Fragile Plate

The cargo truck's storage door unlocked and began its ascent, metal marching upward to the roof like some miniature panzer. The sound echoing off the new house had a stinging feel to it, almost like nails on a chalkboard she thought. Packing was difficult, lamenting each object and the memory that corresponded with it as they were placed neatly wrapped in bubble wrap and packaged in what felt like brown coffins, wishing begrudgingly that she too could be bubble wrapped and placed away at least this day. It was overcast and fall began to take hold of the land. The unloading would prove to be most difficult as now all fantasized hope of returning to that place was waning. Small doses of hope, praying the tire failing just as they were leaving or some miracle malfunction to resend this tide of despair, were washed away. If the home is where the heart was, then to Jenny McConnell, this was a day she imagined her chest empty, unsure of what she’s feeling was even real. Suddenly as she stood facing the truck, a small noise behind her lit her senses, the sound of a ball bouncing on pavement rolling down to her feet. She turned around to see her dog Frank standing tall with affirmation, bright-eyed wanting her to throw it. For her It was the much-needed levity she needed at that moment, turning away on the rows & columns of stacked boxes. She cracks a slight smile and at that moment a sliver of sunshine began to shine down from the heavens, radiating her soft chilled cheeks. She lowered her body to pick up the ball and then she heard her name. “Jen! Her face turned towards the opened garage door. You can play with Frank later, start stacking them in here, quicker we get this done the better”. Her outstretched hand grabbed the ball as she began to rise and looked at Frank in defeat before cocking it back and throwing it halfheartedly. She said tiredly “Okay Mom” while taking in one last glance of Frank chasing and jostling the ball. Her mom retreated back into the house to do something. At that moment a cloud began to eclipse the rod of light that had appeared. She mustered herself saying in her head, her mother’s words to try and motivate herself, all the while the feeling of being pushed by some invisible force she could not understand. Though it made sense to get this task done quickly, she did not have dollars or cents for sense for right now. She was reacting in some sort of default mode. She turned back to the truck and gazed over the inventory, her eyes peering at the names on each box. “KITCHENWARE” “STUDY” “GAMES” “FRAGILE, PLATE”. “Begins with you” she murmured. Picking up the box fast & hearing the contents almost sound like they were shrieking. She took a deep breath before she turned around and began to pace to the house. Frank had already returned and was sitting as she had picked up the box, now standing and walking by her side as he always did. You could almost say the entire year was a fragile plate, which seemed cracked and bare. Still fresh those wounds inflicted no pottery master or mason could fix. This walk she has taken from the back of the truck, up the driveway to the garage is a walk that started many moons ago, when someone she truly loved with all her being walked out her life one fateful day, only they never were able to walk back. The pangs of life & puberty gave chase to devour what innocence she had left. All she could do is run, run into the deepest parts of her mind. The place she can no longer run to with is familiarity and charm is the formerly 215 Lindsey St Miami Florida, the place she cannot run from is 317 Signal Hill, now home. In a strange new place called Statesville, North Carolina. The house was under construction for a little over a year. The inside smelt of cedar & fresh paint that hugged the air. Silhouettes formed on the walls from walking past the bare windows still undraped. Ms. McConnell stood poised at the entrance of the living room. Looking out towards the empty house. And in that time Lydia McConnell knew so well the strife that came with toeing the line for a better life. Being a single parent and working the 9 to 5 was never easy, but she persevered. Now for the first time in their lives they were not living somewhere renting a place, this place was theirs. Even with her confident demeanor on display, her position in the room reflected something playing inside her mind. A carousel of memories passed from the other place & the voyage to get here. It made being in the present ever so bittersweet, she too was feeling some of the things Jenny felt, an outsider looking into a new world. She couldn’t let those reservoirs break for an instant, at least not right now. Perhaps later on with a glass of Chardonnay to christen the night. They had work to do. Luckily her brother John would be along soon to help them. It was silent as the grave, with the exception of the creeks found here and there on each step taken on the wooden floor. Jenna was outside quickly shifting through the refuge of boxes bringing them up the driveway to the backdoor entrance placing them nearby near the door facing the wall. The more boxes she brought the more a confession began to be slowly heard in her head. As Freddie Mercury once said, “I want to break free”. Frank was sitting down eyeing her completely as she moved back and forth from the U-Haul to the back door. The winds outside began to pick up and the leaves levied themselves across the yard scraping the ground ever so slightly on the pavement of the driveway, the Trees catching the wind and their leaves dancing. On her way back to the U-Haul Jenny began to feel that all too familiar feeling. A need that began to nag inside and demand to manifest. She was adventurous after all. The best part about this place if there was anything remotely nice to be said about it, was it offered a sort of adventure that new places do. She made a deal with herself that as soon as Uncle John got there she would take off with Frank and see just what kind of place she moved into. It was a bit of a rush, after all, venturing out to unknown territory. She nonchalantly glanced towards the limb of a tree, only to walk a step and pause as if in some sort of trance. The thicket of limbs made her vision blurry momentarily, she took a moment to adjust to these sculptures. She had glanced back forward seconds ago only to snap back in the direction of the dead tree. Her focus rekindled there peering through all passions into her soul was a Barn Owl watching her intensely. Her body was raptured at that moment, completely captivated by the fierce orbs spying on her. Its head looked as if something was carved into a tree that silhouetted it and meticulously painted. What she felt was something she alone couldn’t explain. Horror & beauty, ecstasy & grief intertwined like angels crying. A toxic elixir coursed through her veins, she was paralyzed. Frank looked towards her turning his head to the side slightly, trying to comprehend this sudden change in behavior. His ears perked as his senses tried for him to make out the answer. His dumpling ears began to twitch from an almost silent whisper coming from the right of her. He stood up and focused on the knoll but could see nothing, the whispers began to get volume, in an instant he rushed over to her side and leaped in front of her. He began to growl and this was the antidote, in that moment she broke eyes with her captor. Frankie began to bark violently without end, he sensed a predator or something more. His master was in danger though she knew it not. Without Warning the Owls wings spread forth and a great wind flung towards them, the gale nicking the branches overhead and swatting a column of leaves towards Frankie and Jenny. She covered her face as twigs, limbs and dirt exploded from their places asunder. As she uncovered her face, the driveway was showered with lifeless things, above her, the view was cleared & the view was the day. Above them perched a Great owl appeared. Its wings stretched forth covering the horizon, its left-wing tip was blood red and its talons were soaked bloody. The creature peered at Jenny once more as she summoned the courage to say “Oh my God” at that moment the winged master took to flight. Soaring above the likesome giant sky manta ray. Noise could not penetrate her mind, that land began dead silent, even Frankie’s barks were muffled. All she could do was be in awe of this moment the nature that was fleeing from her. She began to run down the driveway faster than any dash or Christmas morning before, with all she had she would follow this winged creature even if the shoes on her feet wore into nothing. Frank whimpering summoned up the courage as well to give chase. As Jenny reached the street, loud tire screeches could be heard to her right. She momentarily lost sight of the creature and was completely caught off guard as to what the noise could be. A big blue truck shocks jolted forward and back and inside Uncle John said “Jesus Christ!”. She caught herself and waved, “Hello Uncle John,” she said breathing fast. She raced past across the street to catch up with the pace of the bird. At that moment Frank was crossing the street barking as he ran to catch up to her. All he could say in a state of shock was a half-hearted calm “Hay…whew….her and that dog is at it again