The Green House

Ann wanted nothing more than to petrify within the dark caves of a library with a novel in hand, a clandestine statue marking the aftermath of a girl forgotten. She preferred the company of silence, along with an enthralling story to pull her out of her mundane life and ever-racing mind; the thoughts of another to replace her own. She was a loner, too quiet for her own good, and what her therapist calls a “work in progress.” Ann did have friends though, she was just never good at keeping in touch, especially after she moved. And since the move, it had been hard to meet new people. How does one even make friends? The question crossed her mind quite often. The city library had become a bit of a refuge for her, and became the only reason for her to leave her tiny apartment. She worked from home, so the only co-worker interaction she got was:

“Hi Ann,

I hope this email finds you well.”

It does not. *scoffs*

Ann thought that by moving to the city she could finally pursue her dream of working in a museum as a curator. It wasn’t the typical big-city goal most have, but she enjoys art and the thought of passersby admiring a collection she helped put together makes her feel like maybe she can do something right. But with the pandemic hitting, museums closed and she was shit out of luck. She became even more of a hermit as the days passed, her floors becoming more cluttered and curtains becoming more dusty. When the libraries finally reopened, it felt like a sigh of relief. She had never given much thought to being alone, but she had never felt so lonely in her life. It forced her to look inward and damn was it dark in there.

On Thursday at around 6:30pm, Ann is walking home from the library and decides to take a different route. It’s June so it’s still light out, and for some reason Ann feels a peculiar impulse to walk down the neighborhood with the green house, she passes it sometimes on the bus and has always admired its overgrown garden. Something feels odd in the air and there’s a faint drizzle coming from a single cloud. June gloom maybe, she ponders. She crosses the street, nearly getting clipped by a speedy biker, “HEY watch it!” “shit- I’m sorry!” She scurries towards the sidewalk, adjusting her glasses back up her nose bridge. She ambles down the street, admiring the unique framework of each sequential house. A one-story hacienda with small cobalt tiles creeping up the front pillars, a two-story colonial with noticeably fresh, bright paint, and finally her favorite green house. A Victorian style three-story with faded rust-colored accents and dingy golden fixtures; she would have loved to see it in its prime. This otherwise massive building had been enveloped in various vines and thick vegetation, numerous weed-flowers sprout in the feathered grass; tiny porcelain figurines of gnomes, fairies, and red-capped mushrooms are arranged to look like a village at the foot of the house’s mailbox. Along the wrap-around porch sits 2 rocking chairs, and dangling from the high beams are wind-chimes of different colors and sizes, some have crystals hanging from them, others are made of bamboo. She notices towards the corner of the yard are rows of planted vegetables- cucumbers, tomatoes, okra- and that the walkway is neatly trimmed, implying that the overgrowth, Ann thought, was an intentional encasing. She wondered who lived there. Another minute gazing and Ann proceeds past the house when she spots what looks like a giant birdhouse perched at the edge of the green house’s fence. She had never noticed it before. It’s painted almost identical to the house and at the top it reads “Little Free Library.” She opens its double glass doors and gasps in curiosity at its contents; inside are an array of books, some paperback, some hardcover, all stacked against each other inside this enchanting box. She pulls a few out individually, Aesop’s Fables, The Power of Now, there’s even a chemistry textbook inside. Ann snickers, ew my least favorite thing to read. She studies each title, hoping to find one that jumps out at her when her eyes catch a blank book spine. She slides it out of the heap and reads "The Girl and Her Monster by Eve K." on its tattered, yellow-faded cover. The book isn’t more than 20 pages long and is barely bigger than an index card. Intrigued, she decides to take it with her. The box says take one, return one, so I’ll just bring another book back next time. The night was creeping in anyway, she thought.

Back home, Ann switches on her lamp and throws her bag and new book onto her study. She changes out of her clothes into pajamas and heads to the kitchen, microwaving a bowl of Shin ramen. She fills a cup of water and downs it before the microwave goes off. Carefully pinching the edges of the bowl, she brings it to her desk and slumps into her chair before turning to the first page of the book. For me, the dedication reads. She flips again and begins the story.

There once was a little girl named Tia. She was stout and a little too short for her age but she never doubted her own remarkableness. One day though, Tia found herself lost in the forest.

How did I get here? Tia wondered. Am I in a dream? She searched all around her for a familiar... anything, but there was not a recognizable scene anywhere. No matter, she thought, I’ll just head west towards the ocean, that’s where my house is. She peeked at the sun’s position and turned west. Trudging over exposed roots and vines she went. On her journey, she felt as though someone was watching her. She turned around and said, “hello? Is anyone there?” A twig snapped and Tia’s heart fluttered. “Please don’t hurt me…” she urged. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m trying to get to the same place you’re going, toots.” A creature no bigger than a Yorkshire Terrier emerged from the brush, it had disheveled chestnut fur, much like Tia’s hair, and it walked on 2 feet. “That is, if you can even get us there,” the creature said abrasively. Tia rolled her eyes slightly, “I think I can handle it. We have a forest next to our house and I’m pretty sure this is the same one.” “‘Pretty sure’ doesn’t sound too hot, but you’re all I got” the creature huffed. And on they went. Through the dark thicket, an unlikely partnership.

Tia stumbled on fallen branches and shrubs and rocks, and to her dismay, Creature was there to criticize each mistake. “C’mon, how did you not see that rock, it was right in front of you stupid!” “Maybe if you were taller you could reach that step...” “Do you even know where you’re going?” Tia had stubbed her toes, had scratches on her elbows, and bruised her cheek falling, but Creature’s malice cut deeper. “I’m trying the best I can, can you shut up!” she finally yelled. “Not a chance, sweetcheeks, but I respect your candor,” Creature replied. Tia sighed heavily and begrudgingly moved forward. She had never felt such doubt about herself before.

There was a river up ahead and Tia felt uneasy. The waters rushed forcefully, like it had just rained. “Uh, are you sure you want to go that way? It looks a little unstable,” Creature said hesitantly. “There’s no other way around,” Tia replied. She took a step onto a rock, cautiously placing her foot onto dry surface. She took another step and missed, her foot splashing into the stream. “Ugh!” She quickly withdrew her leg onto the next rock. She made it halfway through the creek when she turned around and Creature was nowhere to be found. She sighed in relief but then realized she was now all alone. Suddenly, a barn owl flew down and perched atop one of the rocks in front of her. “You can do it, Tia! Step on that rock there.” It pointed its wing to her left. Tia did as it said and was upright again. “You’re almost there!” the owl hooted. Mistake after mistake, Tia endured on. She was exhausted and almost gave up, but she was determined to make it, and the owl’s encouragement helped her carry on. Finally, the last jump. It was a big leap of faith, but Tia sprung towards the bank and landed in the dirt. “You did it! I knew you could.” The owl fluttered its wings in front of her. Tia wiped her tears and smiled whole-heartedly, thankful for its encouragement. She looked ahead and saw a clearing beyond the trees. She dusted herself off and sitting under a tree was Creature. “Nice job, toots, though the landing could have been more graceful.” Tia scoffed and extended her hand towards Creature, helping him up. All three continued on through the wood and into the light.

Ann closes the book and reflects on its context. What an interesting fable, she thinks. She flips to the back cover and at the bottom reads:

Eve K.

P.O. Box 338

Boston, MA 02101

She sits contemplating, then finally takes out a pen and paper.

Dear Miss Eve,

I have just finished reading your book, The Girl and Her Monster, and I wanted to write you a letter of my appreciation. I did have a few questions though- did Tia actually make it back to her home, or was she indeed dreaming? Does Creature and the bird represent actual people in her life?

Ann

She had never written an author before, but Ann felt compelled to do so tonight.

--

A week later, Ann arrives home to a parcel at her doorstep. A package wrapped in brown paper, bound in twine. She picks it up and unlocks her door. At her desk she unravels the bow and removes the wrapping. Inside the box lies an envelope sitting on a sea of styrofoam. She opens the envelope and reads a papyrus card.

Hello Ann,

Thank you for reading my book. I had left it in that little library years ago hoping someone would pick it up and you are the first to do so. It is my only published literature. Here are the answers to your questions:

Tia experienced something we all do in life, the unknown, failing, yet prevailing. She could have been dreaming, I suppose. I guess that’s up for you to decide.

Please look in the box for the answer to your next question.

Ann reaches in and extracts a tiny mirror, it was ornate and looked like a miniature of one you would see at an antique store. She stares at her reflection. She reaches in again and brings out a glass figurine- a girl with an owl on her shoulder and an unrecognizable animal at her hem.

You see, Creature and the bird can represent 2 things- your inner voices that can torment and uplift your spirit; they're always there, but it’s up to you to keep pushing forward. And they can also represent relationships in your life. There are people in life who will tear you down and those that will lift you up. It's ok to accept help from those who offer it, and I implore you to show empathy to those who have lost their way. In the end, we are all trying to find our place in the world. I wrote this story at a time in my life when everything was grey and I hope it has helped you in some way.

Best,

Eve

P.S. I noticed that your address is 4 blocks from my house, if you ever wish to come by for tea, you are by all means welcome. 951 Orange Rd.

Ann sits still, admiring Eve’s gifts. She grins earnestly at the author’s response. She checks her watch, 2:22pm, it's still early she thought. She grabs her phone and inputs the address, clicking on the street view. Interesting, she grins. She snags her bag and her worn copy of Pride and Prejudice and is out the door. A few blocks down she turns onto a familiar street. She walks towards the pin, stops, and spins to the left. The green house. On a rocking chair sits an elderly woman with white hair and glasses similar to hers. The woman looks up, “hello, can I help you?” “I’m Ann, I wrote to you.” “Oh! You came,” the woman smiled. “I’m Eve, come in.” Ann slides her book into the little library before stepping towards the house to meet her new friend.