Forever Royal by D.S. Weissman

Author:D.S. Weissman
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: ABDO
Published: 2016-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHARLOTTE

When Charlotte arrived at the burial grounds she searched for the single stick, a thread of discoloration against the plain of snow. A figure skulked to the tree line. Whoever it was had an awkward gait, like he or she was unused to the current texture of the ground, and had to limp to keep from slipping. She turned back to the grounds and couldn’t find the stick. She thought her eyes played tricks on her.

After the funeral she had waited until everyone had left the grounds. Mo had covered the hole with frozen dirt and snow. She remembered the quiet air, the silent air, the sounds of the night when everyone was sleeping, except the sun hovered over the horizon, refusing to let the day end. In the final drops of sunlight she had found a large, thin branch and shoved it into the ground. At the time she imagined all the things she could have said, all the things she should have said. She thought of all the beautiful things characters said before they died or to their loved ones who passed. She thought of the things she had wanted to tell her parents once. She loved them. They and all the things they would have told her meant the world to her. She was their world. There would never be another person like her.

She remembered the first story she had told James. She had told him about her favorite word: “anatidaephobia,” which was the fear of being watched by a duck. But that didn’t seem like the right word to say as she had stuck the stick to the ground. Instead, she kissed her fingers one last time, touched the branch, and silently walked away.

Now the branch was gone. The closer she came to where she thought the branch should be, the more she found slushed snow and the far-off trees coming closer. She started to turn in frantic circles. Her head whipped back and forth. Her hair twirled and looked like swirls of snow at the fringes where the white dye continued to dangle. The snow would never be more than an awful memory soaked in blood, and now a place that also absorbed her marker.

“Where is it?” she screamed in the air. She closed her eyes. She could be seeing things, or perhaps just not seeing things. When she opened her eyes she expected to find the branch raised like a flag. It would tell her where James lay. Except it didn’t. She dropped to her knees and searched for a hole. Maybe the stick fell over and was covered by slush. She couldn’t find a clue to where the stick had been. Then she remembered the figure that had hobbled to the trees. She looked for footprints. The slush made the prints harder to follow. These prints glowed like an animal’s. Somehow, she knew, those tracks would tell her where the marker had gone. Charlotte made her way toward the trees. Each step made a sloppy splash.

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