We always whispered to each other about grandmas locked room every time we visited. It became somewhat of a rumor or tall tale.

My brother insisted that behind that green painted door, there was a secret stash of valuables and a large safe filed with the family fortune. He jokingly poked at the idea of picking the lock but never had the courage when we would stay the night.

My mother reassured me that it was probably just a spare room because when she was a kid and grandma had guests, they would go “missing” in the night only to return once in the morning. My Uncle said that’s where she would keep all of the toys that she would confiscate. Seeing as how he was always in trouble as a child, this would make the most sense to him.

My cousins all had a variety of more colorful stories, such as… Grandma being a serial killer, that the room was lined with plastic and would use the room to chop up dead bodies or… That she was a dominatrix and that was her sex dungeon used to torture men. While these stories always made me chuckle, I couldn’t help but to stifle my grin when they would be told.

You see, I knew what was really behind the door. If I were to mention this to them, there would be an uproar. Even our parents hadn’t seen this room and they grew up in this house. Not only would they be upset, they would constantly pester me about the secret of the room.

I know the real treasures that lay beyond that door… I know because one night when I was staying with grandma, I got up in the middle night to get a drink of water and as I walked down the hallway, I noticed a peculiar light. The source was coming from within that normally locked room. The door was cracked open and a light radiated out, illuminating the picture of us all on the wall.

I started to peak through the crack when a shadow was cast through through. I jumped back and continued down the hallway. The stories my family told me growing up stuck in my head and I could only presume the worst. As I walked back toward the bedroom with my water in hand, I start to pass the secretive door and made sure not to even look at it. Whatever was in there, Grandma didn’t want us to know so I didn’t want to know.

My grandma had other plans. As I am passing the door, she swings it open and stands in it’s frame. I look up at her with both hands on my glass of water. She smiles at me and asks if If like to come in. Noticing the scared look on my face, she laughs and steps aside so I can see the contents of the room.

My jaw drops. “Grandma… this is amazing!”

She reaches forward and puts a hand on the back of my shoulder to usher me in.

“I thought you of all people would like it the most.” She replies then shuts the door behind us.

Lurking in the darkness, Footsteps through the night. Be wary of intentions, But fear not a loathsome fright.

It slumbers in the day, Not one for things so bright. Consumed by ones own shadows, Within it still holds light.

When shadow meets its match, Shinning through, despite. It is mirrored back to self, Seeing black within the white.

Acknowledge self in both forms, Without judgment for what’s right. Hold no malice for this creature, That’s been hiding in plain sight.

He zooms his lens in a bit and corrects the focus. Panning over the people walking the street, he thinks to himself about how perfect this project is for him.

Todd has been studying photography at the city’s elective arts collage and he was out capturing street life for his final project.

The sunlight reflects off of his lens as he watches through the view finder.

click click

His shutter goes off and another well timed photo is captured.

Luminous shatter, Delicate tinkling shards, Tingling blood drips.

Dawn opens the door to Hamilton’s cage and useds her hand to gently stroke his talons. Hamilton was bestowed to her by her best friend’s family member. May’s great-aunt was an old, peculiar, lady but she always seemed to have the best intentions.

The parrot stepped onto her hang and she guided him to her shoulder.

“Are you hungry?” She coos as she strokes his beak.

“Nom Nom!” He chirps back.

She gently gives him fresh carrot that she set aside from cooking dinner. He’d been accustomed to receiving snacks when he heard her making food at dinnertime. Even the sound of the fridge opening would peak his interest and would become restless in his confinement.

As he chomped away at the crunchy vegetable, she rustled his neck feathers lightly and walked back to the kitchen counter. Stirring the food in her simmering pot, Hamilton chips again.

“Coques Celia” he squawks.

Dawn, puzzled, sets her spoon down and hands him another carrot. “Nom nom” she says and he repeats.

She thinks to herself about all the weird things he’s been saying lately and how her friends great-aunt must have taught him these things before she gifted him. Was he speaking a different language? She took Spanish in high school but this sounded more Latin to her.

She suddenly realizes that the pot is now at a rolling boil and checks the temperature on the stove.

“Strange.” She says. “It’s set to simmer.” She removes the pot from the burner and turns the dial down until the flame is completely off.

“Nascor ” Hamilton squawks and rustles his wings, rocking back and forth on his feet. The sharp claws digging in her shoulder as he settles.

The pot of soup begins to look foggy, almost like a fog machine had been turned on. The pot of soup now looks like Halloween decoration and Dawn is puzzled as she watches this pot slowly bubble and produce a rolling mist.

“Did you just say NASCAR?” She asks rhetorically.

As she walks him back to his cage, she ponders the absurdity that is happening in her kitchen. She guides her shoulder to his perch, then latches the door once he is perched.

Walking back to the stove, she pulls out her phone to call her best friend. She uses the spoon to stir her soup as it is still bubbling and foggy, even with no heat.

“Hey babes!” Her friend May answers after a second call rings through.

“Heeeeey” Dawn responds warily. “So, you’re not going to believe this…”

“Try me. You’ve said some crazy shit before so I’m prepared for anything.” Her friend chuckles.

“Well, no, even by my standards… I don’t know. I don’t even believe what I’m seeing…”

“Whats going on? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course, I just… my soup is weird. It looks like a cauldron, May…”

“Must be good soup!”

“May, it’s bubbling and not even on the heat! There’s like, a fog coming off of it!”

“Oh… Man, I told her not to give you that bird.”

“What does that mean?” Dawn demands, taking insult to what he friend said.

“I’ve got to call my aunt. Can I call you back?”

“Sure, but what does that even mean?!”

There is no response and Dawn looks at her phone. May hung up without telling her anything more. What would a parrot have to do with her soup acting strangely?

She uses towels that were hanging on the oven handle to pick up the pot and gently pours out soup into the sink. The bubbling and fog die down but now she stares at clumps of noddles and vegetables that seem wasted. What else was she to do? Let it keep… doing whatever it was doing?

Her phone rings, it’s May again.

“That was fast.” Dawn answers.

“I haven’t told you but my aunt is a witch.”

“And you say that I say the most ridiculous things…”

“Seriously, Dawn!” She scoffs

There is silence on both ends of the line.

“That’s why your soup was doing that. You said yourself it looked like a cauldron…”

“May, what does my soup have to do with possible witchcraft?”

There is silence again before it clicks in Dawn’s head. She peaks into the living room where Hamilton’s cage is and watches him groom himself before stopping to look in her direction.

“So you’re telling me…” She says softly.

“Yeah.” May replies.

“Come get this bird.”

Then she hangs up the phone.