Home Again: A Short Story

The wind howled. I pressed through the stinging white vortex swirling around me. The light was just ahead. I couldn't tell the distance in that storm, but it couldn't be far if I was seeing it.

Ten minutes later, I was pounding on the door with my fist, hoping the people inside would hear me above the wail of the blizzard.

A man came to the door. His eyes widened when he saw me.

"How... What are you doing out here?" He scooped me up in his arms like the child I was and kicked the door shut with the heel of his foot. He set me down in front of the fire and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.

Before long, I was plenty warm, with a bowl of hot stew in my hands.

Wolves howled in the distance as Keith lay huddled close to the fire. Tomorrow he would journey back, which was both a good thing and bad. This search had been a disaster.

Daniel's girl was still missing. Coming back without her was worse than not coming back at all. What could he tell her mother? Saira had lost enough in Daniel's accident. Keith had made a rash promise in the moment and now he had to deal with one broken. One that involved leaving a nine-year-old girl to die in the forest, cold and alone. The thought's only accomplishment was to help his failure sear through him.

He woke before dawn. How long had he been sleeping? Not long, judging by how tired he felt. But then, he hadn't expected to sleep at all with Brielle on his mind. He must have fallen asleep praying.

Keith broke camp, checked that his fire was completely extinguished, and trudged in the direction of Saira's village. He hadn't gone far when noticed something in the snow. A disturbance irregular to forest creatures. It hadn't snowed for a few days; perhaps this was the reason. Thank you, Lord, he thought as he knelt to see what the tracks had to show him. They were the size of Brielle's, and headed northwest. Keith stood and followed the path they directed him to walk.

Not more than a mile or two from the place Keith had slept was a cabin. He should have recognized the place long before he came so close. He'd never come in the deep winter, and the snow must have disguised the area.

He pushed through the wind to reach the door and pounded hard on the wooden barrier to be heard above the sound of the wild north. Before long, the door was opened and he stumbled inside.

The man who'd let him in slammed the door firmly shut. "Keith! What are you doing out here this time of year?"

"The girl." Keith hadn't realized how cold and tired he was until he'd been engulfed by the warmth of John's cabin. "Is she here?"

"You mean Brielle? Yes, she's fine." He gestured down the hall to the bedroom. "She's still asleep."

John helped his friend out of his winter coat and hung it on the hooks near the doorway, then stoked the fire while Keith shed the rest of his gear.

"Can I get you anything?" John stood and brushed the soot off his hands. "Hungry? I just made a pot of stew last night."

"Yes, please." Keith replied. He hadn't realized how hungry he was, either.

The two men sat and talked as Keith ate. It was mid-January, and they hadn't seen each other since two summers ago. Their conversation soon turned to the girl who was the center of this visit.

"She showed up on my doorstep yesterday," John said when Keith had finished with his story. "How she survived in that cold for almost three days on her own, and without injury or illness, only God knows."

They were silent for a minute before John spoke again. "You plan on going back today?"

"Yup. Weather seems as mild as it'll get for some time." He thought of Saira, the look in her eyes and the fear in her voice when she'd told him her daughter was missing. "Her mother's worried sick about her."

"In that case, you should probably get going soon. There's another blizzard on it's way. Sooner you leave, the better."

Footsteps sounded softly in the hallway. Brielle came out in bare feet, wrapped in the blankets that John had given her the night before. She came and stood next to John, regarding Keith in a curious way.

"Do I know you?" she asked him. "I think I've met you before."

Keith smiled at her. "I was good friends with your daddy. Last I saw you, you must have been at least five, or younger."

"I remember," she said in a voice that was strong and sweet all at once. "You're the one who read to me." She shuffled across the floorboards and curled up in his lap. "Can you tell me a story now? Please?"

They left shortly thereafter. John gave them some extra food and supplies, along with goodbyes and admonishment that they travel carefully.

The snow was deep and the wind was fierce. Keith was glad for the extra supplies John had insisted they take with them. Brielle fared well for such a small girl, especially one who'd been alone in the wild in the dead of winter only the day before. She was strong, that girl. Like her mother.

Keith and Brielle arrived in the village by sundown the next day. It didn't take long for them to make their way through the marketplace to the small dwelling that was Brielle's home.

Saira appeared through the doorway while they were still a ways down the street. Brielle broke into a run. Mother and daughter embraced, after so long being apart. Keith kept walking towards them, stopping a short distance from where they stood. Saira looked to him and mouthed the words thank you, joyous tears running down her cheeks.

It was good to be home.

I ran to my mother, whose open arms enveloped me in the warmest hug I'd ever felt. I could feel her tears on my cheek as we held tight to each other, glad to be together and home again.

written by Jessy on 02.08.15 at 03:57

Chatterbox: Myrna

I walk along the dirt road, trudging back to a place I'm expected to call home. We got out of school early today, so I have enough time to take the long way. I glance quickly around me to make sure no one important is watching. Uncle doesn't want me to take the long way; he wants me home as soon as I can get there. He wouldn't let me go to school if it wasn't required that he does.

No one is there. I veer off my usual path and follow the narrow trail into the nearby forest. The trees are tall and strong, like my brother. I wish I could be that way. I tend to slip through the pieces and cracks that web the small semblance of the life I call mine.

The path turns and zigzags softly through the forest. I love the way it seems so whimsical, carefree. It goes where it pleases without a care in the world, yet it's thoughtful of the trees and the rocks and the other creations sharing its earth; it doesn't push them around or attempt to crush them, but winds its way around so as not to disturb their existence.

I walk slowly, with my eyes on the trees, studying them for their signs of life. A squirrel jumping from branch to branch; a bird in its nest, feeding its young; an inchworm crawling its way up the tree. I smile to myself and look down at my feet, glad for the animals and pondering their joyfulness.

The moment past, I look beside me. There's a lake; a pond, really, and a small one. But it's enough.

A picture. He's smiling at me, surely thinking me silly for my youthful questions, but loving me just the same.

A thought. She really was lovely.

A memory. A new one I've not remembered before.

"There she is," Jake says as we approach the lake. "She's lovely, isn't she?"

"Who is?" I ask. There's no one here but us three. 

My brother answers for him. "He means the boat, Jainie." 

I look to the lake and see a small boat tied to the wooden floor that's standing over the water. How did they get that floor to stay there, why doesn't it sink?

"Oh. Then why'd he call it a 'she'?" Boats aren't girls or boys, just boats. My child's mind doesn't understand. 

"Because she's a she," Jake says, giving me his impish grin. 

I'm not sure how to respond, so I ask another question instead. 

"Do we get to ride in her?" I figure if Jake says the boat's a she, then he can't be wrong, even if he isn't right. So I'll call the boat a she. 

"Of course we do!" Jake's voice holds a note of excitement I can feel, and I'm suddenly more energized than he. 

I begin to skip between my brother and Jake, my hands in theirs. "Who's going to drive it?" 

"Your brother and I will. You can help us if you want." 

I feel my heart skip in anticipation. "I can?"

"Sure! In fact, we're going to need someone who can make sure we don't get too close to the edge of the lake. If that happens, the boat might get stuck. Sometimes we'll get distracted and forget to watch where we're going, so you can make sure that doesn't happen by telling us if we're getting too close. Do you think you can do that for us?" 

"Yes!" My young heart is thrilled to be needed by the bigger kids, especially when they help me with so many things I can't seem to do without them. 

I have another thought. "But if she's a girl, what's her name? Every girl has a name." 

Alex laughs his strong, happy, affectionate laugh. It's made my day that I've made him smile. He does that so rarely, and I love it when he does. That laugh is my favorite thing in the world. 

"I don't believe she's got a name yet." Jake thinks for a moment. "How about Myrna. What do you think, Jainie?" 

I look at the boat for a minute before answering. "She says she likes that name. And I think it's the prettiest name ever." 

Jake smiles again with a curious face and Alex looks at me, his eyes still dancing with the laughter. 

"Myrna it is, then!" I give them my childish grin, the brightest smile I have. 

Soon we're all in the boat, they rowing and I dutifully watching the shoreline.

That was when we were happier; back before Mom left us, before Uncle started doing such horrid things to us. I remember it so vividly, though it's a memory I'd never reviewed before; one hidden so deep in the archives of my life I never had time to come to it yet, though so easily pulled out by a single glance at this small body of water. I can almost see Myrna out on this pond, the three of us singing our hearts out and rocking the boat, living in the moment, as if those two things were our only purpose and we were as glad of it as we could be.

The next time we went to the lake, Myrna had her name written wonderfully down each of her sides. Jake told me later my brother had painted it there. He never said anything that first day I saw it, my brother, but I could see the humble pride behind his eyes as I expressed my innocent pleasure in his beautiful gift.

I realize I've stopped walking. I'm still standing here, watching the lake, thinking of my brother and his friend. Our friend. I'm going to be late now, and that I can't afford. He'll hurt my brother if I'm late and he'll punish me again when he's done.

I tear myself from the lake, my reminiscence, and reluctantly follow the trail as quickly as I'm able to force myself, back to the place I'm expected to call home.

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