There was a Girl

Three months. It’s been three months since I was taken prisoner and locked in this tower. I know who my captor is, and when his war is finished, and he has killed all the innocents that are better than he, he will come for me, and he will make me his wife, his prisoner for life. Of course, that is what I’ve been told will be my eventual fate. Three months of my life has been stolen here. My 18th birthday, come and passed. My high school graduation, only weeks away, is just a dream now. By now, I’m sure the police, and my father, and the whole town will say that I am a missing person, and maybe they will say that I am dead. Lost in a winter storm, they’ll say as they shake their heads in disbelief, she was so young, what a dreadful shame. My father…my heart aches to think of him. What will become of him now?

The only light in the dark room is a small dwindling candle on the bedside table. I sit at the edge of my bed, staring at the candle, waiting for what little light is left to extinguish itself and leave me alone in the darkness. Besides having only one candle, I’ve not been spared any other luxury. The room is lovely by any standards. The tower sits on the highest craig in a wilderness of mountains and clifftops, and in the mornings, I often take the small desk chair and sit in front of the single barred window, looking out over the deep valleys and watching the sunrise while the eagles soar along the horizon. I know I’m no longer in upstate New York. I don’t recognize this place, the rawness of it, the wildness. Somehow though, where I am matters little to me. In my heart, I know Walter will find me anywhere.

The bed is clean and comfortable with a laced edged quilt, expertly embroidered with dainty blue and purple wildflowers. My clothing is fit for a princess, rich wine and twilight blue velvet gowns for the day with matching silk nightgowns for evening. The desk, bedside table, and wardrobe are heavy and ornate, made from highly polished mahogany. Someone had taken great care to furnish and prepare this room for me.

A scuffling sound appears at the heavy chamber door, and a loud scrape of metal as the food slot slides open. Feathered human hands with sharp talons for nails push a battered metal tray through the slot, setting it to rest on the wooden ledge attached to the door . “Come and get it you little pretty,” the screeching voice cackles through the small opening. “He’ll be coming for you soon now…anytime anytime…you just wait.” The creature let out a loud shrieking laugh, then slammed the slot closed, screeching and cackling as it shuffled away. I was not afraid though. I recognized her voice who had brought the tray this night, and my heart soared with joy.

I stand up from the bed, smooth the soft velvet dress against my waist and walk tentatively…hopefully, over to the ledge where the tray awaited me. The food I ignore, but the pen and paper that had been slipped underneath the tray, I take and set on the desk. Thank you Meera. I whisper to the little creature that had risked her life to bring these precious gifts to me. Then I sit down, pull out the several handwritten pages hidden under the desk, take the fresh new sheets of paper, and with the flickering light from the last remaining embers of the little candle, I continue to write my story.

******

It was January 16, 2002, and it was my first day of school. No, not my first, first day of school, but my first day at a new school as the new girl. And the new girl was the last thing I’d wanted to be. I didn’t want to have to make friends as a senior in high school; I didn’t want to dress up for prom or wear makeup or get my first car or impress the boys or any of that. I already had friends who liked me back home, in Manhattan, and I was happy. But, deep down, I knew that my old life was over, forever.

That world of mine died the second my mom died. She died on September 11, 2001 while saving a class of elementary school students and their teacher who were on a school field trip. She was a financial executive there and had known the fastest way to exit the building. She had made sure the others escaped, but she had never come home. At first, I felt like she must have cared more about those strangers than me. Why wasn’t she thinking of coming home to me and dad? She had to know how much we needed her. Why was she thinking of everyone else? But, that was my mom. She was special. She cared about people. And she was never, ever afraid. Me on the other hand; I’m nothing like my mom.

Lunchtime on my first day of school was special for one reason. It was the first day I met Walter. As I stood in front of the lunchroom holding my tray, scanning the room, it wasn’t the sight of Walter eating his lunch that drew me to his table; rather, it was the empty seat I saw first. It was only after I sat, that I noticed Walter sitting directly in front of me. His dark eyes, huge behind his glasses, focused intently on me for a moment, but he never said a word. I would find out later that Walter didn’t wear glasses to see better. The glasses were simply a disguise to hide the precision of his true eyesight. We ate our lunch in silence, and it was only after I had finished, that I spoke.

“Hey, uh, do you want this cookie?” I held out the uneaten cookie to him as a friendship offering. His eyes focused on me again, and he slowly nodded his head as he reached out to take the cookie. He smiled tentatively at me as he took a small bite, chewing slowly. Finishing the bite, he opened his mouth to speak, but it was too late. The bell rang out shrilly in that moment, and the expectation of a response from him faded away as the rush of students bustled back to class.

The rest of the day was uneventful, but I wasn’t happy to go home when the bell rang. There just wasn’t much for me to go back home to. Since my mother had passed, my father was a shell of himself. He had always been the cheerful one in the family, ready with a joke for any situation. I had never imagined how much he had relied on my mom until she was gone. And I was invisible to him now. The only company he wanted was his newfound habit for drinking, his photo albums, and his grief. I allowed the river of students to guide me as I made my way to the bus, and climbing up to my bus seat, I sat by myself for the trip home, watching the endless blur of snow-covered mountains and forests from the foggy, cold window.

******

I watched the bus drive off, engine sputtering and tires spewing out a thousand pebbles as the driver quickly sped away. Turning, I walked down the deserted dirt road, my backpack on my shoulder, heavy with textbooks. I could see the old farmhouse and the barn in the distance, flaking paint and rotting wood. It had been remodeled in the kitchen and bathrooms at some point, but the original wood floors and faded, peeling wallpapered walls had remained. Much of the furniture, my dad had been told by the realtor, was also original to the home. There were other things the owners had left behind too. When we first moved in, in my room, I had found an old journal in the drawer by my bed. Nothing else was in the drawer, and at the time, it felt to me like someone had put it there, just for me to find.

The first page of the journal was a breathtakingly beautiful drawing of a barn owl. It’s body facing east, but its head turned to face the viewer. Its dark eyes glistened intensely, and for a moment, I had an uneasy feeling that it was watching me. Underneath the drawing, a short poem:

The winter night sings this song with a plea

Over the mountains, wild and free,

Come and follow, the night owl cries

While his magnificent wings soar ‘cross the skies

I had turned the pages, looking for anything else the writer had recorded. But the rest of the journal was empty. Its blank pages had held no answers for me.

Walking up the house's creaking front steps, I shifted my backpack to the floor of the front porch and reached in my pocket to take out my key. Wiggling the key in the lock, I could feel my senses on edge. Something was wrong.

“Dad!” Shouting his name, I burst into the house. Thick, pungent smoke was quickly filling the space. “Dad!” I screamed. No answer. Running to the kitchen, I saw a pan on the stove, steak crackling and burning, oil fizzling and popping as the white smoke poured from the pan. I grabbed the metal handle of the pan, flesh searing, and flung the pan off the burner. It clattered to the floor, steak and oil splattering. Searing pain ripped through me, electrifying every nerve in my body. My palm pulsated and burned with it, but the anger and disappointment were even more painful to face.

“Allie.” My dad’s worried voice broke through my thoughts. Allie was his nickname for me. My real name is Allana. I was furious at him for using the name Allie. That name belonged to my old life, when he, when we, were happy. I whirled on him.

“Dad, how could you! You could have burned the house down!” the shrill panic in my voice made me sound like a different person. It scared me that I didn’t even recognize my own voice anymore.

“Allie, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I remember I was making you dinner, a special dinner, to tell you I was going to be different. But, I thought I could just have a few drinks to hold me over, and all I know is next I was sick on the floor in the bathroom.” His face looked desperate. But I didn’t care. I just stared at him. His excuses disgusted me.

“I’m outta here,” I mumbled as I walked past him toward the front door.

“What?” His voice was soft with worry as he followed.

“I said…I’m outta here!” I screamed at him.

“Look, Allana, I know I’ve made mistakes. I’m sorry. I’m working on it; I’m going to get help. I found a support group…uh…a grief group, and I’m going to make all this better. I promise.”

I ignored him and grabbed my winter coat off the rack by the door, wincing as my injured hand brushed against the rough fabric. I quickly changed my sneakers out for a pair of winter boots and pulled on my gloves while Dad stood watching me, silent. I slammed open the flimsy door and stomped out towards the thick wooded mountainous terrain to the west of the house. I heard dad shouting at me from the door, “There’s a storm coming, Allana! Don’t go far, please!” He pleaded. A deep twinge of guilt twisted in my gut, but I kept on walking, and never looking back.

Sunset came early this time of year and twilight was quickly fading to darkness over the mountains. The full moon was just beginning to shine in all her glory against the night sky, and the stars were glittering like diamonds on a bed of black velvet. The temperature had dropped, and fluffy, white snowflakes drifted all around me, catching in my hair and eyelashes. The silence was deafening. I had grown up in Manhattan and longed for the sounds of the city. Why did dad bring us here? He’d wanted a new start, a fresh start. But he hadn’t even tried.

As I walked, I felt the snow begin to flurry around me, covering me like a white, heavy cloak. My boots were sinking deeper into the snow, crunching each time I took a step. The trail had disappeared and the walk was getting increasingly difficult to traverse. The sun had fully disappeared behind the horizon, and the silence gave way to the night sounds of darkness: trees rustling against the whistling wind, branches and twigs snapping from the scurry of the night animals, and the haunting calls of the whippoorwills. And as I continued my hike, I knew that I was disappearing deeper and deeper into the forest. There was a niggling doubt beginning to grow, that maybe, if I kept walking, I would never come out of that forest. Maybe, I would stay lost there forever. But I kept walking. Because something kept driving me; maybe it was anger, maybe it was grief, maybe it was loneliness or sadness or hopelessness. I didn’t know; I just kept on. Suddenly, the forest had begun to thin, and I walked out into a large circular clearing. The snow was thicker here, and the moon’s beams cast brightly on it like a spotlight waiting for the first act of a Broadway play. I waited, my feet frozen in place. The air was densely heavy with a deep magic and mystery, and as I breathed in the cold air I shivered in expectation.

Suddenly, a violent screeching pierced the silence as a flutter of wings brushed against my hair. I screamed, cowering in terror and surprise but quickly fell silent as I noticed the majestic night owl perched in the tree across the clearing, his dark eyes cast directly on me. He fluffed his feathers before flying to the center of the clearing, landing in the snow, his wings gently outstretched. My pulse raced wildly and my heart chilled with fear as I watched the owl transform into a dark human figure shrouded in a shimmering, feathered hooded cloak. His head was bowed so I could not see his face, and his hands remained outstretched slightly beside him like the owl’s wings had been. I could see that he was wearing a rich, soft leather vest and pants under the cloak, but he wore no shoes, even in the frozen snow. He stood still before me until my pulse began to quiet and my fear was replaced with curiosity.

“Who…who are you?” I whispered the words so quietly, I wasn’t even sure I had spoken. He slowly lifted his head, looking into my eyes with a slight smile. The smile I recognized.

“You….you’re the guy from school today…the one at lunch?” His glasses were gone, and his eyes were even more intense than I had remembered. His features were different too. Whereas at school, he had appeared ordinary in every sense, here, in the forest, in the snow, he was mesmerizing, glowing even. I could feel myself falling quickly under some kind of spell, some kind of vivid and magical dream.

His voice carried across the short expanse of snow, but I more felt his voice than heard it. A rich, deep voice, a melody like rushing waters.

“Yes, it’s me. I was waiting for you there, at the lunch table.” His eyes twinkled as he watched my face fill with confusion. “But as you probably guessed by now, I’m not a student.” He took a few tentative steps towards me, “I’ve been waiting for you since I first saw you. Since even before you and your dad moved here.”

I didn’t answer as he continued walking towards me. I wanted to be afraid of him, to turn and run as fast and as far as I could, but I was frozen.

And then he was there, standing just in front of me, and there was no escape. He leaned down slightly and whispered, “I can give you everything back that you lost.”

I shivered at his words and the warmth of him so close. He reached to take my hand, and I winced at the pain from the burn. I had never treated the wound before I left the house. And somehow, he knew this. He carefully pulled off the glove, bent down, scooped up a bit of snow, and placed it gently on my palm.

“You’ve been watching me?” I stared into his eyes.

“I’ve been watching over you.” He replied.

“I didn’t ask you do that; I don’t want you to do that.” I began to feel a sharp prick of anger rise within me.

“If I hadn’t been watching over you, you would be out here in this forest, alone, and with this storm, you would not survive. And there are other threats…many that you aren’t even aware.” His voice was soft and sincere, full of concern as he scanned the forest around us. I could see that his features hinted at some hidden danger.

“But…why me? And how?” I was puzzled. I knew I wasn’t anything special. I certainly wasn’t the kind of girl that all the guys were after. I didn’t style my hair, or wear pretty clothes, or wear makeup. I was just who I was. Some might say I had a natural beauty, but I certainly wasn’t the kind of girl that some fancy transforming handsome owl prince would be interested in; at least I didn’t think I was. But none… none of what was happening made sense anyway.

His laugh rang out, warm and deep, and I felt my heart quicken and my stomach flutter. “It’s not for you to worry about all that right now. All will be explained in due time. For now, come with me.”

And with those words, he slipped the feathered cloak off his shoulders, revealing majestic wings that unfolded behind him as I stared in awe. He carefully held my injured hand, turning the palm so I could see where he had placed the snow. Now, by some enchantment, only a scar remained where the red welt had been. “Do you trust me?” He asked softly.

“Um…not really.” But somehow within me, and without explanation, I did trust him. He waited patiently to see what I would decide. I tentatively held on to his hand, looked into his eyes, and nodded, “Ok, I do trust you…but, can I at least know your name?”

“Walter,” he smiled. And for a moment, I was blind, and everything was a blur. I could feel the rush, and the cold air, a sudden frigid blast against my skin, as my eyes shut tightly against my will. We were accelerating, faster and faster and higher and higher until I felt like I was without gravity, coasting on clouds. “Open your eyes, Allana!” I heard him shout with excitement. And I did.

The next moments were like nothing I had ever experienced. As he held my hand, we flew through the night sky. I felt no fear, only exhilaration as we passed over mountains and forests as far as the eye could see. “Allana, look!” He pointed to a small town to our left. It looked to me to be about fifteen or so small log cabins, all of them lit up from within with flickering candlelight and fireplaces, smoke rising collectively from each of their chimneys. He gently guided us towards the little town, descending slowly until we reached the door of one of the small cabins. “Wow.” I breathed, “Where are we?” All the cabins were in a perfect circle, with a large circular expanse of snow in the middle, just like the forest. They were each identical to one another, only about 20x20 feet in size. I looked up to the one in front of me and noticed a small carving at the top. It was the same carving as the drawing of the night owl in the journal back at home. I looked up at Walter. “You were in my house? You left that journal with the poem for me?”

He smiled a knowing smile, and then he opened the door.

“Allana.” I felt the voice before I saw who spoke it. My body seized as the voice echoed in my mind, bouncing around and around until I felt dizzy and faint. The woman standing before me was the most beautiful I had ever seen. Clothed in a magnificent dress of the same shimmering feathers and rich leather that Walter had been wearing, her hair cascaded in dark glossy waves around her shoulders. Her green eyes were as clear and bright as sparkling emeralds, and her skin as smooth as radiant as polished marble.

She was my mother.

I choked out a sob and ran to her. We held each other for a long time. All the hurt and pain and sorrow purified in that moment. I had so many things I wanted to say to her, so many things I wanted to apologize for that I hadn’t been able to do before. But somehow, I knew I didn’t have to say anything. This moment was enough, for both of us. She held me quietly until I was ready to break the embrace. I pulled back from her, standing alone, still reeling with shock. She was my mother, but she was not the same. She was transformed, like Walter, and every feature that I had known and loved was now brighter and more intense than any normal human being.

“I don’t understand any of this. Why is all this happening? Why are you here and why do you look like this? You DIED, mom!” Anger started to well deep inside. How could she still be alive and kept it from Dad and me?

“Allana…,” She turned and sat down on a gilded chair a few feet from the golden fire burning the hearth. …”there’s a lot..a lot I can’t explain to you right now and perhaps never. It’s not all up to me. But we’ve been granted a special gift this night, and we don’t have much time.”

She motioned for me to sit in the soft feather chair across from her, and I hesitantly stepped across the richly dyed rug in front of the fire and sat down. “Allana,” my mother said. “I’ve brought you here because you are in danger.” Her voice took on an urgent tone as she reached and took my hand in hers. “You are in danger because of me. I revealed my magic when I saved those children, and now I am being punished.”

Walter cut in. “There are many like us, Allana, some are good, but many are bad. Here where we live, many are looking to destroy us and the ones we care about.” He glanced at my mother with a warning glance. “We can’t tell you any more than that right now.”

I sat in silence, looking back and forth between Walter and my mother.

“So what should I do?”

“You and your father must escape. Pack up, move, change your names. Live anywhere but here.”

“But, mom, I don’t even know we came here in the first place. Why did dad choose to move here?”

Here eyes softened, “We met here. When we fell in love, even though it was forbidden by our council, I chose to leave my life here and lead the life of a full human with your father. I think he came back because he hoped…he hoped maybe he would find me here. He knew the truth about me. He knew everything. But if I go to see your father, all of us will surely die.”

I looked at her in astonishment; swarms of questions formed in my mind but before I could ask any of them, she stood and spoke with commanding urgency.

“Allana, you must go. Those who wish you harm are coming here and you must leave this very moment. Walter has been assigned your caretaker; trust him and follow him home. He will watch over you. He will never be far from where you are." She pulled me into her embrace and whispered to me “ I love you my precious daughter; I don’t know if I can ever see you again, but please know that I love you and your father with all my heart. Please love you father, help him with his grief, and live your life putting others before yourself. Don’t ever be afraid, and know how beautiful you are, inside and out.”

And then she was gone, and Walter and I were high, high above the clouds, hand in hand.

******

The moon lit up the sky at this early morning hour, and I could see my house coming up quickly in the distance as we began to descend a few hundred feet away in the cover of the forest. The storm from the night before had laid a thick blanket of powdery white snow covering the valleys and hills. Walter and I gently landed on the deep snow both standing together, not quite an embrace, but close, an unspoken bond growing between us. He reached out to touch my face, leaning down gently, a soft kiss as I closed my eyes. “Don’t worry, Allana, I will always be watching out for you, and no matter what happens, I will always come for you.” And then I was alone.

******

I woke up several hours later in my own bed. My head was swimming, and I felt confused and disoriented. Had last night really happened? It seemed a fantastical dream. I sat up and reached for the journal I knew would be beside me on the bedside table. I opened it up, and hoping for a message, I flipped through the pages until I found what I was looking for. The poem was written in fresh ink.

There was a girl and there was a boy.

Across the star filled sky,

They flew together,

Her hand like silk in his.

I traced my fingers over the gentle curves of each letter, thinking of Walter and what had been my first kiss. A knock at the door sounded, and I gently laid the journal on the table. “Come in” I called. I was ready to apologize to my dad and give him the warning I had received last night. The doorknob shifted and the door swung open gently. I waited for my dad to step in the room, but my throat suddenly seized and my blood ran cold. The figure standing at the threshold of my door was not my father.

“Why… hello my beauty…that is what your name means, does it not? Allana…beautiful. And once you are my wife, you will be even more beautiful because you will be transformed into one of my own kind.” His features were striking: a tall, powerful body; a chiseled jawline with a dazzling smile; and eyes that flashed with a fiery passion unlike anything I had ever seen. But somehow…and I couldn’t understand why, he seemed vaguely familiar.

He was dressed like Walter had been, but the leather was midnight black and the feather cloak was gleaming white. Fear began to grow in my heart that this was the danger my mother had been warning me about.

“When I saw my little brother Walter with you last night, I knew I had to have you. What he has left behind, I have come to take.” The man’s face twisted and contorted with his evil intentions, and I screamed as a dark blanket covered me and muffled my senses. I fought with all my might, but I was no match for his strength. He overpowered me easily, and then I felt the familiar sensation that I was flying before everything went black. The next thing I knew I was waking up in this prison cell where I now wait.

******

I set down my pen. I am finished. I don’t know if writing it all down has done any good, but now I feel like I am ready to face whatever is next. The candle wax has burned away now. The wick is all that’s left, sputtering gently in the drafty room, only a few minutes away from complete darkness. The sense that I was being watched grew as I was writing, and I could no longer ignore it. Walking over to the heavily draped window, I pull the velvet aside and peer out into the darkness. Pressing my hand against the cool glass, I can hear the shrieking of the wind as it lightly rattles the window. And then, I see it. A flutter in the corner of my eye, and then the shadowy outline of the night owl comes in to view, perched a top a neighboring mountain peak. His haunting call echoes across the vast mountain chasm , and his eyes glow with fire as he watches me. In that moment, my pounding heart builds to a pulsing crescendo, my nerves tingle with electricity, and every fiber of my being is drawn taunt with seismic expectation as I realized what was coming next.

He had finally come; the night owl was here. The questioned remained, however, which one was he?