Take Me With You...?

Josie pressed the lifeless lines of her grandmother’s hand, longing for one last whisper of a story. Grandmother Rose was her Rumple, the one who made limp strands in Josie's heart pump gold. Josie would rise each morning to secretly soak in Rose’s morning song to the crows. In their last moments alone together Josie gently plucked a few strands of silver hair from her grandmother’s comb and tucked them into the soft white pages of a little black book, then hungrily reread Rose’s parting letter on the inside cover.

My little love,

When you came to me, soft and crying from your mother’s weary arms, I could see it already. There, nestled in the folds of your mysterious wails, a black hole. Only days old, your heart-hole was barely the size of a pinhead, yet, I could feel it begging to be filled.

As you grew, we made tea from lavender and rose, drank it with the stories this vortex seemed to draw from me. I longed to get closer, be pulled completely in, yet no amount of moist breath could soften the briar guarding its entry. Now that I am free of flesh and can slip by your thorns unpricked... take me with you?

Forever yours,

Grandmother Rose

Josie touched the book to her chest, then fell to the floor in sobs. All went dark for what felt like forever before her father scooped her sleeping body up and tucked her into bed .

Years later, on the morning of Josie’s first day of summer after High School, she awoke from a dream as old as she could remember to a chorus of rain. Always she was carrying a large blue backpack, stepping off a train, and embarking on an adventure to one of the distant lands she’d been enamored with since childhood.

As a girl Josie would spend hours lost in the colorful pages of world books her father kept on the shelf next to the Britanicas, then ask him to show her on his globe the places she’d just vividly visited in her imagination.

As Josie studied the patterns of rain like veins traveling down her window, a murder of crows gathered on the old White Oak, cawing loudly in cadence to a song vaguely remembered. Josie’s heart began to pound like a fist on a hollow door. An itching heat rose from her belly, and as she reached to crack the window for air, in rushed a cool damp gust, followed by a flurry of feathers. The crows' ruckus outside intensified as one of their kin crashed around in Josie’s bedroom. Books avalanched from shelves. A clear glass statue of a unicorn shattered onto the floor. Then, through a small crack in the closet door, the bird vanished, and all went silent

n rushed a cool damp gust, followed by a flurry of feathers. The crows' ruckus outside intensified as one of their kin crashed around in Josie’s bedroom. Books avalanched from shelves. A clear glass statue of a unicorn shattered onto the floor. Then, through a small crack in the closet door, the bird vanished, and all went silent.

Shaking, Josie crept out of bed and crawled limp-legged to where the crow had disappeared. There, through the crack of the door, poured a silver light. Josie's hand trembled as she reached to touch where it landed, following the rays up towards a luminous garment.

A familiar giggle bubbled up and out of her chest, piercing the room with echoes of a child, ageless really, but essentially as young as a butterfly's first rush of blood through freshly birthed wings.

Josie’s limbs filled with a sudden burst of life and she rose to push the door of the closet open wider until the glowing garment bathed her in a light so tender her eyes brimmed with feeling. It was a cape, silvery white with radiance that seemed to go on and on. It smelled sweetly of Grandmother Rose’s tea stained couch, where they had often dozed in and out of dream, in between short and tall tales.

Josie fastened the cape round her shoulders then quickly began digging through the closet for signs of the crow. Beyond a pile of dirty clothes she was delighted to find a heart shaped tin full of precious stones and feathers she and Grandma Rose collected on their beloved summer adventures. And there, nestled beside it, was the little black book. Josie cradled it to her chest, when suddenly a whisper pierced her to the bone.

“Take me with you…?”

All went the deepest dark she’d ever known. Josie felt a quick rushing all around, then excruciating pain. At a rate faster than thought Josie was being pulled into the black hole of her own heart. The more she fought the currents of anguish, the worse they became. Finally, the pain was so strong her being went completely limp, and her cries were replaced by the soft steady pulsing of her heart, paired with another’s.

The rushing slowed to a halt as the cape’s light caught up with Josie to cast her shadow onto a second door now before her. Scents of lavender and rose permeated the air as Josie reached her shadow hand to the cool stone knob of the door, opening it cautiously to find a room softly illuminated.

As she stepped inside she noticed there were no corners to mark the beginning or end of a wall, not even a sign of where the walls ended and a floor began. Then, on her shoulders where the cape had been resting, she felt a soft squeeze, from hands so familiar, and so missed, that she crumpled, a fountain of grief spilling out into the warmth surrounding her. Grandmother Rose stroked her hair and back gently before Josie was able to turn to her in awe. They silently embraced for a long while, until from somewhere in the distance came a muffled whimpering. Followed by her grandmother, Josie moved towards the voice, a young girl rocking back and forth, head buried in tightly held knees. Josie stretched a hand to the girl’s shoulder, who quickly relaxed.

“You came!” Smiling at Josie and her grandmother, the girl lept towards them, wrapping her arms tightly round Josie’s waist. Then a painful memory pierced Josie’s consciousness and the girl disappeared. Grandmother Rose invited Josie to sit with her then asked gently “What did you see?”

“It was the day the twins a few doors down were ‘nice’ to me for the first time ever. They invited me to have brownies at their house. I was so excited to finally be on their good side, that when I realized the brownies were actually made of mud I was crushed. I wanted to run away, but they grabbed hold of me and attempted to force me to have a bite. I yelled and fought my way out of their grip then ran as fast as I could back towards home. The girls chased me all the way, calling me names and threatening to hit me with sticks...”

After a few quiet breaths, Grandmother Rose responded. "You were so strong, to yell and fight and run.”

Josie replied shortly “That’s not how I remember it...I was so stupid! Those girls had never been anything other than nasty to me. How could I possibly be so stupid as to think they had a sudden change of heart?...and how did the mere sight of me bring such hatred from them?”

“Do you really think it’s stupid to imagine people having a change of heart, becoming conscious of the roots of their cruelty, and making amends?”

Suddenly another memory rippled through the room. A girl she sat across from in 6th grade science was often the pit of cruelty by her classmates. Josie, who had been devastated by bullying more than ever that year, felt an uncontrollable disgust with the girl and one day started the cruel banter with “You have the grossest hands I’ve ever seen.” The others joined in and she soon felt a rush of power and strength so great it made her laugh out loud to the chorus of jabs that now surrounded them. Then the girl's swelling eyes elicited an unbearable shame. The look on her face was so heartbreakingly familiar Josie wanted to run from the room as fast and hard as she could. Instead she pulled her black hood tight around her head, and crouched over her notebook to draw a group of crows in black ink so hard the pen tore through the page.

Later that night, the girl’s image transformed in Josie’s mind. Her disgust was replaced by a warmth and love she couldn’t explain, except that it urged her to write to the girl in hopes it would heal whatever pain she’d caused. The girl soon became her closest friend and arm in arm, they weathered the messiness of middle school through their paintings and poems..

“Do you see?” Grandmother Rose reached a few fingers to Josie’s tickle spot and Josie fell back in the most gorgeous rolling of laughter she’d had in a long time. Then in the flickering of a watery eye, Josie was alone again, back in her closet, capeless, though still saturated with the warmth of her grandmother’s presence. The little black book was resting in her lap. She leafed through it to find several pages now filled with her own handwriting, and sketches of her short journey through the hole of her heart. She flipped through the remaining blank pages, when she noticed something poking out of a pocket in the back cover that she hadn't known existed. Josie reached in to find a letter, folded around a shiny black feather.

My dear Josie,

When I discovered the little black hole in your heart, something in me awakened to my own. One day, when you had just started walking, we were visiting a bookstore. I followed your curious hands to a kiosk of journals in various colors and sizes. I had never been fond of black. In fact, you might even say I was afraid of it. I carried my own colored pens so I wouldn’t ever have to write in black ink. But in that moment, your hand in mine, this small ebony notebook made my heart pound with wonder. That afternoon, when you’d slumbered limp in my arms during storytime on the old blue couch. I opened the notebook and had my first journey. When I came to, you were bright eyed and giggling at me as if you knew, as if you’d been there with me all along. Thank you my love, from the fullest depths of my darkest corners of heart. I only wish it hadn’t taken me so long to learn that sometimes, that which we’re most afraid of, is merely a portal to more riches than we can imagine. Shall we…?

With you always,

Grandmother Rose

Josie carefully opened the heart-shaped tin of treasures her grandmother and she had collected and placed the letter and feather inside. As soon as she closed it, a soft knock sounded on her bedroom door. She opened it to find her brother holding a letter addressed to her from Crowspeak Publishing.

“Wo, what the heck happened to your room?” Her brother exclaimed, noticing the broken glass, books and laundry strewn across the floor. Josie grabbed the envelope from his hand then quickly shut the door in his bewildered face.

It had been months since her High School creative writing teacher practically forced her to submit a story to a competition with a first place prize of $20,000 and a three month Eurail pass...

“Congratulations...” her grandmother whispered.