For as long as Ayalet could remember, she’d always dreamed of flying. She longed for the freedom that seemed to come with the idea of flight. Constantly looking up at the sky with jealousy and longing in her heart to see the birds high above gliding through the air with ease. Ayalet envied them and sometimes imagined what it would feel like to have wings of her own. The feeling of wings pulsing from her shoulder bones as they drummed to the wind around her. When she would close her eyes at night, sometimes it really felt like she was flying. Sometimes when she woke up, her back would feel as if it were aching and sore. As the day would wane, the soreness would fade with the memory of the dream.
Ayalet knew she should be thankful for things in her life, a roof over her head, food on the table; at least she wasn’t in an orphanage, but it's so hard to be happy. Her parents were gone, and she lived with her aunt. Ayalet’s mother, Holly, never knew her birth parents and was adopted along with another orphan, Krista, by an older pair of foster parents who couldn’t conceive children of their own. Despite both daughters being adopted, her adoptive sister never adjusted well to the adoption and remained closed off to their new family. Her father, Shayn, was an only child who lost his parents to a horrendous car accident the night of Ayalet’s birth. So with her aunt Krista being her only remaining family, who showed her niece no affection, Ayalet found herself emotionally alone in the world.
Times seem so much worse because she used to love her life, being at home. It was hard to go from perfect to lost, from wanted to lonely. She didn’t have a choice but to live with her aunt when she had no other family alive. And it was unavoidable that her aunt cared more about her public image than how Ayalet felt. The thought of how her aunt made her feel brought a pang of sadness into her heart. Even at school, she had no one she was close to. Ayalet felt as if no one would care if she suddenly disappeared from the world. She understood why she was sad, but her brain couldn't relay to her heart that what she was feeling was unreasonable. With the exception of her aunt, she understood that she made herself feel like she didn't belong, but she couldn't help what she felt. She wanted to fit in with everyone, but it felt like there was a glass wall separating her that she couldn’t get past. Ayalet knew it had been her that constructed the wall, but she didn’t know how to take the wall down and let people into her heart; into her life.
It hadn’t always been like this. As a kid Ayalet had no trouble fitting in, one would have even considered her to be an extravert. She had always looked a bit off compared to other people; her eyes stood out a bit and she was more athletically capable, but the friends she had said it was cool and never thought much of it. She didn’t start having trouble making friends until around the time her parents disappeared. Looking back, it was probably because Ayalet started shutting her friends out about the time the teasing started. It didn’t take long before she resorted to mostly being a shadow on the wall; it was safer.
As she neared her parent’s house, her thoughts drifted away to silence as she enjoyed the view of her house and garden. Even though they were gone, the house still belonged to her. She frequently went to work in the garden or just to stay in their old room when she was really missing them. The house had been in the family for generations.
The sight of her mother’s garden and how it seemed untouched by time was comforting to Ayalet. She found great pleasure in taking care of what her mother left behind. Many memories were made in this garden, most of which Ayalet struggled to remember. But that didn’t keep her from doing what she loved. Life was simple outside; there’s just you, the plants, and soft rich loamy soil. Smells enveloped her in a cocoon, birds chirped and flitted around her head, the warm sun heated her skin while the gentle breeze tickled her cheeks.
Minutes passed by as Ayalet admired her hard work over the past couple weeks. Bees were buzzing, birds singing, the wind rustled leaves and plants around her; so many sounds welcomed the new day. Flowers and plants completely surrounded her; to the right of the garden roses of many colors covered the earth, bleeding hearts softly fell to the ground, and larkspurs wagging back and forth. To the front tomato plants burdened with heavy green fruit hung low while radishes, beets, and carrots poked through the dark loam. On her left, next to a sea of daisies and snapdragons she could see green beans and cucumbers winding up the small rusting wire trellises her father had lovingly built. While to the back some strawberries, squash, rhubarb, and hundreds of raspberries grew in the very far corner of the garden. So many smells enveloped her from every which direction. Her senses felt like they were on a roller coaster, never stopping long enough to let her focus on just one. As she looked at the vast array of colors, it felt as if she was twirling in the center of a thousand rainbows. All around, the flora glistened with morning dew, the sun barely above the horizon.
Wiping the dirt off of her worn out pants, Ayalet turned to look up in admiration of her beloved home. Suddenly, wind dove through the garden, rustling all the flowers and trees, bringing life to a still canvas. Gathering her hair in hand, she held it down. When the wind blows, it feels as if it were a person all its own. She liked to pretend it was a hand running their fingers through her hair; the way it moved felt like utter freedom. The wind has always been a playful thing to her and it almost filled a gap in her heart. It may not be a real person, but she tried to find happiness in what she could to stay afloat in her lonely life.
Looking up, Ayalet was reminded by small details that this was home. Vines climbing up the brick walls to the smoky gray tile roof. She remembered her father had to replace it when a wind storm splintered parts of the roof. The chimney with which her parents used to burn wood during the wintertime and snuggle up in front of the fireplace to tell stories. Stain glass windows with a vast array of colors with plant pots sitting on the window sill. Her mother used to take some of the plants from the garden and put them in pots to place closer to the house to bring it more life. The bricks have such a large range of colors hidden in each individual brick. Undertones of many colors yet others barely visible coming from reflections around the house. When she was younger, her dad told her she tried coloring on the bricks with a marker. You couldn’t see the markings anymore due to rain but she laughed when she remembered how stern her father had tried to be. So many details of her home that bring back past memories called to her, luring her in with the sweet little moments she had so often found herself longing for.
Out past the garden, a golden field of wheat flowed in the wind like the ocean. Trees of various kinds scattered the field; while countless others left a dark outline along the horizon. Directly in the middle of this perfect picture, an uneven line of spacious old stones about a foot in diameter lead a path through the field, into the forest and up to the heavens. Above the scenery was a completely bare sky, not a single cloud in sight yet different hues of pink, orange and purple just beginning to seep into it to welcome the new day. Smiling, she walked back towards her house. The grass hadn’t been cut in a few weeks and was almost completely overwhelming the stones that lead back to the door. It kind of gave the area a forbidden and mystical feel to it.
In pure bliss, Ayalet decided to milk it for all it's worth. When she worked in her garden, it felt as though nothing could ever bring her down. So, hopping from one stone to the next, she made her way out of the garden that held a dear place in her heart.
Sometimes, she wanted to have at least one other person to spend her time with, to talk to. Anytime she convinced herself to try, fear stopped her dead in her tracks. The same worry always popped up in her mind; if she opened up to someone, would they just leave, disappear out of her life? How could she handle losing someone else in her life the way she lost her parents? How could she ever give someone that power again?
How could she trust someone not to just disappear when her own parents did? How was she even able to open up to someone new and trust them when she didn't know if her own parents had wanted her? She knew there was likely a very good reason they disappeared, but a small part of her resented them for leaving her. They could have left a note or something to let her know that they loved her. That they had a good reason for leaving. How could a child truly recover from that emotional trauma?
Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. Turning her head, Ayalet noticed a figure standing next to a tree down the street. It seemed to have short hair, the clothes looked to be a low cut top and short shorts. She must be a girl to be wearing those clothes. For a minute she just stood there, unmoving, leaning against the tree. A flash of red glimmered around her head. A burst of wind blew Ayalets hair into her face and by the time she pulled it out of the way, the figure was gone.
Turning, she walked into the house and looked up at the calendar on the fridge, May 17th; It was her golden birthday too. “Happy birthday”, Ayalet said to herself, feeling sad and lonely again. She’d love someone to share her birthday with. Someone to be happy that she existed. Someone to appreciate her for who she was and unconditionally love her for it.
Ayalet walked from the kitchen into her old bedroom. The first thing she saw were extremely bright green walls that her parents painted exactly one week before they themselves disappeared. 8 years they’ve been gone. In one corner, there was her tiny chestnut dresser that she helped her dad paint a dark green. Looking at it made a smile creep up her face as she looked at the tiny handprints where she leaned against it. It brought back wonderful memories of her running after her father, trying to cover his face with tiny paint fingers. They laughed together as they trailed paint around the house.
Stolen novel; please report.
Her parents loved to repaint things in the house; they always used to say that it brought life to everything, a personality. That after you see the same thing over and over it starts to lose some of its beauty and uniqueness. Wiping her eyes, she glanced up. Located right above the dresser was a map of the mountains surrounding the city. Next to that was a twin size bed in the far corner of the room with an ocean blue bedspread on top of it. Her mother made it herself, which was getting to be too small for her nowadays. When she did stay the night here, she usually spent it in her parents’ bed. Wishing, when she opened her eyes, they’d be looking down at her.
Besides a few knick knacks here and there, there wasn’t much to her childhood room. The only things were what she received from her parents before they vanished; but even those things were all children’s toys that only held memories.
She’d always spent her birthday at her parents’ house, it was kind of like a tradition and because it made her feel closer to them. Usually, just being in her Aunt Krista's house puts her in a foul mood; she never feels like she’s good enough and her aunt only amplifies those feelings.
Feeling kind of down, she stood up and changed clothes for school. As she opened the door to walk outside she was warmed by the sun's rays and tickled by a soft breeze.
Being outside is the most relaxing thing in the world; it doesn’t change for a single individual, no matter what their expectations or needs. Such nice weather was always a great way to brighten her day. Looking up at the sky, she felt unexplainable hope in her heart. The sunrise had a distinct sparkle to it, almost like something special was going to happen today.
As she walked, she suddenly felt as if her legs were trudging through quicksand, forcing her to a stop. Her heart rate picked up drastically. Suddenly a face appeared in her mind, a young boy close in age to herself. Scruffy dark brown hair maybe about 3 or 4 inches long, eyes the deep green color of pine tree needles hidden behind long eyelashes. Upon his cheeks, light freckles with a single one on his chin and naturally tanned skin; probably earned by working hours in the blazing sun. His face jumped from pure unconditional love to sadness. She didn’t understand what could make him so sad when he looked breathtaking with a smile adjourning his face. It made her want to hug him close for comfort. She’d never seen him before, so she had no idea where the image could have come from; probably just her crazy imagination.
Putting his image to the back of her mind, she bent down to get ready before sprinting her way to school. Kicking up dust, she ran as the wind flowed through her long golden brown hair. As the wind danced across her skin, she felt butterflies tickle her insides. She laughed a bit with each step as her feet barely touched the ground. Bright beautiful flowers and green grass waved in the wind as she passed. All around, she could taste a distinctly sweet smell in the air as she looked up at the sky high above with clouds of many different shapes and sizes; many futures yet to be told. It was such an amazing feeling, running; it’s almost like she could fly. What’s weird was that it felt like déjà vu, the weightlessness; however, the thought quickly slipped from her mind as she fell into a rhythm.
The town she lived in was a quaint little town located in the mountains by the ocean in Monter, California. Monter’s hidden away from the world, located in a small valley hidden between the many peaks. Looking out at the landscape, besides a few fields here and there, she saw mostly coniferous trees for miles painting rolling hills and mountains.
While it rarely snowed, the temperatures were never that hot either. They got to experience warm summer days, different color leaves dancing in the fall and many different types of flowers growing during the spring. Her favorite time of the year was springtime. Spring, with all of its vivid buds and blossoms, critters opening their eyes for the first time, many new beginnings just awaiting the chance to appear. It was unfair how there were so many mystical things in life that so many people simply pass by, never stopping to admire them.
Having only ever lived in a small town, going into bigger towns was overwhelming. So, she rarely went out to explore bigger cities. Being the center of attention always made her anxious, she preferred being invisible, it made life easier. Along with that, it made her appreciate going to a small school; in which case, they rarely got new students. There was a new kid years ago that tried talking to her a bit, but it didn't go so well. . .
What would she do once she graduated? She was in high school right now but it would soon be over. All the teachers lately kept asking what the upperclassmen wanted to do after they graduated. Honestly, how was anyone supposed to know? Maybe a gardener of some sort. Ayalet always loved flowers from her parents' garden, so it would certainly make sense.
Most days blurred together lately; her life felt like a train on a track running in circles. Doing the same thing everyday, she felt like she lived her life day to day just barely getting by. It grew tiresome, and made her long for the days when she could create her own new adventures, taking hold of her own life instead of doing what was expected of her.
After the usual ten minute jog to school, she walked into the double doors located at the front of the building. Monter Valley Charter School wasn’t the biggest or even the best school in the world, but it was small and cozy. She’d been going to the same school since kindergarten. Each class could hold about 20 students; however there were maybe 14 students per classroom. No one had to wear uniforms, however the students did have limitations. As far as Ayalet was aware, she’d always lived here; in that time, she hadn’t seen any major changes. The next closest school was about an hour away; they were basically in the middle of nowhere.
Being a junior, most of Ayalets classes were located near the front of the school. She tried to make it a point to get to school slightly earlier than everybody else; she liked the quiet of the school halls. You could hear the wind whistling in as people opened the doors. You didn’t have to worry about lockers slamming or the echoes as people talked loudly to be heard over everyone else.
Making her way down the hallway, she walked into her first class, English to take her seat. Her usual seating area was somewhere on the farthest row to the right or left, away from the rest of the class. She always turned in her homework and studied hard to make good grades. However, Ayalet had absolutely no idea what she wanted to do with her life. The school counselor constantly reminded her that the world stops for no one, that she needed to start thinking about it and taking her life seriously.
As she sat there looking out the window watching some of the other early comers meander towards the school, she began feeling a bit dizzy. She barely had time to register what was going on when her ears started ringing and a cold sweat beaded a trail down her arms and back. Pain shot through her head causing her to hunch forward, clutching her head. She felt panic rise and seal her throat as her vision began to darken. Suddenly, broken images ran through her brain, things that didn’t make sense, faces she couldn’t recall, fractures of memories that didn’t belong to her. Next to her, a young man looking no older than 16 was screaming as tears rolled down his cheeks, blood seeping out from a stub of an arm. All around her, sounds were exploding, guns were being shot. Bodies in odd positions laid on the ground in uniforms of blue and gray while people were running and scrambling in every direction. Suddenly a loud explosion rang in her ears as a cannon was shot a few meters away from her. The last thing she saw was dust exploding in her face before the ringing disappeared.
The sound of cannons changed to a single wailing sound of pain, was she still in the same vision? Blurring, the colors changed to a flickering candle lit room. The bitter, sour taste of medicine and death consumed her nose, making her head stuffy. Next to Ayalet there’s what looked to be a pregnant woman breathing heavily as a dark figure with a bird-like mask stood ominously over her, a roll of parchment in one hand and a large black quill in the other. The room was thick with sweat, vomit and excrement. As she looked closer, the lady had boils all along her body with patches of dead skin along her arms. She turned to look away and saw a rat scamper along the floor to hide under the bed.
Again her vision grew hazy and she found herself swimming in water; nearby she smelled moss and pine trees. A wave crashed down around her, the sun beating down from above. Next to her, a man's head popped out of the water as another cannonballed into the pond. In the middle of the pond there was a giant rock standing 3 feet above the water line. The two men that were cannonballing were now wrestling in the water as they made their way to the center of the lake. One started climbing onto the rock when the other pulled him off and quickly climbed to the top. He then belted out, “I’m king of the castle.”
Thrust into what she could assume to be yet another vision, she was overwhelmed by the smell of smoke and burning flesh. Flames erupted all around, blurring her sight. The smoke burned her lungs as she choked and gasped for breath. She could feel her heart thudding erratically in her chest. Through the flames, she could barely make out dozens of cruel faces around her.
The heat faded away from around her as she smelled coal and heavy smoke. The flames disappeared and through the dark heavy smoke she saw a train. All around her, a huge crowd of people were pushing her around. Nearby, babies were crying, tears streaming down the faces of all different ages as they were getting shoved forward into train cars. Ladies were wearing bland colored dresses with stains and rips in them, men in worn trench coats with their pants ending just under their knees. The smell coming off the bodies was a mixture of sweat and urine. The last thing she saw was the door of the train car closing and enveloping her in darkness.
After what seemed like an hour, her vision shadowed; a feeling similar to how it felt when you first walk inside from being outside in the cold. She slowly became aware of the students sitting at their desks and of the sweat dripping down her neck. Gathering her sleeve around her hand, she wiped away the droplets as the teacher walked in and started calling absentees. She contemplated raising her hand to go to the nurse’s office… but how could she explain what just happened. What would she even say? No, maybe she just fell asleep, she hadn’t slept well the night before. That had to have been it.
Ayalet opened her book, getting ready for today’s lesson when the teacher quieted the class and announced a new student. A couple people behind her whispered something about the new student as the teacher asked someone named Jaison to walk to the front of the class. As he passed, she was overwhelmed by the smell of cedar and honey, like she was standing in a pine forest. The chair creaked behind her and the next thing she knew, he was standing next to the teacher.