The Rivening

PART 1 - FIRST ENCOUNTERS - Meeting the Neighbors

Connie walked to the edge of the pond waiting to feel the vibration come into her hands. As it grew stronger, she allowed her arms to rise until she felt the powerful pull emanating from the far side. 

When the sensation grew too strong, she pushed her hands down to her thighs, took several slow breaths, and stilled herself by staring at the mallards paddling around in the water.

"It's peaceful back here."

Connie started at the low, melodic voice. She turned.

A sturdy, athletic-looking young woman stood on the path leading back to the main trail.

Even taller than Connie, around the same age, late 20's, she was dressed in loose, dove grey pants and a brown fleecy tunic with a patch of blue on either arm. Her chin-length hair was dyed a deep iridescent emerald green. And she wore a bright yellow scarf around her neck.

Connie hadn't heard her come up the path and was uneasy about being watched. But the woman had a soft, impish smile and a solid, friendly air. Connie recognized her as one of the people who lived in the house next to hers. The one with the overgrown front yard on the corner of her short, dead-end street.

"Yes, it is peaceful." Connie finally said to fill the empty air, then blurted out. "You're dressed like the mallards."

The woman laughed.

Connie stuttered, "Oh god, I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I meant it as a compliment."

The woman laughed again and lifted up one of her feet, displaying her orange runners, "But you're exactly right. You have smart eyes. They don't have mallards where I'm from. And they inspired me. You're our new neighbour. I wanted to say hello. I'm Milo."

"Hi, I'm Connie."

The young woman kept smiling, "Nice to meet you, Connie. I won't interrupt your quiet any longer. But now we can say 'hi' to each other." And she walked away.

Connie watched her go. That felt peculiar. Though not unpleasant. What an odd duck, Connie thought and then laughed to herself at the apt analogy. New neighbourhood, new faces. Hm, at least that face seemed to be a friendly one.

Certainly a better reaction than she received from the man who lived with Milo. He had pointedly turned his back to her when she tried to introduce herself to him shortly after she moved in.

Turning back to the pond, the mallards still meandered about. But her feeling of solitude was gone after the encounter with the green-haired neighbour.

Morning walks in Toronto's Taylor Creek wooded ravine had become a daily ritual for Connie. A few days ago, she followed a low-gliding heron down one of the lightly trod paths off the main trail. It brought her to the hidden pond.

Standing at the edge of the water and watching nature go about her business gave her solace. Earlier, she'd seen a deer drifting through the woods on the far side. On the first visit, she'd felt the tremor in her hands, but only recently allowed the feeling to unleash itself a little more, stirring an old memory. She was uncertain what to do about it.

Connie hiked out of the ravine. The trail came out at a moderately busy street that ran perpendicular to her dead-end street on the other side. Crossing over, she walked past green-haired Milo's house on the corner and paused in front of her own house, considering her new neighborhood of small, post-WWII bungalows in east Toronto. 

She felt her usual conflicting emotions of relief and regret. Relief, that she'd managed to buy a house after everything that happened. Regret that this is where she ended up, a street of sad-looking little houses in an unfamiliar corner of Toronto. Everyone said she'd lucked out to find a place she could afford. She wasn't so sure, landing in this dreary spot where she knew no one.