the strange woman

the strange woman

 

The woman first appeared on a Tuesday, just as the fog rolled in thick enough to

 swallow the lighthouse in its milky grasp. Sarah, tending the lonely beacon nestled

 on the craggy cliff edge, watched the figure emerge from the swirling mist, an

 unsettling silhouette against the churning sea.

She was impossibly pale, her white dress seemingly untouched by the damp sea

 air. Her hair, long and black as seaweed, framed a face devoid of expression. The

 woman approached with an unnatural stillness, her bare feet leaving no prints on

 the windswept path.

Fear prickled Sarah's skin. The island had always been eerily quiet, inhabited only

 by gulls and the restless ocean. This stranger felt impossibly wrong, an alien

 element in the familiar isolation.

"Lost, are you?" Sarah ventured, her voice hoarse from disuse.

The woman tilted her head, her eyes locked on Sarah with an intensity that left the

 lighthouse keeper breathless. In those dark irises, there flickered a spark of

 recognition, not human, but ancient and knowing.

"Not lost," the woman's voice was a dry whisper, like wind through dead leaves.

 "Seeking."

"Seeking what?" Sarah asked, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Instead of an answer, the woman extended a hand, long and slender, with nails

 tipped in an unnatural black. A single crow feather lay nestled in her palm,

 seemingly pulsing with an inner light.

"Take it," the woman murmured, her voice filled with a strange urgency. "It will guide

 you."

Sarah hesitated, a shiver crawling down her spine. Something about the feather,

 about the woman, screamed danger. Yet, an inexplicable curiosity, a morbid tug

 towards the unknown, urged her forward.

She reached out, her fingers tentatively brushing the woman's. The touch was cold,

 lifeless, like touching marble. As she grasped the feather, it pulsed once, sending a

 jolt of icy energy through her arm.

The woman smiled, a chilling curve of her lips, and then, with a rustle of fabric, she

 vanished as suddenly as she appeared, swallowed whole by the encroaching fog.

Sarah stared at the empty path, the feather heavy in her hand. It radiated a faint

 warmth, pulsing with a rhythm that mimicked her own pounding heart. Fear warred

 with curiosity, but the pull of the feather was undeniable.

Driven by an unseen force, Sarah tucked the feather into her pocket and made her

 way around the lighthouse, following an invisible path only she could perceive.

 The fog seemed to thin before her, revealing a hidden passage carved into the cliff

 face. It was dark, damp, and filled with the scent of mildew and something deeper,

 something primal.

She descended, the feather's warmth growing with each step. The passage twisted

 and turned, deeper and deeper into the heart of the island. Finally, she emerged

 into a cavern, lit by an eerie bioluminescent glow emanating from strange fungi

 clinging to the walls.

In the center stood a monolith, black and polished, pulsing with the same rhythm

 as the feather in her pocket. As she drew closer, she saw etchings carved into the

 stone, depicting scenes of sacrifice and forgotten rituals. The feather hummed

 louder, urging her forward.

Against her better judgment, Sarah placed the feather in a crevice on the monolith.

 The room pulsed with an intense light, the temperature plummeting around her.

 The ground trembled, and then, from the shadows, something shifted.

A figure emerged from the darkness, tall and skeletal, its eyes glowing with the

 same eerie light as the fungi. It wore the white dress and the same chilling smile as

 the strange woman.

"Welcome, chosen one," it rasped, its voice echoing through the cavern. "You have

 answered the call."

But Sarah wasn't chosen. She was trapped, lured by an evil older than the island

 itself. As the entity advanced, its skeletal fingers outstretched, Sarah finally

 understood. The feather wasn't a guide; it was a leash.

Terror overwhelmed her. She fumbled for the feather, ripping it from the monolith.

 The cavern plunged into darkness, the entity screeching in rage. In the sudden

 silence, Sarah realized the feather's warmth had vanished, replaced by a chilling

 cold.

Panic spurred her forward. She stumbled through the darkness, the entity's screams

 echoing behind her. The passage seemed endless, but she ran, adrenaline pushing

 her legs forward.

Finally, she burst back onto the cliff face, the lighthouse beacon cutting through

 the fog like a beacon of hope. She scrambled inside, slamming the heavy door shut

 just as a skeletal hand grasped at the handle.

She locked everything, her body trembling. The night passed in a blur of terrified

 vigils, praying the entity wouldn't breach the door. At dawn, the fog had cleared,

 revealing the island bathed in the warm light of the rising sun.

The fear didn't fade. The