The Last Leaves of Autumn (Part One)

‘If you must go into that terrible forest, do not forget it be Samhain, child.’
‘Samhain?’ Siobhan repeated, puzzled, ‘You mean Halloween? Oh, Granny, this is May, Halloween isn’t until October.’
‘Halloween, Halloween,’ the old lady swept a hand around her face contemptuously, ‘a silly name for greedy American children. Samhain comes with the winter and cares not about the name of months! Mark me words, the Sidhe will be out tonight, searching for those of flesh to return with them to the otherworld.’
You’re talking nonsense, Granny,’ Siobhan snapped, turning to grab her camera bag, ‘The She is out to get me? Come on!’
Granny rose to her feet, yet still the old woman only came up to Siobhan’s shoulder. Pointing a gnarled finger at her thoroughly modern granddaughter, the one she’d come to live in Australia with as she saw out her last years, the old woman thundered a reply from deep within her chest.
‘The Sidhe you silly girl! The Faerie Folk!’ she sat again, her frail body shaking with rage and fear, ‘Do you know nothing of your heritage?’
‘I’m going to be late, Granny,’ Siobhan sighed, ‘We’ll talk about it later, you can educate me then.’
Siobhan’s Grandmother watched her walk out the door, her heart pounding painfully. Slowly she rose and lit a candle with shaking hands. Placing the candle in a window facing the forest, she offered up a silent prayer of protection.

As Siobhan had hoped, the light was fantastic, dancing along the gold and red leaves of the canopy as the sun slowly lowered into the west. Bronzed foliage carpeted the forest floor in stark contrast to the evergreen ferns that lined the path, flourishing beneath the thick black and grey trunks surrounding her.
It seemed like no time at all before the sky above had become a star studded blanket of deep blue. Siobhan packed up her equipment quickly, pleased with her afternoons work. Some, if not most, of her shots would look fantastic in her autumn collection.
Slinging the bag over her shoulder, Siobhan thought back to the exchange she’d had with her elderly grandmother before setting out with regret. The old lady was superstitious to the point of paranoia, clinging to the old ways tenaciously.
Well into her nineties, the old lady did not have much time left in this world, and she’d chosen to spend her last precious years with the grandchild she’d never had a chance to be with before.
Feeling guilty as hell for snapping so impatiently, Siobhan decided to go home and celebrate the Celtic rites of the New Year with as much enthusiasm as she could. What would it hurt her to pretend to believe in the Faerie Folk to make an old woman happy?
Treading back down the well worn path, papery leaves crumbling beneath her boots, Siobhan glimpsed a soft glowing light in the forest off to her right. Coming to a halt, Siobhan watched as the light drew nearer. Her first thought had been, fire, but the light was all wrong. Somehow it had form and purpose.
Her bag slipped to the ground as Siobhan stood frozen with growing fear. She wanted to run, her mind was screaming at her to flee, yet she remained there, transfixed, as the source of the light stepped onto the path in front of her.
Stoop shouldered with a heavily lined face, the female figure smiled at her. A smile that did not reach her burning blue eyes.
‘Siobhan,’ the apparition whispered, ‘Come.’
‘Who are you?’ the question came out as a terrified squeak, even as Siobhan’s feet carried her toward the woman, ‘What do you want from me?’
‘I am Ceridwen. I am the Crone.’
‘I don’t understand! What do you want?’
‘You must learn who I am for yourself. Your grandmother called me to protect you. Now we must hurry, the Sidhe come.’
Looking around, Siobhan now saw hazy outlines of light weaving toward them through the trees. Some were close and she could see the hunger in their eyes. Somehow, Ceridwen’s presence was keeping them back, and the Crone led Siobhan safely back out of the dark woods.
From the forests edge, Siobhan could see the lit candle in her living room forest, her grandmother’s silhouette hovering behind it.
The phantom figure turned to Siobhan, ‘You are safe now, but heed my words, Siobhan of the Tuatha De Danann; learn the old ways from your grandmother. Embrace how you are, for when the last leaves of autumn fall come next year she will be gone and the power she holds will be transferred to you. The Sidhe know she has come and they know why. You shall not be safe until you learn who you truly are.’
Opening her mouth to question the woman’s words, Siobhan stepped back in dismay as the figure vanished before her eyes.

© Alison Pearce 2008

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Tags:

winter, fantasy, spirit, fiction, halloween, walks, folklore, samhain and alifiction