“Come back to now, back to now,” Rosemary Fenwick repeated, trying to shake off the strange feeling that something was very wrong. Glancing back at the farmhouse, she saw the early morning sun casting a brilliant golden shine over the landscape, bathing the garden in soft, warm autumn light. The large white farmhouse seemed to have its own arc of light surrounding it.

She smiled at the peeling white paint that needed attention and the ivy climbing up the porch columns. The house stood like a guardian against the backdrop of the forested mountains. Rosemary could hear the faint rustling of leaves as a gentle breeze passed through the towering oak trees lining the property. Even Gypsy, sprawled lazily on the porch, seemed to melt into the quiet serenity of the scene.

She sighed and turned her attention back to the garden.

Rosemary slid off her weathered brown sandals and wiggled her feet into the soil. She closed her eyes, imagining the energy of the earth flowing through her, feeling the pulse of life beneath her toes. The heady scent of damp earth mingled with the crispness of fallen leaves. Every breath felt like a silent prayer, as though she were drawing strength from the very ground that had nurtured her family for generations. She whispered prayers of gratitude, her fingers gently caressing the leaves and stems of the plants she had grown since spring.

Releasing another wistful sigh, she squatted next to a large cabbage, twisting it until the vegetable gave way. As Rosemary pulled the cabbage from the earth, she remembered her mother’s gentle hands teaching her how to garden when she was just a child. “If you listen closely, Ro, the earth will speak to you. You have to listen,” her mother would say, guiding her small hands into the soil. “She’ll tell you what she needs.” Holly had a way of knowing just what each of her daughters resonated with. The other girls never quite understood why Rosemary always had her fingers and toes immersed in the soil.

Gardening wasn’t just a task—it was a sacred practice, a way to stay connected to the cycles of life. She hoped her mother would feel proud of the way she had kept that tradition alive.

Rosemary closed her eyes again, trying to imagine herself as one of the plants with roots shooting deep into the ground.

“Isn’t this such a melancholy time, my friends?” she said, rubbing her palm across the soil before taking a generous scoop in both hands. She held it close to her nose, inhaling deeply. “Thank you, Gaia. Your bounty is most appreciated. You are dearly loved, adored, and cherished.”

The thought crossed her mind that her mother would be pleased with her devotion—after all, it was Holly who had taught her to love the earth so deeply. Rosemary’s lips curled up at the thought.

Holding the soil out above her head, she said, “Bless this earth so that while it rests, we know that it will be ready again for divine partnership come spring at Imbolc.” She lifted the soil higher before bringing it down in front of her face.

But when she opened her eyes, her heart lurched. The soil in her hands was full of maggots.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

A wave of nausea hit her. She stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest. The sight of the maggots—writhing, pulsating—made her skin crawl. She shook her hands violently, trying to rid herself of the dirt, but the image clung to her mind. It felt like a sign, something sinister and serpentine lurking beneath the surface.

“Ugh! Ick, ick, ick!” She shivered, wiping her hands together vigorously and shaking them off. But before she could process what had just happened, she felt the ground beneath her start to tremble.

At first, the vibration was so faint that Rosemary almost thought she had imagined it. But the tremor grew stronger, tearing through the soil like an unseen force awakening from a deep slumber. The trees swayed, and the once peaceful garden seemed to pulse with chaotic energy.

“What… what’s happening?” she whispered, her voice trembling as much as the ground beneath her. She could feel the earth shifting, groaning, as though something deep within was stirring, trying to break free.

“What the hell is going on? We don’t get earthquakes,” she spat, looking toward the mountain range. “I bet that’s what they thought every time another mountain blew its top. I better get to Mom.”

The steady shaking of the ground slowed every step she took. It was as if the earth itself was holding her back. When she realized she wasn’t making any progress toward the house, she stopped and waited for the quaking to subside. She kept her stance wide, bracing herself. Eventually, the tremors slowed and then stopped completely. The air felt heavy, the silence eerie in the wake of the shaking. Rosemary rummaged through the pocket of her smock, grasping several stones and some corn silk she had gathered to make dolls before finding her phone. She shakily opened it and hit Sage’s name.

“Are you okay, sis?”

“What are you talking about? Did someone tell you about the birds? Because—”

“Birds? What? No! Shit, the earthquake! Did it mess up the store?”

“Rosemary, I don’t have time for one of your freakouts,” Sage sighed. “I’ve got enough on my plate trying to run this place.”

“Sage, listen to me,” Rosemary insisted. “This wasn’t a freakout. I saw maggots in the soil—actual maggots in my hands. And then the earthquake. Something’s not right. I can feel it. The energy… it’s all off.”

“You always feel something’s off,” Sage replied, though there was a hint of concern in her voice. “But I’ve got nothing up here but birds—lots of them.”

“Earthquake. Right. What are you smoking this time, Rosemary? We don’t have time for this. No jokes, we have to get the store ready.”

“Listen to me, Sage, something weird is going on up here. I haven’t had anything since the bagel this morning. I swear it.”

“Well, I don’t see an earthquake happening up there and not reaching here. Maybe you stayed in the sun too long? It is a weird day, though. You should have seen the massive number of crows down here earlier. Just crazy.”

“Oh my God. That’s an incredibly bad omen.”

“Don’t say that. Besides, you know I don’t believe in omens.”

“Well, they believe in you. Perhaps it’s the energies of the changing season. But damn it, that was beyond strange.”

“Well, is the earth still moving? Because I could use some earth moving in my life.”

“It wasn’t funny, Sage.”

“I know. I believe you. It’s just that I’m down here, overwhelmed. You said you’d be down to help Pen,” Sage sighed.

“I meant it. I’ll be there asap! It just felt like the right time to bless the earth. The corn dollies are mostly finished. I’m just going to check on Mom before I head down.”

“Okay, I’ll do what I can until you get here.”

“Don’t worry, sis. I’ve got your back. I should be down by one. Late lunch?”

“Deal. Love you.”

“I love you too.” Rosemary held the phone until she heard the line click. She looked around suspiciously. “Everything looks okay. But something is definitely off,” she murmured, thumping the phone against her side.