Chapter 5
1514words
I woke around 6 AM. Whether from the unfamiliar surroundings or general anxiety, I hadn't slept well. Opening the window, I saw the village wrapped in morning mist—distant mountains like ink paintings, nearby trees like smoke sculptures—hauntingly beautiful and eerily quiet.
Recalling my parents' warnings, I decided to use the good weather to explore the village alone. Understanding my surroundings seemed like the logical first step.
I followed the cobblestone path toward the village center, passing rows of low-rise houses typical of 19th-century Irish immigrant settlements. Though well-maintained, not a single person was visible, nor any cooking smoke from chimneys—strange for a rural community where people typically rise early.
As I walked, I spotted a familiar structure in the distance—the Church of Our Lady.
What I saw stopped me cold.
The once-majestic red-brick church from my childhood memories now stood in ruins. Large sections of the outer walls had crumbled, exposing mottled concrete underneath. Many stained-glass windows were cracked or completely boarded up. The roof's cross tilted dangerously, as if about to topple any moment.
I stood before the church, stunned, when I caught a faint sound from within.
Listening carefully, I could make out what sounded like someone murmuring prayers—the voice faint and indistinct, carrying a strange, otherworldly quality on the morning breeze. Through a crack in the door, I glimpsed flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows.
Curiosity pulled me forward to investigate, but just as I took a step— "Beautiful morning, isn't it?" A sweet, bell-like voice called from behind.
I turned and was instantly transfixed by the vision before me.
The golden dawn light spilled around her like a halo. It was Anna, the beautiful girl from last night, but in this light, she looked even more ethereal. Her golden hair danced in the gentle breeze, her sapphire eyes sparkled, and her entire presence radiated an otherworldly beauty.
She wore a simple white long-sleeved blouse and light blue skirt with brown leather shoes—modest yet elegant. Most striking was her skin, which in the morning light appeared almost translucent, like the finest alabaster.
"Good morning, Anna," I said, trying to sound casual despite my racing heart. "I didn't expect anyone else to be out walking so early."
"I often walk here," Anna said, glancing toward the church with a gentle smile. "This abandoned church has such a peaceful, sacred quality. Sitting here quietly centers me." Her voice was soft and soothing, like a gentle spring breeze.
I noticed how naturally she said "abandoned," as if it were an undisputed fact.
"Abandoned?" I asked, confused. "But I just heard someone praying inside and saw candlelight..."
Anna blinked, then laughed softly. "Probably just the wind. Old buildings make all sorts of noises. As for the light—maybe just morning sun reflecting through the broken windows?"
Her explanation sounded reasonable, making me doubt my own observations. Maybe I was being paranoid.
"You're an early bird too," Anna said, changing the subject. "Jack mentioned you're attending university in Chicago?"
"Yes, University of Chicago, studying literature," I replied. "What about you? Jack mentioned you're here to volunteer?"
"I was studying education in Boston," she said, a hint of nostalgia flashing in her eyes. "Just graduated this year. I love the tranquility here, so I came back to do some community service."
A question nagged at me: if she grew up here too, why didn't I remember her from childhood? We seemed about the same age.
Had she moved here after we left?
Or was she younger than me—just a toddler when I was five—so our paths never crossed?
The question seemed too direct, so I kept it to myself.
"Education is such a meaningful field," I said sincerely. "What kind of volunteer work are you doing here?"
"Mostly tutoring local children and organizing cultural activities," Anna's eyes brightened as she spoke. "I've always believed education can transform lives. Every child deserves a fair chance to learn and grow."
Her expression was so earnest and passionate that I felt my attraction deepen. A beautiful, compassionate woman with noble ideals—she seemed absolutely perfect.
"Would you like to walk together?" Anna offered. "I could help you get reacquainted with the village after your long absence."
"I'd love that—I definitely need a guide." We strolled side by side along the cobblestone path, the morning breeze gentle around us, birds singing, wildflowers blooming—a scene of perfect tranquility.
"Do you remember much about your childhood here?" Anna asked. "Some things," I answered honestly, "but many details are fuzzy. I was young when we left, and it happened so suddenly..."
"Why did you leave so suddenly?"
Her question caught me off-guard. I could hardly say we fled because of curses and supernatural phenomena—she'd think I was insane.
"My parents wanted better job opportunities and schools," I offered, choosing the safer explanation.
"I understand. Many families make that choice for their children," Anna nodded sympathetically. "But what brings you back now? Nostalgia?"
"Partly... and partly to reconnect with my roots."
We began discussing our college experiences. To my delight, Anna wasn't just beautiful and kind—she was incredibly well-read and articulate. Her knowledge of literature, history, and art was impressive. When we discussed Shakespeare and Dickens, her insights were both original and profound.
"Have you read 'Tess of the d'Urbervilles'?" she asked.
"Of course—Hardy's masterpiece," I replied enthusiastically, thrilled to find someone who shared my literary interests. "Tess is one of my favorite characters in all literature."
"I adore her too," Anna said, her eyes darkening with emotion. "A pure, kind soul driven to tragedy by social prejudice and cruel fate. Sometimes I think true evil doesn't come from individual malice but from corrupt social structures that crush the innocent."
Her analysis was profound, but something in her tone suggested personal experience rather than academic interest.
Just as our conversation deepened, we heard voices calling: "Anna! Michael! Where are you guys?" We turned to see Jack, Paddy, and Sean approaching, each carrying a basket.
"We're heading to the east woods for berries," Jack called out. "They're especially sweet this year. Want to join?"
"Berry picking sounds fun," Anna said, turning to me. "Would you like to come, Michael?"
"Absolutely," I agreed quickly, eager for any chance to spend more time with Anna.
"Awesome!" Sean exclaimed. "Anna's the best berry-finder ever. With her along, we'll come back loaded!" "You're exaggerating," Anna said with a shy smile, her cheeks flushing slightly. The gesture was so endearing it made my heart skip.
The five of us headed toward the eastern forest, chatting and laughing as we walked. Jack and the others were incredibly friendly, sharing amusing village stories that helped me feel like part of the group.
Anna maintained her gentle smile throughout, occasionally adding a perfect comment or observation. I couldn't keep my eyes off her.
Once in the forest, we spread out to hunt for berries. Though I'd visited these woods as a child, they seemed even more lush now. Towering oaks and maples created a dense canopy, while the air smelled of fresh earth and wildflowers.
"Michael, look at all these berries!" Anna called excitedly.
I hurried over to find her kneeling beside a low bush, delicately picking purple berries. Her movements were graceful, almost artistic.
"Wow, there really are tons," I said, kneeling beside her to help.
That's when I noticed her hands.
God, I'd never seen such perfect hands.
They were white and flawless as a newborn's skin—not a single blemish, scar, or even visible pore. Her fingers were long and elegant, with pink, translucent nails. They looked like masterpieces carved from the finest ivory.
More disturbing was how they seemed to glow in the dappled sunlight. Their whiteness was beyond natural—as if they weren't the hands of a living person at all.
"Something wrong?" Anna caught me staring.
"Nothing. I just think your hands are beautiful," I said awkwardly, looking away. "Your skin is flawless."
"Thank you," Anna smiled sweetly. "I've always been diligent about skincare."
Wait... I suddenly realized something. When she visited last night, had she been wearing gloves?
I tried to remember, but couldn't recall seeing her hands at all...
And no matter how diligent with skincare, no recent college graduate could have hands that perfect—especially someone doing volunteer work in a rural community. How could anyone maintain such unblemished skin?
"Michael? What are you thinking?" Anna asked with concern. "Oh, nothing—just wondering how we'll prepare these berries," I lied. But my doubts were multiplying. Despite my attraction to her beauty and intelligence, my rational mind couldn't ignore these impossible details.
I needed to observe this seemingly perfect woman more carefully for other anomalies.
Honestly, though, I hoped it was just paranoia. If Anna truly was as innocent and kind as she seemed, meeting her might be the one good thing to come from this strange homecoming.
After all, love has always been more about emotion than reason, right?
