Our stars crossed long before we met. From faraway I’d heard her heart beating, felt her skin on mine. Anna Bellerose. Every breeze and twig snap had me turn.

“Two souls tangled in time,” the townsfolk said. Others murmured, “Damned” and spit upon the ground.

A single thread entwined our destiny. Controlled on a loom, the silk was measured and cut by the three Fates: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos.

Goddesses. At night, they stood in the heart of the forest, long robes lit by moonlight. Hands held, they circled and sang. Silvery notes chorused heavenward. Even the stars winked back.

In one moment, three women had proclaimed eternal law, a steel trust that sealed our submission. The stories of two lives were to play out without obstruction. Their magic art would drag me across territories, to leave me standing on a snow covered doorstep.

Winterland.

“Old souls,” the keeper said, as he led me to a darkened room.

Anna stood beneath a broken chandelier, trapped in the shadow of a single memory. Her face, a moon in a well to wish upon, her crooked crown, from a fairytale. On a table lay an open book.

I knew the tale. Spoken words locked in time had already pinned me to the page.

She turned to me.

I met her with a smile.

TBC

Winterland

YA Draft

Anna G. Watson

~ educator, aspiring writer, simple design and style