Framed in Bluebell Woods

Chapter One

Quid illud circuit vent circum. What goes around comes around. Inanimate objects. Do we choose them or do they choose us?  Picture this: What if these lifeless items were able to influence where they travel to, and with whom?

Ally picked up the painting. That would look lovely in our new kitchen, she thought, eyeing the details in the frame. It was a watercolor and showed a pleasant, meandering pathway leading through shaded woodland. Three dominant tree trunks randomly lined either side of the trail. The tops of the trees were not visible, but the gentle slopes surrounding the path were covered in bluebells, which flourished in the dappled light filtering through lower branches hosting soft green leaves. These details made the art very appealing. The watercolor was framed in a light-colored wood and would look perfect in their new kitchen.

Jack and Ally Brannigan were at a craft fair. It was mid-summer and they had just moved into their first home together: a fairly run down, typically English, mid-Victorian terrace with lots of bare floorboards, a real fixer-upper. Jack and his new wife just married six months ago and were out and about on that glorious summer day. They had been out on a drive through the country lanes, the car winding this way and that. The intention had been to go to one of the local towns to see if there were any markets when they had stumbled across the fair. They had decided to go to medieval fair after seeing the flags, stalls, and a glimpse of knights on horses. There was face painting, jam and cake stalls, and all the usual attractions you would expect. Ally spotted the paintings stall.

Jack approached the stall. Ally stooped down to pick up a painting. She spun around and faced the painting towards him, smile stretching from ear to ear. Jack couldn’t help but smile back at Ally, and examined the painting that caused so much excitement. The details of the painting made him feel a peculiar compulsion to stare. He really didn’t want to, but felt obliged. The painting made him uneasy. Truth be told, there was eeriness, uneasiness, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. As he stared, his eyes were pulled around the details, forced to scrutinize everything. The bluebells, path, and trees. The trees. They were definitely the thing that he felt inextricably drawn to. Why?

“Well, isn’t it delightful? We must have it!” chirped Ally as she promptly paid for it before Jack could object.

The painting of the bluebell wood was coming home with them, whether he liked it or not.

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Olivia A. Kershaw

Olivia Anna Kershaw lives in Wales and is married with two grown up children. She is a teacher and teaches nine- ten year olds in primary school. She has recently started writing and has written the "Izzy Blizzard" series of children's books, including "Izzy Blizzard and the Shoe Party" and "Izzy Blizzard and the Rainbow Pen". She also writes adult short stories and has begun to branch out into writing screenplays. She likes to write about the stranger things that could happen in life and takes inspiration from all around her, seeing weird possibilities in everyday objects and situations. She intends to carry on writing, putting the strange into the normal for as long as she can!

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