the time there left its mark. Beside feeling instantly cold she also noticed the obvious lack of life in the true woods. The songs of frogs and constantly breeding insects was gone, the sounds of mysterious horrors splashing and slurping in the muddy water was replaced with the subtle movement of leaves only occasionally rustling in the breeze. The woods near the big house were sparse, nearly devoid of life, they were quiet because they were empty, so was the little river that ran near the edge of the village, so were the shallow rocky beaches of the southern stretch of the island. The land around the big house used for grazing chickens and goats was only fertile because of hard and constant work. Nothing seemed to live naturally or take root and thrive around there, not even in the hottest months. Felecia had been born and grew up around the lands owned by the big house, she had never before noticed just how empty and nearly dead everything there was compared to the rest of the world.