Eloise Inside

Eloise hadn’t thought to track the days she’d been trapped in the woods. She didn’t realize for quite some time she’d been captured at all. It wasn’t until her memories started coming back that the pieces fell into place.

This wasn’t her home…

And yet, she couldn’t leave.

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The sun slowly lit the small bedroom and Eloise woke, startled. Her head was throbbing and there was splitting pain behind her eyes. She gingerly touched her face and then the back of her head. There was no sign of a bump or bruising. Nothing seemed out of place other than a small pinprick hole in her left forearm.

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To this day it’s still there, just itchy from time to time.

Her first few days were quiet, peaceful. She’d wake with the sun and fumble around the kitchen to make breakfast, the cupboards always full. She’d get ready for the day and tend to the garden. Then she’d sit and read, or sew, or paint, and then get ready for bed. It would have been idyllic had this been voluntary.

The cabin was cozy but fair sized. There was a small kitchen but large enough for an island, a living room with a single couch and rocking chair, plenty of books that covered practically every surface, a bedroom and an art studio and one bathroom. There were crystals scattered here and there, she felt like she’d known their names at some point but couldn’t seem to remember. Looking through the hall closet one night had uncovered a box of records and a record player which was promptly moved to the living room.

Outside the cabin was two gardens, one with flowers and one with vegetables and fruit, a sitting area, and a large cobblestone wall, at least 13 feet high, encircling the yard. No trees were inside the walls, only small plants and shrubs. Somehow the wall wasn’t what jogged her memory that something may not have been quite right. She’d been trimming the roses when it happened.

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Bright yellow roses were blooming wonderfully in the side garden. They were growing so well, in fact, that they began to over shadow the small collection of garden gnomes in the flower bed. Eloise decided it was time for a trim.

She’d forgotten her gardening gloves for the first time but just got to trimming, letting her mind wander to the unfinished paintings she was working on inside. She thought she’d been running out of blue paint but she’d found more that morning. The day before she was sure she’d checked the entire studio but she found that new bottle first thing. Strange…she should have noticed it; it was in plain view - ouch!

The soft skin of her wrist was snagged on a thorn. She quickly pulled her arm away causing the skin to break and a small prick of blood to appear. Suddenly she noticed the lack of noise in the garden.

No birds. No insects. Not even any wind.

Then her head ached as bad as her first morning there and her eyes grew too sensitive to the light outside.

Crashing inside and onto the couch, she got flashes of the life she’d previously lived. Skyscrapers, busy trains, a coffee shop on the corner. Someone with deep green eyes looking into hers. And then, Eloise passed out.

She woke several hours later. The sun was setting and the cabin was filling with the deep gold, to red, to purple light she’d grown accustomed to seeing at night. Closing the back door, she went to the kitchen to wash up.

The blood had dried and the scratch looked as though it was almost closed, not a deep enough mark to require a bandage. She cleaned it regardless and then made dinner. Tonight, she was longing for bed, hoping to dream of the things she’d seen that afternoon.

---

That night was the first time she saw the barn owl.

The only sign of life around her other than the plants. There was nothing here…

Apart from that owl.

At first, she didn’t believe it to be real. Chalked it up to being a side effect from her headache that day. But night after night, in a tree outside the cobblestone wall by her window a large barn owl sat. Almost as if to say, sleep, you’re safe with me watching you.

Its initially comforting presence had soon turned into an uncomfortable feeling filled with unspoken questions. Why am I alone? Where am I? Who brought me here?

A few days later, she started looking for a way out.

Since then, she’d combed over every seam in every wall looking for a passage. She walked the grounds outside the cabin so many times grass no longer grew where her footsteps fell.

She’d traced her fingers over every surface so much that they were calloused. There was no way out of here.

Eloise knew that she had to keep moving forward, to stay sane. She now spent her days combing through the books looking for any kind of clue as to where she was or how she got there. She tried everything to jog her memory but never got more than the same flashes and those green eyes.

So, she wrote. Journal entry after journal entry. The few memories she had were examined at every angle, every possible circumstance. She painted everything she saw. Soon she had stacks of paintings of skyscrapers, coffee cups…eyes.

She wracked her brain trying to remember the face but there were only eyes.

The mark on her forearm itched.

She started seeing the barn owl during the day.

So, she started talking to it. She told it everything; how she felt, what she was thinking, anything to keep herself from going crazy. But she was afraid she was beyond that point. She felt too calm.

Calm about being alone in a house with her favorite hobbies. Calm about always having just the kinds of food she wanted on hand. Calm about not being able to get over the wall.

“I’m worried I’ve given up. I mean, I’ve tried everything. It all feels so useless.”

The bird never responded, but this helped.

“What if this is a dream or purgatory? Maybe I’ve been here my whole life and the flashes aren’t my memories.”

As soon as she’d said it, she felt a pang inside her chest. She knew they were her memories. It simply hurt too much that she didn’t have them all. She looked up at the bird.

It had cocked its head to the side. She quickly stood up from the ground. That was new.

“You believe me, right? Somehow…you believe me?”

The bird looked at her, something, somehow, changing in its eyes.

Eloise smiled. Then she heard it.

A small mechanical whirl and a click. The barn owl’s eyes returned to normal and it flew off. Same time as every day.

But for Eloise time stood still…

“It’s not real.”

Her voice cracked and she slumped to the ground.

It’s not real…