Deidre

Deidre stood, bleeding, in the doorway of the inn. The other patrons of the inn stared in shock at the red of her hair, so brilliant in color and catching to the eye that it seemed to flow from her like the blood on her face and shoulders. Her green eyes and pale, delicate, bruised figure to make her seem a slight angel fallen to earth. She seemed like a gardenia or jasmine flower, so fragile and beautiful, for whom the slightest touch of human hands means a slow withering death of bruised petals.

With all eyes pinned on her, Deidre silently approached the innkeeper's desk. Handing the man several gold coins, she whispered, "May I please have a room, Sir?"

Staring, only noticing her words after examining the bruises and scrapes on her face, "Do you need some help, Lady?"

"No, just a room," she said, glaring either at him or something just past him.

Chilled by the frost coated trill of her voice, he nods and guides her to a room on the second floor. Deidre watched every detail as they meandered through the corridors and up the stairs. She jumped at every shadow and cringed at every door. The hardwood floors appeared so cold that she was grateful, even for the wet discomfort of her once burdensome shoes. The hollow clicking of her heels, however, created a deep, eerie echo.

The inn keeper opened the door of her room releasing a bombardment of creeping, angled shadows. "Please, Sir . . . Could you light my lamp before I enter? It is so frightfully dark in there."

"Yes, Miss." He walked into her room, lit the lamp, and turned the covers back on her bed. "You may come in, Miss. It is safe."

Slowly, Deidre stepped in glancing around each corner. "Thank you," she said. "And your name is?"

"Malachy, Miss." The moment Malachy shut the door, she slid beneath the velveteen comforter and was asleep.

Deidre awoke, sometime late the next afternoon, to find a warm fleece robe and several new dresses on her bureau. Upon finding the bathroom, she removed her clothing. Chilled by the tile floor, she turned on the warmest water to fill the basin before stepping in. Soothed by the warm bat, she finally examined her many bruises and scrapes feeling quite lucky that the situation had not been much worse.

Dressed in one of her newly found gowns, Deidre made her way to the dining room. There Malachy was seated, waiting for her. He motioned for her to sit where a warm cup of tea and sweet rolls awaited her. "How are you this morning, Miss?"

"Much better now. Malachy is your name, correct?"

"Yes, Malachy. I'm glad to hear that you are not so distraught as last night's arrival made you out to be," he delivered a soft yet polite smile. "Your name wouldn't happen to be Deidre, would it? And your mother, Morrigan?"

Dazzled and confused, "H-how . . ."

"I thought you looked familiar when you came in last night. I was not certain as to who you were, and stayed up most of the night trying to remember. I realized that you looked nearly identical to a woman that I once knew. You, however, appeared much younger. I looked through my old pictures and letters, and came across a picture of your mother holding you. I knew you mother for many years. We were friends in childhood. When we moved apart, we wrote letters quite frequently. We kept in touch until about ten years ago. How is he doing these days?"

"She died . . . Last night," Deidre sighed as a tear trickled down her soft pale cheek. She gazed into Malachy's soft, blue eyes. The inn keeper appeared to be in his early fifties. His hair was dark and saturated with varying shade of grey; as were his thick beard and moustache. "Our carriage was overturned into the lake. My mother and the horses were drowned. The driver apparently killed, and his murderer apparently spooked the horses as well. I saw a man disappear into the woods. He seemed a shadow, dressed in black. I ran as fast as I could, but was soon attacked from behind. He stole nothing but a trinket from me. A ring that my mother had given me many years ago. It was an emerald set in gold. She said that it was to match my eyes. It belonged to my grandmother, Meghan, and her mother, Deidre, before that."

"My lady, that is quite a story. Is there anything I might do to comfort you."

"Not much can be done now, sir, but I would appreciate it greatly if you would escort me to the market. I would like to purchase several new dresses and some shoes."

Eventually, the two made their way to the market where Deidre bought dresses of gossamer and silk, satin and chiffon, velvet and lace. All were black r green. On the way back to the inn, Malachy and Deidre stopped at a small cafe for dinner.

The next morning, Deidre woke before the sun had fully risen. She froze as she saw a small shadow slip across the floor accompanied by the sound of foot steps. A door opened and the shadow slipped out. She chased the shadow out into the hallway. Losing it in the many corridors, she looked in both directions to see a man in black running away. She slammed the door to her room and illuminated the one small lamp. Searching through her belongings, she discovered that her mother's diary was missing from her hand bag. She ran to the inn keeper's desk. There, Malachy stood red eyed and exhausted.

"Malachy! Someone was in my room! I saw a shadow! I heard footsteps but couldn't see anything! Then I saw him! The man in black! He was running down the hall!"

"Is anything missing?" "Yes, my mother's diary is gone. It was in my handbag. He must have gone through the carriage already, and not found what he was looking for. Perhaps this is what he wanted, but why?

"Your father, Padrig, is it true that he disappeared about ten years ago?"

"Yes. He just vanished one day. He went into town and never came home."

"Do you think that this could be him?"

"I don't think so . . . Mother and I searched for him, after several years, however, we assumed that he must be dead."

"Let's go take a look at that carriage. Perhaps there may be some clue as to what this man is after. We already know that it is not money."

The two boarded a carriage, and traveled down towards the lake. Looking out at the edge of the forest, Deidre spotted the shadow like man scurrying for the cover of the thick wood. Silently, she pointed Malachy's attention in that direction. "Almost like a ghost," he whispered.

Deidre simply stared off into the woods as they approached the far side of the lake. When the carriage tracks were visible on the bank, she again pointed, but made no sound. Malachy brought the horses to a halt and walked down to the spot of the frightful incident. The terror was still fresh in Deidre's mind. A tear trickled down her pale white cheeks as Malachy gently guided her to the shore.

Malachy dove into the water and did not come up for a very long time. Deidre was frightened that he would not reappear when his grey hair finally broke the surface. "Here is her jewelry and her handbag," Malachy said. "It does not appear that this man in black has visited the carriage as of yet." He dove back into the water. This time he returned with a ring. "Do you recognize this? I found it on the seat beneath the driver. It was caught in the fabric."

"Why yes, it belonged to my father. I only remember it from a portrait that my mother painted. We would spend hours together just staring at the picture after my father disappeared.

"If the assailant is your father, he will probably be back for this."

Deidre shivered at that comment. Someone that she had believed dead for so long had possibly come to take away everything she had. Malachy wrapped his arms around her as she stared bewildered at the edge of the wood. He turned the horses around, and the two headed back towards the inn without a word.

A man, dressed in black from head to toe, watched from the shadows as the carriage slipped away on the winding trail.

Malachy ordered Deidre to not leave the inn for several days, promising to provide her with anything for which she might ask. He moved her belongings into the room next to his own, and assured himself that her windows and doors were securely bolted. That night after dinner, Malachy urged Deidre to confine herself to the safety of her bedroom. That night, Malachy left the inn on foot and disappeared into the forest.

When Deidre awoke the next morning, Malachy again waited for her in the dining room. "Malachy," she sighed. "Though I greatly appreciate your hospitality, I would like to go home."

"My dear, It is not yet safe for you to leave. I have purchased several books for you to read. It may help to pass the hours. I do know how long and lonely a day may seem when one is locked up in here." Seeing the tired expression on Deidre's face, he said, "I promise it will not be much longer now. I have hired a search party."

"Thank you, Malachy." Deidre drank the tea and ate the sweet rolls Malachy had ordered for her. The two chatted solemnly during the meal and for several more hours after that. As soon as Deidre went to her room, Malachy left for the woods.

Deidre read all day long and fell asleep in the late afternoon. She ate neither lunch nor dinner. Before she was up, Malachy knocked on her door. Deidre opened the door for him slowly assuring herself that it was safe.

"It is safe for you to go home now," Malachy said. "The search party that I summoned found the man in the woods very near to this place. I am sorry, I could not find all of your belongings though we did search him. Here is his ring, and yes, he was your father. The police took him away."

"Oh thank you!" Deidre hugged him. "How can I ever repay your kindness, dearest sir. Oh Malachy, thank you!"

"There is no need to repay me. I have hired a driver to take you home tomorrow at noon. It is dark now, and you should rest. It will be a long journey tomorrow."

"Thank you! Thank you!" Deidre shut the door with a smile, and fell back to the warmth of her bed, sleeping soundly for the first time since her arrival.

Deidre hungrily ravaged the tea and sweet rolls given to her for breakfast. She pranced excitedly through the inn and parted sadly with Malachy that noon. She stepped into the carriage, her luggage loaded on behind her, and began the long journey home. She watched the inn as it disappeared into the distance.

*************************************

Many years later, Deidre married a young man from her home town. As the two were making their way towards their honeymoon destination, Deidre found the road on which they traveled to be quite familiar. As the carriage passed a lake, she realized they were traveling through the town nearest Malachy's inn. "Driver," she shouted.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Where is the old inn? Can you take me there?"

"What inn, Ma'am?"

"I believe it is right down this road just a short way. I cannot remember exactly."

"There's no inn here, Ma'am. Never was. Prob'ly never will be. These woods are haunted y'know."

"Thank you," Deidre stared along the edge of the wood. She almost expected to see a man dressed in black standing somewhere. Soon, they came to a clearing. A simple meadow with a tree in the center. "Stop here! Stop!"

The driver brought the horses to a halt. Deidre ran to the center of the meadow and looked, amazed at the tree. She circled it several times before touching it. Running her hands over the bark, she felt a slight groove. She tore at the spot, removing the bark piece by piece. There was an opening containing a small cedar box.

Grabbing at the box quickly, anxiously, she was almost terrified of what she might find.

"Deidre," her husband called. He was half way to her, standing just inside the edge of the clearing. "Honey, are you all right?"

"Yes," she sighed running back to him. "I'm fine." She tucked the cedar box into her hand bag and walked slowly towards him. She hugged her arms around her. "I'm fine."

When they climbed back into the carriage, Deidre discretely opened the box. Inside was her ring, her mother's journal, and a small locket. She opened the locket to see a very old portrait of a man and woman, both very familiar. Engraved on the gold was, "To Deidre, love Grandma and Grandpa. Meghan and Malachy."

"These woods are haunted," she whispered to herself as a faint glimmer of blue flashed through the old inn keeper's eyes.

-Midnighte