Chapter Four

            The first light graced my kingdom early in the morning, bringing light to my forgotten souls. I slowly sauntered through my land, my dancer’s toes daintily touching the spongy earth, rustling the fallen leaves, painted by autumn’s hand.

            My fingertips danced along the tops of gravestones as I recited names, birth dates, and death dates by heart without a glance, allowing myself brief words adoration to my companions.

            The last remaining leaves upon the trees showered down upon my head as the gentle wind caused my black lace dress to twitch. My blood red heels hung limply in my pale hand, and the dirt felt spongy and damp with dew beneath my bare feet.

My long, wavy, black hair was blown from my face by a sudden gust of wind and on it I smelled the ocean that hung below the cliff beyond the trees.

The wind battered bare trees twigs against each other; the waves of the ocean could be heard crashing against the cliff from beyond my realm of trees. The little birds sat on the bare tree twigs, singing their songs to each other. The sounds were music to my ears and they embraced me as a warm cloak. I pirouetted in their midst, scattering autumn-kissed leaves.

A smile played upon my lips as I recalled childhood memories of dance class, much longer ago than my appearance portrayed.

I continued along, my feet sifted near silently through the fallen leaves, rose bushes and vines, withered by the coming cold. At the edge of my realm, I slowed, peering from my shadows in the trees out to the sun and the ocean, glinting like shattered glass in the light.

The rocky cliff overhung the vast expanse of water, glinting brilliantly like a million diamonds. The water waved gently reflecting the sun’s light and warmth back to the bright, open sky.

I peered around in my silent forest, and finally stepped cautiously into the sun. The dusty ground was dry beneath my toes, and the dirt stuck to my dew-damp feet. The ground was warmed ever so slightly by the sun. I tiptoed to the edge, and sat silently, dangling my long, lean legs over the side.

I looked down at the long vertically linear line of the solid rock sixty feet to the ocean below. The sun tingled my pale skin with warmth.

It was rare I was privileged enough to enjoy the sun and its radiating warmth and calm. I was a creature of the night, and by day, a creature of the shadows. Master had warned me: play neither by day, nor in light, relish your shadows; for whoever sees your face, your eyes in particular, and seeks your adoration, they are the next soul you must collect for me.

And that is the reason I was granted my ancient kingdom. It was so old, the souls were forgotten, and thus no one visited them, leaving me in my solitude, deprived of the loving companionship of a fellow human.  

I was not a human, and not necessarily a daemon, but more of a mixture. I was the Queen of the Lost Souls.

A bird fluttered in the bright blue sky, singing his song to no one. I wished I could fly, just like him. I could fly high up in the sky, into the heavens and stars above and leaves my obligations behind.

But my Master specified clearly I am an earthy creature; the skies and everything about them are to be avoided. In fact, the next time he contacted me, he was sure to be cross that I was sitting in the sun’s rays.

The wind soothed my ears and rustled my hair gently. I lay back, allowing the breeze to caress my bare, tissue paper skin, and push my hair back from my face.

I listened to the wind, the whisperings of my forgotten souls, the slight waves of the ocean, the rattling of empty branches.

I closed my eyes in peace.

And opened them in a startled moment; I listened intently for that noise again.

I hoped I had not just heard it. I begged my souls to be playing a mere trick on my mind. No, I didn’t make mistakes.

It happened again: The slight crunch of fallen leaves, a quiet shuffling through them.

My breath halted, having no effect on me whatsoever.

I hopped gracefully form the ground, briefly brushing the dust off my dress, and clutching my heels in my hand, gripping them so tightly my knuckles turned white.

From behind a giant, old oak tree, I peered around, and walking casually through my cemetery, my realm, were two young men.

They began to talk, their voices drifting nonchalantly in the empty wood.

I stared at the two. They were intruders of my realm, they were violating my peace; they were breaking my intolerable isolation.  

Caught in a deer in the headlights of a car, I as overwhelmed with fear, and the instinct to run so I would not endanger them, and the urge and need to talk to them and have human contact.

I watched them from behind the tree, listening to my lost souls scream angrily at the young men. They could not hear the screams of the lost, but it was as clear as the men soft voices to me.

I quickly and gracefully skipped silently along the outskirts of the trees, making sure to stay out of sight. Behind my coffin house I stopped, and peered out from behind it.

The first man had dark brown, almost black hair, which was nicely cut, but left in a shaggy mess. I couldn’t see the colour of his eyes, but they glinted intriguingly. He was wearing a suit, and holding a single rose. He was tall with broad shoulders, and a strong jaw line.

The second man was a little less formally dressed, but still looked like he had attempted. His sandy blond hair was a little longer, covering his ears, and pushed to one side out of his eyes. His clear blue eyes could be seen from where I was, and he stood even taller than the first man, but had about the same build and width in shoulders. His skin was a little more tan than the first man’s, but not too dark.

I watched them separate, reading the grave stones.

“Find it yet?” the first called to his friend.

“No, but we will. Don’t worry.” The blond replied.

I wanted to help them, to ask them who they were looking for, and point them in the right direction. Master had told me I must take any soul that sets sights upon my face; more particularly makes eye contact. I wished I had sunglasses.

“I don’t think we’re in the right place, all these dates are in the 1800’s, early 1900’s at the latest.” The blond called.

“No. It has to be here.” The brunette yelled, sounding frustrated and on the verge of tears.

I quickly ran my fingers through my long, silky, black hair, and threw the curls to one side of my head, parting it on the side, and hanging most of it over my eyes. I hung my head low, shadowing my big, black eyes and long lashes.

Still clutching my shoes nervously, I slowly emerged from the shadows.

I regretted it instantly, as I briefly glanced up to see the blond staring at me. I was careful not to make eye contact, and slowly approached.

It had been so long since I had had human contact.

“Beg my pardon, sir,” I said, bowing slightly to him, “but I could not help hearing that you are searching for a grave stone in particular?”

The brunette had run over to join his friend, and I could feel his eyes on me, searching for my eyes.

“Yeah, we are; Abigail Aldurn .” The brunette said promptly.

I was silent for a moment. The name seemed familiar. And then it hit me, and I was as still as a statue. The men looked at me.

“Excuse me, do you know where it is?”

I nodded slowly. “Behind that little building, there is a little wooden cross. That’s hers.”

The brunette hurried behind my house, and I slowly followed, evenly paced by the blond.

The blond looked suspiciously at me. “You just happened to know that?”

“Know what?” I asked innocently.

“That her grave was hidden behind there?”

I regretted helping. “I’ve noticed it a few times.”

“Are you up here often?”

I tried to stay calm. “I visit my great grandmother’s grave, and it’s just too beautiful up here to resist exploring.”

“So you explore barefoot?” his voice sounded critical.

I just nodded, careful to hide my eyes.

“How do you know this is her grave? It’s not marked.” The brunette asked.

I knelt beside him and pulled the vines off the debilitating cross. On it, worn almost illegible by the weather, was the name Abigail Aldurn.

“How did you know her?” I asked.

“How did you?” the brunette demanded gently, placing the rose and trying to push my hair away to look at my eyes.

I pulled away. “I didn’t. But you notice little graves like this that stand out from the others.”

He sighed. “I was her brother. Well, I am her brother. But she died sixteen years ago. It was nineteen years since I’d seen her.”

I shifted uncomfortably as my memory started to return. I wanted to beg him to stop, but I didn’t.

“Who are you?” the brunette asked.

I tried to think, but merely replied, “No one important.”

“Well, I appreciate your help.”

He stood, leaving the blood red rose at the base of the cross. He leaned down slowly and kissed the top of my head, “Thank you.”

“We better get going, Keegan.” He said to the blond, and they slowly walked away.

I looked after them, staring at their backs, and finally ran my fingers through my hair, pushing it back, and straightening it back to its regular style. I stared after them, until Keegan turned to look back at me and I quickly averted my eyes.

Once they had disappeared down the mountain, away from the realm of my forest, and away from my lost souls, I picked up the rose, and caressed its soft petals.

I hugged the rose to my chest and, down upon my knees, I keeled over as my stomach knotted, and felt my salty tears run down my cheeks.

My heart ached to have them back, to cure my loneliness, but it also rejoiced in the fact that Miss Abigail Aldurn was remembered by her brother; my brother. My brother remembered me, and had come to leave a rose upon the cross I personally had carved for myself; for who I was.

 

Author's Note

Still in progress.