The Hagstone

The Hagstone

The dark rain clouds moved in quickly. Two hours ago, the cloud cover was thin and white like the peel of sunburned skin. Eva watched the clouds from the upstairs window of her vacation rental. The roomy house sat upon a cliffside, just like a castle with a view of its kingdom. She felt protected from any dangers that crept around below but a thunder storm made her feel slightly vulnerable, especially since she was alone. The grey clouds became thick with moisture and fat raindrops began to fall. It was the season’s first major rainstorm with a forecast of more to come.

The taxi dropped her off only two days ago for her spring holiday in Hastings, UK. The magnolia trees had barely begun to flower. Against the dark sky their purply-pink blooms offered a stark contrast. She sighed. She travelled all this way from Canada.Eva had plans to finish working on her poem collection here in Hastings, hoping to be inspired by the ocean and the beauty of the region. Her poetry book was due to the publisher in a month but this weather was crushing her motivation.

A silent chill flowed in from somewhere. Eva went to check the lower floor’s windows.The house had a walk-in basement with a rumpus room and a bedroom downstairs. She noticed the bedroom window was open. This window faced a large open space which led to the edge of the cliff. The stone floor was cold and wet. She walked carefully to the window and looked out. The rain continued and the wind was beginning to pick up. The temperature had plummeted. At the edge of the cliff, a lonely magnolia tree stood ragged against the torment of coastal air. Its blossoms bright and breathtaking despite its cruel and punishing location. A red wooden canoe rested against the trunk, tied loosely to the base with a frayed length of rope. Swirls of last year’s leaves curled like little tornadoes and floated out into the ocean far below. Eva knew that a winding path followed the cliffs down to the churning water but she couldn’t imagine portaging a canoe down there.

Eva reached over and closed the window but knocked the hagstone collection off the sill.

She picked up one stone and examined it. It was grey and smooth with a small natural hole at one end; it felt warm in her hand. She felt a shiver down her neck. Holding it up to the window she peered through the hole, focusing on the magnolia tree. Eva saw some movement from under the canoe. Was it a cat? She remembered the stray cat she saw yesterday.A thin grey tabby; he rubbed against her leg then wandered off. Was that him out in the rain? She couldn’t really tell. She pocketed the stone and bent down to pick up the other rocks.

When she looked up, on the windowsill sat the grey cat. Eva stumbled backward and the hagstones clattered to the floor.She stared in disbelief. Her voice squeaked, “Hello kitty. How did you get in here?” The hagstone in her pocket became warm. In her mind she heard a voice. “Through the stone you will see.” She pulled out the stone. It vibrated softly with a rhythmic pulse. Shakily, she held it to her eye and peered at the cat. It was not a cat. The creature resembled a gargoyle with large clawed front feet, huge bat ears and a short bird beak. Its back was arched and spiked. Its skin glowed silver. She screamed. The gargoyle vanished and Eva dropped to the ground. The rock suddenly turned cold. She shook her head. What the hell was that?

She got up and looked outside again. The cat stood at the edge of the cliff and jumped. Eva spun around and slid to the floor. She hugged her legs and rocked. That was not real, that was not real. Thunder boomed outside. What the hell was going on? Her brain tried to process what happened . . . the stone allowed her to see hidden things? A creaking from the other room caught her attention. Eva crawled to the doorway. The stone warmed. In the room an empty chair rocked. Warily she placed the stone to her eye. In the chair was an old man smoking a cigar, bleeding from his head. Behind him stood a woman with a charred face, an elderly lady gasping for breath, and a pale child with a bald head and sunken eyes. They stretched out their arms to Eva. The cigar man stood and shuffled toward her. Eva scrambled up. She shoved the stone in her pocket and looked away but could hear the drag of his feet edging closer. Furiously she grabbed at the front door handle.

The door opened to a torrent of icy rain.Eva stumbled toward the magnolia tree. A streak of lightning flashed as she reached the canoe. She struggled with the canoe’s weight but managed to wedge herself under its hull to hide from the spirits. Her body trembled with chill. The air was thick under the canoe and an unsettling quiet filled the space. She felt the hagstone’s warmth building. She looked through the rock’s hole. When the sky sparked again, she saw the house spirits had followed.Tears streamed down her face. The stone burned in her hand.

“Help me, someone please.”

The grey cat appeared beside her. “I can only warn you. I cannot protect you.”

Eva heard its words in her mind. “Who are you?”

“I am Amabie, a sea spirit that inhabits the hagstone. But my powers are limited.”

“What do the ghosts want?”

“The stone.”

“But there are hagstones all over the house.”

“That is why the spirits are in this home - they are attracted to the stones. They are trapped here though. Possession of the stone will free their soul. But the stone only responds to human intention.”

“They can have it! I’ll toss it out there.”

“It is not that easy. You can give it to only one spirit . . . though you may want to keep it for yourself.”

Amabie disappeared and Eva felt the canoe move.She grasped the wooden seat, the stone pressed hard into her hand. The spirits pushed at the canoe trying reach her. Another push. The force moved the canoe to the edge of the cliff. Eva couldn’t breathe. Tears filled her eyes. The rope pulled tight. The final push left her dangling from the canoe. She screamed. Madly she kicked her feet trying to catch a spot on the cliff. Finally, Eva’s foot landed on a crag and she stopped swinging. A sudden calmness filled her body and the air became quiet. The hagstone, now embedded in her hand, began to cool. She looked up to the cliff’s edge and could see the spirits, she no longer needed the stone to see. Perhaps she was already dead. If not, her fate was evident. Her grip on the canoe seat began to slip.

Desperate thoughts filled Eva’s mind. She recognized that the stone must stay with her body so her soul wouldn’t be trapped here like the others. Maybe she could drop the stone into her mouth. As Eva began to maneuver the rock toward her lips she glanced up again. She saw the child spirit, reaching out entreatingly. It was a young boy. His eyes pierced her soul. Somehow, she could feel his pain. Bile filled her throat as flashes of the boy’s life rolled through her mind. Eva’s eyes burned with tears. She stretched out her arm and handed the stone to the child. An orb of soft light appeared and the child vanished. Eva released her other hand from the canoe seat. Her gaze followed the orb’s ascent into the sky as her body smashed into the rocks below.