Prologue

              The young woman stepped lightly through fallen leaves as she strode down a winding path past the spot where three children chased each other around and over a sprawling playground. The winter chill bit at the young woman’s cheeks and played with the ends of her scarf as she walked along. Snow sat in small piles here and there, giving the park the uneven look of not quite autumn and not winter, but somewhere in between. Her soft brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, loose strands lashing her cheeks in the wind as she followed the sidewalk’s curve.

          At the center of the park, she slowed. Three sapling oaks stood in a row alongside the path and she stopped at the second, a smile tugging at her lips as she placed a hand fondly on its trunk and read the plaque that had been placed there:

Emily Peters
1996-2006

          “She always loved plants and things,” a voice came from behind the young woman, and she turned, startled, to see a lady dressed fashionablyin a black coat and leather boots, standing not three feet away in the shadow of the last sapling in the row.

          “Oh, you surprised me!” she said, a little breathless, “I didn’t think anyone else was here.”

          The lady took a step toward her, and the young woman noticed curiously that her face seemed familiar, although the reason for this eluded her. Shadows seemed to follow as she neared, or perhaps it was just the leaves blowing in the wind.

          “Did you know Emily?” the lady asked, nodding at the plaque.

          The young woman turned again to look at the words engraved there.

          “We were childhood friends. Best friends,” she answered back, and her eyes went to the crown of the sapling, “She would have loved this�"to know that she was remembered by a tree.” A trace of a smile flitted across her face.

          “She knows,” the stranger told her, and the young woman, whose name was Amber, glanced at her sharply.

          “I guess so,” Amber said after a moment, a little doubtful.

          “I knew her sister, a little,” the lady went on, curling her fingers around a leaf of the first tree, whose colors had already turned and which hung by the barest twig to its branch.

          “Alicina used to watch us, when we were little,” Amber admitted, “I missed her too, when they…” her voice trailed off, but then she went on, stronger now, “But not as much as I missed Emily.” Her eyes fluttered to the grass.

          “They are both happy, you know,” the lady told her, after a moment of silence in which the wind danced with the trees that were the only epitaph of two young girls, gone missing long ago. No grave marked their passing, justthe plaque and the wind in the trees.

          “How do you know?” and suddenly the young woman, who had seen fifteen years pass since Emily disappeared, felt a renewed sense of the loss. She turned to this stranger, unconsciously seeking reassurance in the familiar face.

          “Their adventures were not trifling,” the lady went on, her eyes clouded as though remembering something Amber could not see, and her odd tone, as though she had insight into unknown escapades of the two missing girls, sent chills down the other girl’s spine. Who was this woman?

          “They came through alright and they’re both happy now,” the lady concluded. Turning, she faced Amber again, “They would want you to know that�"and be happy for them, too.”

          “I don’t know why you say that,” Amber said, nervously twisting her hand in the folds of her warm winter scarf, “But I loved Emily�"I love them both. Alicina was like a favorite teacher, or a friend herself, even though we were very different ages. I hope you’re right about them.”

          Turning away, she heard the lady say, “I am.”

          Amber strode away then, her mood troubled by the strange conversation. But as she neared the playground, her fingers brushed absently against the wooden bench where Alicina had once sat to watch over her, and in a rush that drained all the color from her face, Amber suddenly realized why the lady’s face had looked so familiar.

          “Alicina?” she gasped, whirling back toward the trees. The lady was farther up the path, walking away toward the other end of the park.

          “Alicina!” she cried, her voice shrill with joy and anguish. She began to run, a desperate longing choking her voice so she could not say a word more to halt the woman.

          Alicina turned. Seeing Amber running towards her, she smiled. Raising one hand in a wave that was both greeting and farewell, she shimmered in the sunlight and disappeared.

Reviews

[Tony Jordan]

i'm not really into stories but this was set up more like a poet's attempt at a story if that makes sense.
Good effort.
:)

[Sarah Nicole Nadler]

Thanks Tony! From one poet to another :)

[Coyote Poetry]

A very good opening chapter. I liked the pace of the story and the characters. I like the history shared and the story line. I wanted to read more. Thank you for sharing the amazing opening chapter.
Coyote

[Sarah Nicole Nadler]

Thank you Coyote, this is very helpful and nice of you to say

[Coyote Poetry]

Was my pleasure and you are welcome my friend.