Hazel Post Chapter Three (Patreon)

The front gate was stuck most of the time. Hazel couldn’t ever remember it being like that before but in recent months, it required more and more effort to push through.  The winding branches locked together in a steely embrace, keeping Hazel out. Even after a simple walk down the alleyway, collecting water from the fountain, she would have to cut her way back through upon return.  Hazel hated it. It felt as if her house was turning against her.  She would have to take more time to give it some extra attention. Life had just been uncharacteristically busy as of late.

“Mother?” she called out, pushing and pulling on the gate. “The gate is closed again.”

There was a blast and a slight hiss as the wood around the gated bars recoiled. Hazel saw the burning green embers of her family’s magic singe the very ends of the sticks.  She gasped as she stumbled back, one hand to her mouth, the other reaching out as if to touch the gate.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hearing their dying wails. “I wish you would stop this. You know how she is.”

The branches didn’t answer. And really, why would they.

Coming through the gate, Hazel went in search of her mother. The day was cooling but Lucinda kept the property burning bright.  Small pyres had been erected across the garden and back field. Lucinda said the smoke would keep the evil spirits away. From the time Hazel was little, her mother had warned her and Malcolm of the fox spirits that lived at the edge of the woods. It was said they would come for them one day, stealing their innocence. Hazel had done her due diligence to keep them away but when Lucinda had returned, she said that the woods were littered with their burrows.  

The screams that pierced the air that night still echoed in Hazel’s ears.

“Mother?” she called out again. “Are you out here?”

“In the garden.” Lucinda’s voice never raised. She always spoke as if she were right by Hazel’s ear. 

Rounding the corner, she spotted her mother in the basil patch where she was planting hemlock between the established plots. Their leaves were far larger than the herbs and would overtake everything within the moon cycle.

“Did our other hemlock patch die?” Hazel asked curiously.

“Of course not. You simply don’t have enough of it. That’s all.” Lucinda rose from where she was kneeling, brushing the dirt from her skirts.  “Where were you? You rushed from here in quite the tizzy.”

A line formed between Hazel’s brow. The star field was still swirling in her mind as she watched an individual that she didn’t know walk into the darkness.  She couldn’t describe it. The overwhelming feeling that she was needed. She just had to get to them. Set her eyes upon theirs and make sure they were okay.

“I went to see a friend,” she explained. It felt odd on her lips. Friend wasn’t quite the word for who she had sought out. 

“A friend?” Lucinda’s arched brows shot up elegantly. “I thought you said you’ve been alone through these years, my dear. I do hope that you are not associating with that Next child again.”

“No, mother,” Hazel said quickly. “Of course not.” Milo Next had been her abuser for years. She just hadn’t seen it until now.  “This was… well, I don’t really know who they are.  I just know that I’m supposed to be near them. Like our lives are entwined.”

The two of them went towards the back of the garden where a pile of bones still burned. Without hesitation, Hazel knelt down in front of it, taking a small knife and cutting her palm. Her blood sizzled over the various skulls.

“Your lives are entwined and yet you have never met them?” Lucinda asked.

“I understand how it sounds but I had a vision.”

Lucina placed a few small femurs from her pocket onto the pyre. “You do not have visions, my daughter. It is not within your scope of powers.”

Hazel deflated a little. “I– I know that. But, I don’t know how else to describe it. They were in trouble. Or what I perceived as trouble. I just knew I needed to go to them. Everything in me screamed to be by their side and hold their hand.”

“Hold their hand?” Lucinda laughed. “Child, are you sure this was not some silly romantic dream?”

Reaching her bloody hand into the fire, Hazel let the flames lick her open wound. She hissed as the heat swirled around her, sinking into her veins.  Her skin bubbled and peeled, dripping down to plaster over the smallest skull.  When she pulled it back, she breathed across her wounded flesh with a gasp of pain.  Almost instantly, her skin began to grow back.

“I suppose it could have been a dream,” she conceded after a long moment.

Lucinda reached forward, brushing the hair from Hazel’s eyes. Her fingers were sharp. They had rarely offered the kind of comfort Hazel dreamed a mothers would.  “You always had a lot of those.”

This was different, however. This was… Hazel couldn’t describe it. The warmth she felt. The feeling of soft hands and lazy mornings. The way they looked back at her, imploring her to please just look back at them with the same gaze.

“Mother,” she began softly. “Is it possible to know someone without actually knowing them?”

Hazel didn’t want to look up. She could feel Lucinda’s gaze upon her and was certain it was a look full of shameless judgment.  It was the same one she had received most of her life when she said something out of line.  But Lucinda was not one to speak to a bowed head. She hated when Hazel hid from her own stupidity. Lucinda had always taught her children to take their punishment with their head held high.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze. Lucinda stared back at her. Pale face framed by wisps of grey and black streaked hair. Her eyes were darker than Hazel remembered from childhood. Full of power and wisdom that she had spent death collecting.

“Hazel.” It was a rare moment when her mother actually used her given name. “I implore you to simply be happy, my daughter. Be happy with the things you have. You have done this to yourself more times than I can count. Looking for fantasy will only cause you heartache.”

Hazel felt tears prick the corners of her eyes.  How many times had Hazel gone off in search of that next best thing. Looked for someone or something to fill the ache that had been carved into her chest. The emptiness.  It had only gotten worse when Lucinda had died.  But Hazel had an opportunity. A second chance at a life she thought she had lost. 

Why was she so intent on throwing it away?

“Oh, mother,” she flung herself at Lucinda, feeling her brittle arms wrap around her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.

Lucinda petted her hair and held her close. “It’s alright,” she hushed her.  “I told you. You are just lost, my darling. But I will help find you. A stranger is not going to solve your emptiness.”

Hazel nodded. “But you will.”

Tipping Hazel’s chin upwards, Lucinda smiled down at her daughter. “Yes,” she said. “I will.”