The Stones by Jan Darrow

Olivia had found the summer cottage while walking in the woods one day. A day full of blue sky and sun. It needed repairs, yes, but it wasn’t mournful. The moss on the roof was a brilliant green, but the doors were solid. The overgrown drive came up from the narrow road that ran past and curved down through a marsh full of cattails. But the road was rarely used anymore since the new highway had gone through. Tall grass waved in the wind before the sudden storm came that day. And it was while she stood in the pouring rain that she decided she would find the owners and convince them to sell her the property. 

Behind the exterior weathered wood walls and cedar roof was a forest of oak trees and pine. During the restoration she cleared ground around the cottage and planted roses, lavender, tall spires of lupins, foxgloves, and hollyhocks. Flowers she imagined the original owners grew. She bought furniture from a secondhand store to make the house complete.

It didn’t take long before she was astounded by the night sky, the moon, and the constellations. Having lived in the city she couldn’t believe all that she had been missing. 

Three miles to her east was a speck of a town not even big enough to be named anything except Grovers Corners. Just gas and a quaint grocery that Olivia loved. One day when she returned from shopping and pulled into her drive, she noticed the stones. Maybe 30 or so looking like they had erupted from the dirt like teeth. She got out of her car and moved them. There were no footprints. 

She felt uneasy and looked around before taking her groceries inside. She knew very well that she was in the forest alone.

Olivia sat on her porch that afternoon and couldn’t help but wonder. 

By early evening she thought briefly about going back to the city, but the night arrived, and the sky was clear and full of stars.

When she got into bed, she had made up her mind that in the morning she would leave…or no, she thought of something better. She pulled out her phone and called Cyril. When he answered she was relieved. She told him about the stones, and he laughed, but agreed to come the next day.

And with that she went to sleep.

At 3 am she woke to a crackling sound. An orange light danced on the wall opposite the window. She got out of bed and walked to the living room. From the window there she saw that the stones had moved into a circle around her car. Her car was on fire in a blaze of brilliant orange, red, and blue.

She screamed, but not before seeing the silhouette of a face more hideous and shocking than the beast itself and its glowing red eyes. 

Jan Darrow grew up in the rural Midwest where she connected with the natural world at an early age. Ghost stories are her favorite. Her collections of poetry and flash fiction are available on Amazon. You can also find her at Jan Darrow / Poetry and Fiction.