Returning Visit

[Femme]

It was as though someone had left a singular crayon out in the heat to melt. The sky was stained a thousand shades of blue, each melting darker and darker onto the horizon that lay above the surface of the lake ahead. Calm waters reflected the sway of the trees in the distance, of the clouds in the sky that drifted along their merry way off to some great palace far away. The woods just behind her echoed with the sounds of what creatures lay within the darkness, each howling to what mate it may find, or to the pack that waited in low brush for its prey to walk unknowingly into their path. Standing at the edge of the brown grass trail that led towards a crumbling cabin she felt herself at the edge of another graveyard. The winds called, whispering of what days had once long ago passed here, of the laughter and the screams that echoed in those now crumbled walls. Winds tore at shredded fabric left on a rotted windowsill as though taking revenge for all the years it had been locked out. There was nothing here anymore, nothing save the bits of wood that would stand only as a tombstone. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as she was making it out to be, but cool chestnut eyes regarded it as destruction of what once used to be a paradise.

Again the wind rose, bearing its terrible weight upon the material of the dark cloak that encircled her slender form; Whips of ebony shot outwards, trapped in winds cold hand, trembling as though terrified of its strength, but she… she remained still. Features remained clouded beneath the thick shadows that were wrapped carefully around her visage so that if anyone would happen upon her they’d not see what lay beneath. Even her hair was folded back, tucked deep within so that not even a single strand would escape to catch in the threads of golden light that the sun cast down upon this desolate place. She merely stood there for the longest of moments observing scenes that would play out only within her own mind; she could still see all who once ran through these fields and played within the lakes cool water. It was a grave now, all of it, everything she’d ever known. Only a day previous to her venture here had she happened upon a place that once held more memories then this small parcel of land ever could. It was there, where once she called home, that she witnessed the tragedy that had befallen such a peaceful place. No longer would the waves lap upon the sandy shores that gave way to rolling fields of grass laced with clover and daisies. Now there was only ash, a landscape that would have rivaled Hell should its fires ever be extinguished.

Memories were painful now.

The imprint of her small feet would hardly be noticed upon the trail that led towards the lake for a thousand other footsteps had traveled that same path a thousand times before her. She ventured onwards, down passed the crumbling cabin to the lake where still waters would remain undisturbed of the decline that was happening on the shores beyond. Her lips sealed with a dark kiss as she knelt down, merely bending knees to bring her closer to the water that she’d approached. From within the sleeves of the cloak her hands emerged, pale flesh stained with a deep crimson, bloodshed that was not her own. Into the frigid waters she allowed the lapping waves to caresses away the stain aiding only by rubbing nimble digits together. Slipping a hand free of the water she retrieved from her pocket a small box, the dark velvet material that once enshrouded it peeling away at the edges, that which was no longer covered stained with the same crimson taint as her hands had been. With gentle ease she cupped the water, raising it upwards to spill upon the lid of the box, fingers once more working to free it from the stain that captured the worn beauty. Once the stain was washed away a single finger worked at the small clasp to free what treasures lay within.

Were that anyone was near to witness it they perhaps would have seen the sparkle in her eyes as the lid of the tiny box was opened and the delicate treasures within exposed. Sunlight from above cast its warmth down onto each it turn it seemed, drawing from the tiny carvings a rainbow that filled the bottom of the small confines. Again, with a single finger she reached inwards, gently stroking each of the three objects in turn, the memory of each drawing out a smile upon her lips. For a moment she simply remained there, staring into the space of rainbows letting her mind wander. The world could pass and perhaps she’d not notice, perhaps she’d not care, but it was there, within the capture of such fragile things that such deep memories with great emotions lay, but none would see. The box, now cleansed of what soiled it was sealed once more and slipped back into her pocket where it would continue to remain safe. From one treasure to the next she moved, her left hand set aloft while fingers on her right worked at freeing the small ring from the opposite hand. With great care she set to washing it in the cool caress of the water. The gold shone beneath the lapping waves that she made with her stirrings, the image of the tiny dragon wrapped around a rose distorted, somehow elongated. Diamonds and rubies shone in their own colors, sparkling and shading the sand beneath like the gentle caress of a lover’s hand. In silence she regarded the last of the treasures she held dear to her heart before slipping it back upon her finger and hiding both hands once more within the folds of her cloak.

She ascended then, standing once more to her full height and merely gazed across the lakes surface. A shuddering breath was expelled as at last she turned and moved away from the water’s edge. There was but one stop left to make now, and her heart sank at the thought of what darkness now lay there. Hope had been lost so long ago, dark lessons leaving their stain upon a once fragile mind that was so open to ideals that were of wrong comings.

Back to the edge of the path, to the beginning of the forest she moved swiftly, the rustling of her cloak the only sound that would make it to her ears. One last thing to do…

From before her she stole from a tree a single branch whose length and girth would well support her means. It seemed almost deafening against the silence around her as the branch snapped away from the tree with a sharp –CRACK-.From within the opposite pocket of the tiny box she withdrew a bit of fabric and began to fasten it to the end of the large stick she now had in her possession. Delicate ease and the curl of dainty fingers soon had material tied perfectly, the stick then lofted onto her shoulder. Carried upon her shoulder, much like the tattered rags of a hobo’s meager possessions she moved back down the path pausing at the halfway mark between the woods and the cabin. Black earths parted as she shoved the sharp end of the stick into the ground, kicking dirt around the base to secure it into place. Not a moment more was spared, not another look back as she spun upon her heel and departed back down the path. Only one stop left to make now and she’d not dawdle.

Deep into the woods she moved, disappearing as silently as she’d come… The only clue that she’d been was the bit of crimson material left flapping in the breeze…

[Femme]

Daybreak was upon the world once again. Ribbons of golden light cut through the thickness of the trees illuminating the path before her as she strode onwards. The night had been spent in a small shelter just beyond the border of LightShadow Lake for she knew better than to approach during the hours of twilight for the creatures that lay waiting in these woods were ones that she had never fully come to understand. In all the years that she’d been walking this path it hadn’t changed; even in her absence she could see, even with eyes closed, where the openings began and where the trails that led nowhere would throw an unwelcome traveler off.

She moved onwards, shrouded still within the warmth of the cloak that had been selected for this particular journey; what better color to suit what means she came to return. Tendrils of ebony materials snagged for moments upon the branches that had grown across the path which, she could only imagine, hadn’t been traveled in some time. Her hands would stray from their hiding places, slender fingers coiling about the thieves that would threaten to tear holes in her covering. Steps were so careful, for she daren’t fall, daren’t waste a moment of the time that she had left. Her mind was set upon one last thing, upon one last memory that she knew had to be confronted. Perhaps she should have wept, should have had the tears to express what was held in her heart, what the tiny voice in her head screamed, but at some point, some distant time ago she’d cried out all that she had left within her; now it was only silence that followed each moment that passed her. There should have been laughter, should have been some humor in the very thought of it – finally, after all this time she could think before she acted.

When the woods finally gave way to a clearing she could only pause and stare. What had she expected? If he had still been here the grasses would have been up kept, the flowers would have still been in bloom, and the tiny garden that once had been built would have remained erected, tiny daisies dancing in the soft wind that almost seemed to rush out and meet her; if she’d not known that the wind wasn’t sentient she would have thought that perhaps it had recognized her. Deep chestnut eyes stared out at the clearing simply taking in what was real and using that to banish the illusions that she’d built up in her mind. Indeed grasses did sway, the flowers spun in tiny circles while butterflies milked them of their sweet nectar. Rolling hills gave way to flat land where the cabin lay still like a large marker in the distance.

Only the smallest of smiles was given, that in itself hidden beneath the shadows that the cloak cast across her face, as she gazed upon the wooden form that she’d once called home. Her heart trembled for a moment, shuddering in its own recollection of what she’d once had, what she’d once fought so hard for, but still not a tear to moisten her eyes. Again she strode forward, the deep evergreen grasses giving way, the folded blades marking a trail behind her. Blossoming flowers perfumed the air, the crisp glimmer of sunlight spinning rainbows upon the world where golden rays passed through the dew that clung to the gift of new life. She searched, only her eyes moving, for the torches that had once been set upon the trail closer to the house. It was those torches that she used to look for, the flickering light in the darkest of twilight hours that would guide her back, those very torches that would keep away the horrors that she’d once run from. She couldn’t do as he had done, cup light in the palms of his hands to guide her safely home.

The once small tree at the side of the house had now grown impossibly large, its thick branches reaching up like outstretched fingers to stroke at the soft blue hue of the sky above. This tree, the one that had often times captured her falling form was now like a pillar of strength, its roots planted firmly in the ground; it would never leave. Like dark eyes upon the planks of wood, windows stood gleaming against the sunlight that pooled through them, lighting whatever life may or may not live within the dwelling. Tiny flowerbeds looked almost overgrown, colored petals stretching out in different directions, each competing for warmth, for light, for life. And she had to, didn’t she? Reaching out she plucked from the group a single daisy. Alabaster petals shone bright upon the dark contrast of her cloak, the canary center spinning out in a thousand shades and giving way to the thick stem that once rooted it to the ground. Though a daisy never held a beautiful scent it still, and always would, remain her favorite.

She took her time as she paced slowly around the cabin, the warmth of her eyes inspecting each tiny nook and cranny, remembering each little thing as though it were only yesterday. Closing her eyes she could almost smell dinner cooking in the kitchen, the sizzle of fresh meat falling upon a pan gleaming of oil and spices, potatoes cooking in a separate pot, a salad tossed into one of the large wooden bowls. A warm sigh drifted beyond crimson tiers as she reached out again, plucking a second daisy from yet another patch. Her fingers worked delicately, weaving the fragile stems together as she continued to move.

Every corner of the Cabin held some special memory to her, each bit of the lawn would remind her of a time that had passed what seemed so long ago. How was it that time had been lost?

One daisy after another was removed from the soft soils of the earth beneath as she continued on her way, and when at last she came to the front door she paused. Chestnut eyes gazed up the thick door, stopping only when she reached the carvings writ upon it. Dark symbols were etched with a delicate hand into the wood, each carved with such perfection, each standing for something more than what one would have thought. She could vaguely remember when he had explained it to her; a spell of protection against the things that wandered in the night. It was supposed to keep them safe, and yet she had to wonder how many times those exact symbols were carved into each door as it was erected to replace the one before it that had fallen.

How long she stood there staring at the door she would never know. The sun above had soon heated the material of her cloak, the sweltering heat soon enough drawing a long breath from between crimson tiers. How she longed to knock upon the door, to see if anyone was still dwelling within, perhaps that was what kept her standing there for so long. Her head dipped, the soft folds of the hood rippling forward allowing a glimmer of sunlight to penetrate that inky darkness. Violet hues shone for the briefest moment before once again she looked back up to the door. Almost lovingly her hand lofted and stroked upon the smooth surface before her, her palm soon resting flat upon it. For mere moments she stood there, wishing it would have just opened, wishing that it would have been as things were before: for the door to merely swing open; she never used to lock it. Things were different now.

Her time was up.

Slowly she pulled her hand from the door, the second one lofting to place the tiny ring of daisies around the sleek surface of the handle. Petals glimmered in the soft morning light, the evergreen stems standing so stark in contrast against the dark grains. Once more silken lips parted to release a longing sigh as she swiveled upon her heel and turned to walk away.

If only she had the tears to cry...

[Jones]

The wooden door knob felt alien to his hand. The bed was too soft to sleep on. The kitchen had too many things in it he didn't remember how to use. Even the faucet for which he could wash his hands under looked and felt too peculiar.. Not after all those years spent on Erisil. Not after the countless days and nights he'd spent in the woods; alone. No bed. No washbowl. No oven. No civilized comforts of any kind. Just the bare earth beneath his sleeping frame, and the cold waters of the lakes and rivers he'd traveled to. I want to leave, he realized one morning, looking out the screened window, the icy-blue hues of his eyes burning as they touched upon LightShadow Lake. But this is home. Was that his only reason for staying? Was that why he woke each morning and made the journey to The Falls and continued trimming the trees, caring for the wildflowers, and shaping the groves? There had to be something more. There had to be something that could explain why he let his life pass so uneventfully in this place which held more pain in memory than pleasure in beauty..

Daily, Gavin moved about the cabin and the lands that surrounded it, restlessly. His reunion with his mother, Sam, and an old friend had given him only a brief respite from the doubts and questions that floated in his conscience. What am I doing here? Why do I care for this place? This..home? Everyone is gone. Everything is ended. Is there anyone who could return? And if this place is not mine to be in, where do I go? What is my purpose? Perhaps I've long fulfilled my purpose. Maybe, it's time to just lie down and let everything go.. But no matter how dark or terrible his thoughts made him feel, he remained. He worked, and he toiled. He created, and he maintained all that he held dear. And the restlessness he felt within his heart was burned by the sweat and blood he shed in holding back the wilderness which constantly threatened to overtake all that his father, and his uncle, had made of this place.

This present evening, Gavin was in the cabin, rearranging the bedding. The old mattress was leaned up against the wall, and the covers were spread out on the floor. Darkness was building up in the corners of the single-room place, but the sunlight spilling in over the west side of the forest was plenty enough for him to work in. The room was chaos. His leather-hide packs leaned against the backwall. Left over meat from dinner from a spit he'd made out at The Falls, had been tossed onto the kitchen counter and in the sink. And the mattress feathers were beginning to fall steadily from a gaping hole which was revealed now because of its upright position. Gavin was oblivious to it, unrolling his bedroll, and fighting to get the covers spread out enough to lay on. The fight would have continued forth if it wasn't for the presence he felt, approach.

Gavin knelt there, like a fox ready for flight from the unknown predator it had not been aware of. It was only when the stranger had come right up to the door, touched it.. and then turned around again to walk away, did Gavin move. Deft footing brought him to the door in silence. A firm hand would push the door open, and another more cautious hand would bring the dagger out from the belted sheath. And Gavin would lean out, his brown and scraggly hair falling about his icy blue eyes, which piered into and through the stranger that had his, or her, back turned to him now. His beard was thick and heavy, and reached to the point just below his chin, giving the impression he might be in his 40s. His voice would ring out across the distance that spanned between them, and it would infact, reveal that he was a much younger man.

"Ho there! Who are you? Why do you trespass onto this place? Be wary, stranger, for I've little patience for the criminal-like." He lifted the dagger a little higher so that if the stranger turned, it would be well in sight.