Word Count: 2144
III
The bowl of soup was warm in Calida's hands as she carried it to her grandma's room. Thea's giggles could be heard from the other room, where she and their mother resided, gossiping.
"He has such hypnotic eyes, doesn't he, love?"
Thea sighed. "Oh yes. He's simply dashing."
Shutting the door to her grandma's room, Calida placed the bowl on the bedside table. Her grandma, Salvia, sat up in bed, her frail body covering in blankets. Her face was pale and thin, but a look of amusement crossed her face.
"Oh, to be young and in love." Salvia smiled, then coughed into her fist. Calida rubbed her bony back gently.
"I don't know if it is love, grandma. Maybe mere fascination. You know how Thea is. They've only known each other for for five days."
Laughing lightly, Salvia took both Calida's hands in her own. They were skinny and frail, and the skin was thin and loose. Calida feared that if she put any pressure on her grandma's fingers, they would crumble.
"And what of you, dear? Have you found yourself a young man?" The look in Salvia's eyes were hopeful, but she found the absurd thought of someone finding her attractive humoring, and Calida snorted.
"Don't you know, grandma? Everyone is scared of me."
Salvia raised an eyebrow, a trick she still mastered in her latter years. "Why is it you do not sound at all doleful?"
Shrugging, Calida removed her hands from her grandma's and replaced it with the bowl of soup. "I've come to terms with it long ago."
"I want to die, Calida." She gapped at her grandma, fumbling for words, but Salvia continued, "I am old, and I do not want to spend years stuck in this bed. But I will not die until you've found someone! So unless you find yourself a man, you won't be getting rid of me anytime soon." With that, Salvia picked up the spoon and sipped the warm soup.
"Grandma! I don't wish to get rid of you!"
Salvia tisked, but did not respond. She simply sipped her soup, eyes staring deeply. Calida often wondered what went on in her grandma's head: it was filled with the most absurd yet magical stories that had drawn Calida into story writing when she was younger.
"Sit, Lida." Salvia patted the bed besides her. Calida obliged, settling on the rough mattress. "Let me tell you a story."
Calida knew she should have declined; her grandma needed to save her breath, not use it on stories, but the child that still dwelled within her shushed her, and Calida smiled briefly.
Touching Calida's forehead lightly, Salvia said, "You should smile more, Lida. That scowl you always wear will do you no good finding a man."
Calida sighed. "Grandma, I said I dont want to ge-"
She was interrupted by her grandma clapping her hands together, creating a louder noise than Calida thought possible with such thin hands. Like every one of her stories, Salvia started off by declaring,
"There once was a..."
In that story, it was a cold, isolated boy.
There once was a boy who never left his home. He had no friends, had no foes, had no one. For years, he stayed locked inside, detatched from the outside world. Everyone thought him queer, odd, abnormal, for his windows were boarded shut and his door nailed in.
Then, one day, an old man knocked on his door.
The boy tore his door open to reveal the old man and the world. Outside, it should have been spring, with green grass, blooming flowers, and singing birds. Instead, the world was covered in thick layers of snow. Everything was dead, and just like his house, all the others had boarded windows and nailed doors.
'What has happen?' The boy gasped.
'Your world is dying, boy, can't you see?' The old man swept his hand over all the white.
'But why?'
'The barrier between my world and yours has broken. My world has sucked the beauty of yours into mine. You must save your world, boy."
Though he wanted to deny and call the old man mad, he knew it was true. Through the years he had isolated himself, he had learned tremendously through studies and experiements- otherworldly things. He never desired for his world, but others.
'Sacrifices must be made, boy. I'm sure you understand.'
He nodded. 'Yes.'
The old man stretch out his hand, and the boy grasped it. Then, he was wisked away.
Millions of kids disappear every year, are reported as missing, and not all of them come back. Some are killed, others are kept. But every year, one child that goes missing looses the chance of ever seeing the face of their world again. They are taken to the old man's world, a sacrifice for the beauty of the worlds.
The boy is brought to the old man's world, and everything is painfully beautiful. Unnaturally yellow sunshine, airy, blue, cloudless skies, birds singing beautiful tunes, large trees with delicate leaves. Everything was perfect.
Except for the people.
Everyone who lived there lost their beauty to the world. They were unhealthily thin, their skin an ashy gray. Their hair was slim and dry. Their eyes and lips lost all color, and their skin was pulled tight to reveal every contour of their bodies. Each held a cane, no matter their age, as their backs bent forward like the old man's.
'I have grown old, boy, and I am tired. I need to rest.' The old man said one day, years later. The boy had grown into a young man, and everyday, he became uglier, more goblin-like. 'You must take over my job. Collect one beautiful soul every year. Keep the rift mended.'
Salvia went on for the next hour, describing the boy's journies back to his world every year. One in particular caught her attention.
On the year the boy turned 19, as he walked his old world to find the beautiful soul destined to leave, he stumbled upon the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and immediately knew it was her. It took time for her to finally trust him, and on the time spent together, they grew closer and the boy absorbed some of the world's beauty.
Soon enough, the boy did the most forbidden thing: he had fallen in love. He spent the nights with her for weeks, loving the beauty that shone on the outside and within. But soon the urge to go back home came, and he knew it would end.
At the dead of night, he chased her down a dark hall, knife in hand. He would not bring her home, for her beauty was too precious. Yet if he did not bring her, he would feel the pull forever. So when he caught her, he knew what he had to do.
He had to preserve her beauty.
He had to kill her.
One last kiss, one last exchange of words, one last breath.
Then, he stabbed her beautiful heart.
When he returned with no beautiful soul, the people of the world went hungry for beauty, and they took what he had gained from the other world. Sucked him dry until he was nothing.
The tale was so similar to that of the one Thea had pefromed so many times over and over again. Their father's favorite.
Calida felt like a child once more, listening to her grandma tell tales that could never be real. She still adored all of them, from the flaming bright birds to the world made of ice. She remembered listening to them every night after her parents and Thea were fast asleep, sneaking into Salvia's room to listen to stories.
"Why do all of your stories end in in death, grandma?" She had asked that one night after listening to a tale about a girl in love with a star angel. He had made a deal with the gods, as they could not be together if she was mortal and him and angel. In the end, she had disappeared into the stars, and the angel spent every night counting the stars, searching for her.
"They don't all die, dear Lida. The stories leave openings like that for you to imagine what really happens to them. Some may die, but others still live. Their lives have just changed."
"I don't want to change, grandma. I want to stay like this."
Salvia had shaken her head. "No, Lida. You don't."
Calida stood from the bed and took the now cold bowl of soup from her grandma's lap. "Thank you, grandma."
Salvia nodded, smiling slightly, and Calida went to the door, bowl in hand. Salvia's stories always helped to lighten her mood, though most were childish and pure fantasy.
"All stories have meaning, Calida. Each one tells something." Salvia said, as if reading Calida's thoughts.
Stopping at the doorway, Calida turned back to her grandma. Salvia had slid back down to rest on her bed, blankets pulled to her chin. Her eyes were shut, but the twitch at her lips told Calida she was not asleep.
"And what does the story you just told me mean? What is it telling me?"
Salvia opened her eyes, and though her mouth was titlted with amusement, her eyes held no humor. They were the most solemn she had seen her grandma in a while- even when she was telling stories, Salvia enjoyed playing. The sight unnerved her slightly, and she was tempted to look away.
"It is telling you to take up the boy's invitation tomorrow."
Thea was laying sprawled on her bed when Calida entered. She layed down on her own bed, pulling the itchy blue blanket up to her chin. She stared up at the plain, white ceiling silently. Thea did not acknowledge her presense, plaiting her long, blonde hair. An untouched bowl of soup sat on the small table between their beds.
She wasn't sure how Salvia knew about the party invite. Perhaps she overheard Thea talking about it, but Lucien and Calida had been the only one in the woods that night when he had given her the invitation. No one else knew, as she hadn't told seeing as she wasn't planning on going. Salvia had changed everything; most thought her ludicrous and delusional, but Calida learned to view her grandma as wise through out her years spent listening to the woman's stories.
"Thea." Rolling onto her side, Calida turned her eyes upon her sister. Silence followed for a few moments, thinning and stretching until Thea sighed.
"Calida." There was a tention behind her words, her voice extremely strained as she tied back her plaits.
Guilt suddenly flooded Calida. At that moment, as Thea laid there, her little sister looked so innocent and pure. Thea had asked her to give her some space, let her be independent, yet Calida was always there. That day, when she had told Thea to go to the market herself, she had been so selfish. Thea didn't need her hovering over her shoulder, but to completely abandon her was erroneous of her as an older sister.
"The party tomorrow-" She started, but Thea interrupted her,
"I can get there myself."
"No, I was going to say-"
"Lucien will be there, so you won't have to worry about me."
"I'm going too." The four syllables hung on the air for a moment, charged and electrifying.
Suddenly, Thea shot up in bed, her eyes wide and wrathful. Her lips were pulled back in the most menacing look she could conjure, and her hands gripped her blanket tightly.
"No." The word left with such force that Calida blinked in surprise. "No you are not."
Swing her legs over the bed, Calida made an effort to grab Thea's hands, but her sister reeled away.
"Thea. I was invited."
Throwing her hands in the air, Thea cried out, frustrated. "You just can't leave me alone, can you? You just must follow me everywhere!"
"I am not following you, Thea! Is the idea of me being invited to a party so absurd?"
Thea cried out, "Yes! Yes it is! People don't invite you to parties! They're all afraid of you!" Her eyes gleamed with anger, and she puffed her cheeks, which were flushed red.
Calida blinked, and her cheeks burned like she had been slapped on the face. Though she had always known it to be true, for the words to come from Thea's mouth, who never spoke so harshly towards her, stung deeply. It slashed at her heart, and she bled.
"I'm not going there for you." Rolling off of the bed, Calida walked towards the door. She brushed off her black pants, her mind intent on going for a long walk. "This, this is for me."
ns 18.68.41.175da2
