Raven’s Ghost

Soft music began intertwining with Darcy’s dream. She was standing on the sandy shore of Ghost Island in the afternoon heat, a soft summer breeze sending her hair in every direction. The sun-warmed sand felt good as she wiggled her toes, burying them deeper into the warmth. Two cats chased each other back and forth across the narrow strip of sand between water and woods – one dazzling white, the other raven black. They stopped running and sat side by side on a boulder – yin and yang – staring at Darcy. She could feel their eyes upon her. Tension filled the air. Something – or someone – was watching her. Turning quickly, she peered into the woods. A dark-hooded figure retreated toward Dead Man’s Cave. She tried to call to him – sure it was a man. Her mouth opened, but no sound came forth. She started to run but felt herself sinking in the sand – like silky quicksand. As her head began to sink beneath the sand, two white paws wrapped around one wrist and two black paws around the other. They pulled her out so quickly that she flew into the air, like a cork from a bottle, landing on a large, flat boulder the size of an old Volkswagen.