Norah kicks her feet off the grand marble steps. Her small, soft fingertips trace along the cool, grey veins stretching out into branches. She sighs lightly to herself as the wind danced gracefully through the budding trees. Each tree was exploding with pink and cream blossoms. Some of the flowering trees were so vibrant they burned Norah’s eyes. She drew her gaze back downward to her pom-pom feet.
“Norah!” The shout startled Norah out of her reverie. She sprung to her feet; her knees kissed red by the sun. She could feel the elastic of her pant legs and sleeves digging into her soft flesh. With her small fingers she scratched away the pain. Her little legs bobbed her up the giant steps. She ran up straight to a crystalline window.
Her small, round face had a beautiful glow about it. She reached her arms up and straightened her pointy pom-pom hat. She made certain she smoothed down any wrinkles that had gathered in her polka dot costume. She nodded solemnly to herself and then forced a wide toothed grin.
She skipped happily to the queen. When she arrived, the queen was sprawled over the golden throne. Norah immediately began juggling. The queen waved her thin, bony hand dismissively. Norah tried to make herself smile even wider. She hoped that maybe if she was happy enough, it might rub off on the queen.
It was at that point that Norah decided she would have to go to drastic measures in order to cheer up the queen. She went to the work chest and grabbed a beautiful aqua ball, hand painted with glittering, silver stars. Norah’s eyes wondered at the wonderful piece of plastic. She thought of someone that might be her mother sitting down with her to paint those stars.
That someone, who she had claimed as her mother, made certain that each star was precisely wonderful. She thought that perhaps her mother would even put some of that glittering silver paint on Norah’s nose and cheek, saying that she glowed. Norah would love to own some sparkly paint like that one day.
The ball was fun because it was larger in every way compared to Norah. Norah kept hold of her juggling balls and jumped up fearlessly to the top of the ball. She had seen Clown Darlene jump and balance on this ball hundreds of times. Darlene made the balancing and juggling combo look effortless and graceful. She always managed to look lighter than air as she spun and jumped around the room. Norah wanted to be just like Clown Darlene.
The queen actually sat up from lounging and looked attentively to Norah when she was atop the giant ball. Norah giggled and felt the happiest she had ever felt. A small smile sat in the corners of the queen’s lips. Norah knew she had to work only a little more to get a laugh.
Norah then threw her juggling balls into the air and kicked up her left leg straight. To Norah’s surprise, the ball completely shifted underneath her. The world began to move too fast like a wet painting, all colors smearing together. Norah’s little foot had lifted from the ball and couldn’t find a suitable hold. Norah began to struggle and stuck her arms out on both sides of her in to find some sort of balance. Norah heard her juggling balls bounce against the ground. Her eyes were locked onto the queen as she felt herself fall.
She did not realize quite how large the ball had been before she hopped up on it. The world all at once seemed so much bigger than she had remembered. The queen rushed forward with outstretched arms.
Norah fell heavily into the thin, pale arms of the queen. It was in the moment of being cradled by the queen that Norah realized just how heavy she really was. She felt incredibly cozy, here, being fussed over by someone. The queen smelled of a soft, delicate rose. A small warmth creeped up into Norah’s cheeks as her sparkling emerald eyes gazed into the queen’s swirling, stormy eyes.
“Norah,” the queen gently whispered. Norah’s eyes fluttered softly in response. The queen smiled softly, not like before. There was something loving about it but also sad.
“That was amazing!” The queen said with a vibrant spark. She placed Norah back down on her feet. Norah marveled at the queen.
Norah suddenly felt shy with acknowledgement of her skills. Norah’s heart began to flutter in admiration for the queen. Maybe one day she could eventually make the queen laugh and smile. The queen gently patted her mint-colored hair. The queen walked out of the room with her gown of flowing lace trailing behind her. Norah wished she could follow the queen. She wanted to hold her hand, to be held in her arms once more. Norah dreamt of the love of her queen.
Norah knew she would think back to the moment she spent with the queen when time seemed to suddenly shift into a slower speed. Norah wanted run to her cot in the girl’s dormitory this very instant. She wanted to instantly recount the previous passing moment. She wished to cement every small and intricate detail in her mind to remember and cherish it always.
However, she did not rush to her bed. Instead, Norah trudged herself over to the main teaching hall.
--
Clown Michelle was already waiting for her. She pinched Norah’s ear and dragged her farther into the room. Clown Michelle gave Norah a sharp lecture about how she hadn’t been trained yet for the ball, juggling combo trick. Norah was still just an apprentice. The queen could decide at any moment that Norah was a useless, no-good bum possessing a talent for only screwing things up. Norah had interrupted the queen’s busy schedule with her stupidity. Was Norah getting all this?
Norah quickly recounted all the reasons why she was lucky. She gave each reason a silent nod of gratitude as she marched on. Norah nodded numbly as her mind wandered out and away from this heavy brick room in the castle. She thought of the beautifully cool marble steps to the castle’s garden. How the trees flowers sometimes were so full they looked like the pompoms on her hat and shoes. The gravel scratched against one another as they adjusted to each step she took. The stones were sharp but glimmered in the warm light from the sun.
Clown Michelle ended the conversation with a solid slap to the face. Norah could feel the sting claw its way into her skin. She attempted to rub it away gently with the back of her own hand. Clown Michelle then grabbed Norah’s arm and hauled her to solitary confinement.
The room was composed of rough, grey cinder blocks. Norah only knew this because of the glimpse of light the room experienced from the opening of the door. Nothing else inhabited the box. The space was small, but in the dark it became big, as most spaces did.
“You can come out tomorrow,” Clown Michelle said as the lock dully clicked into place. Norah placed her small hands out in front of herself. She stumbled her way next a corner. She drew her knees in tightly to her chest until she felt her thighs ache. The room seemed to swallow her all at once in its vastness.
Norah slowed down her breathing. She whispered to her quivering heart. She was entirely safe in this room. Her friends all were sitting down to dinner. The queen was probably wandering the castle halls. Clown Michelle would be rolling her eyes at Clown Darlene’s jokes.
Little Norah closed her eyes and dove into her mind. She danced through her many, many happy memories. However, in all the smiles; tears, and guilt tainted her earliest memories. She could feel them, distant and warm to her eyes.
She played them over and over again in her head until the details seemed to be a little clearer. She remembered a tall woman without a face. The woman was holding onto her hand loosely. They seemed to walk for an eternal day throughout a giant forest. Norah was so small at that time. She remembered the trees towering above her. She was constantly scared that the trees were stalking them, waiting to eat them for lunch. Occasionally Norah’s legs would grow too weak. Her body would fall onto the forest floor. She felt the softness of the wild grass tickle her face. Twigs and dried leaves would also scratch at her flesh. The woman would sometimes carry Norah’s aching body.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Norah felt safe and warm in the woman’s embrace. The assurance Norah felt with this woman was enormous. Norah could not help but giggle that she trusted this woman and now she was a stranger to her. Norah wanted the woman to carry her just one more time.
After the never-ending forest of tangled trees, they reached a cobblestone pathway. The pathway led to a bustling marketplace full of faceless people. The sounds of the city scared Norah. She had never heard the whistle of a train or so many people shouting at once. People knocked into Norah, causing her to bump into the woman’s legs. Norah’s tiny hands balled up into fists in the woman’s long, dark skirts.
The woman led the way. Norah followed along blindly, staring down at the varied colored cobblestones. They stopped at a man’s stall. He was shouting loudly, moving his hands wildly about. Norah swore she felt the woman squeeze her hand just a tad bit tighter than normal. She looked up to see the woman’s face, but it was just out of reach. She remains a blurry, but kind figure in her mind’s eye.
The woman’s voice also was hazy. It was sweet but far away. Only a tone and a feeling remained as opposed to actual words. The woman relinquished Norah’s hand. She picked Norah up ever so gently. Norah was handed over to the loud man. Norah stretched out her arms in order to signal her displeasure at being passed off to a stranger. Norah did not remember the woman walking away, hugging her, kissing her, or even saying goodbye. Her memory cut out at that point, deeming it unimportant to continue processing her situation.
Norah’s next memories were of her being in a large room where she felt like the smallest person alive. Everyone and everything seemed to engulf her small frame. Concern pricked Norah’s heart. People just bustled around her. Women’s long, flowing skirts would swish as they jogged across the tile. Their heels would click rhythmically on their way. Men were shouting and whispering at the same time. Their hands held onto their hats and thick, smoking cigars.
Norah was sitting in a fluffy, red velvet chair. To distract herself, Norah drew patterns in the grain of the velvet with flicking motions of her fingers. A woman with puffy, black sleeves grabbed Norah’s hand tightly and dragged her away. Norah’s small legs could hardly keep up, every other step she seemed to lift off the floor. The commotion of the hall faded away.
The next thing Norah remembered was being on a train. She was in a sleeper car with some other children. Some of them wailed the entire time while they crossed the choppy sea. Big, boiling black storm clouds chased after them on the edge of the horizon.
Other children often played with Norah. They played hide and seek, tag, and eye spy. Norah’s mind paints a beautiful, warm glaze over the tops of each of these memories. They are far away but palpable. Many of the children barely have faces now.
She barely remembered looking out the frosted windows of the train. The thick glass rattled inside its steel casing. Little fingers of ice stretched out across the surface of the glass. Norah looked out the window and was entranced by the ocean. She thought the ocean itself had choreographed a special performance just for her.
With the steady sway of an ocean replaying in her mind, Norah fell gently to sleep. The coldness of the brick wall against her back did not seem to bother her anymore. The woman with no face accompanied her in her dreams. They both boarded the train to dance with the ocean.
----
Norah awoke to Clown Michelle clutching her arm and flinging her out of the room. Norah barely had time to catch herself from falling into a pile on the floor. She gazed up cautiously at Clown Michelle, keeping her eyes steady. She tried to gauge her teacher’s emotions.
“Training,” Clown Michelle told her in a huff. Norah straightened her back and walked behind her teacher. She was ready for the day.
Training days were especially hard for Norah. They consisted usually of practicing the skills they had learned the previous week or weeks prior. Perfection was the standard expected of the students. The clown school desired their movements to be concise, fluid, and overall, natural. They wanted you to make a triple backflip holding fire and landing daintily on a tightrope to look easy.
Norah prepped her body for the action by stretching. Slowly, her muscles and joints began to ease up. She could feel the tingle of exhaustion buried just beneath her surface. She imagined the tiredness as paper. She wandered through her body, collecting and crumpling up the paper that was scattered throughout. She then took the paper and crammed it into itself until it made a tight ball. With one swift motion, she threw the feeling away.
Training seemed to go on forever. Norah couldn’t remember what her boy felt like without pain. It seemed like a far-off fantasy when her little body wasn’t sore. Streams of sweat trickled down her temples and onto the ground. Clown instructors were screaming in both her ears. Most times they would come up to her to purposefully mess up her form. They wanted her to fight them and be solid as a rock, but she was too tired for that right now.
Norah fought every fiber of her being as she forced her stiff arms to push herself up again. Once her feet were shakily back in place someone else would come around and fling her face into the dirt. It eventually got to be so often that she just accepted the gritty earth in her mouth. She gritted her teeth against the particles of sand and held them in place with determination.
-
The queen stood watch at the training session. She was keeping an eye out for any special talents amongst the apprentices. Clown Michelle stood by the queen’s side analyzing the session.
“We have a few that might show some potential later on,” Michelle said tightly with disappointment. The queen’s grey eyes flashed, a smile resting upon her face.
“That one there,” She pointed into the distance.
“Norah?”
“Yes! That’s the one that attempted the ball stunt,” The queen nodded.
“She’s a bit too eager and stubborn. Nothing special there,” Michelle chuckled lightly, brushing the queen off entirely.
“Do you know how pearls are made, Clown Michelle?” The queen’s smile turned mischievous. Michelle’s eyes leveled with the queens.
“Be blunt, Lorelai.”
“Force, pressure, build her into something special,” The queen stated impatiently.
“Why settle for a pearl when you can have a diamond?” Michelle’s shrugged, a smirk curling the corner of her mouth.
That was the moment that altered everything for Norah. She would not know about the conversation between Queen Lorelai and Clown Michelle. She would grow to understand the familiar feeling of multiple eyes boring into her face, form, and figure. Everything she did would be analyzed and critiqued. She would be urged to be perfect in every way. If she ever fell short of the expectations, they would beat it into her until it became simple instinct.
She would wake from a dead sleep to perform drills. Healers would tend to her first to give her extra training time to perform. Pain and exhaustion became a regular part of her life. Every day she would be pushed harder than before. Only months after their agreement to crush Norah into their desired mold, the queen decided to share the news with Norah.
Norah was summoned into the Queen’s office.
The office had beautiful, glittering gemstones in the walls. Each was polished to shine a reflection back. Norah stood stiff and straight in the middle of the office. The Queen stood neatly in front of her beautifully carved maple desk. Butterflies and flowers were delicately carved into images in the wood. Norah wanted to run her hands along the surface of the pictures, yet she kept both of her hands tightly at her sides. She would remain composed in front of her queen.
“Do you know why I have summoned you here today, Norah?” The Queen said gently. Norah shook her head in response. The small child dared look up into the Queen’s deep, warm brown eyes. She held her gaze. The Queen’s rosebud lips curled into a gentle smile. The Queen knelt down to meet Norah’s gaze.
“You are a very special little girl” Norah’s eyes widened with the mention of her praise.
“Do you love me?” The Queen’s brow furrowed in concern.
“Yes, my Queen. Very much. More than anything” Norah did not hesitate. The Queen’s smile broadened to reveal perfectly neat pearlescent teeth. She bent forward, just enough so that her mouth was near Norah’s ear. She spoke urgently but softly.
“I need a secret warrior,” The Queen whispered.
“One that is completely loyal to myself and my kingdom. You must pledge your complete devotion to me. You will become my hidden warrior and champion. Do you understand?” The Queen was now staring into Norah’s eyes again. Norah’s heart was beating fast with the possibility of it all.
“Yes, my Queen” Norah bowed her head.
“On the outside, you will take on the role of the Flyer. This will explain your extensive training. However, you will be my personal secret guard and assassin, loyal and reporting only to me and a select few of your head mistresses – My Jack. Clear?” The Queen’s tone was serious, hollow of sweetness.
“I understand.” Norah nodded in acknowledgement.
“This position will cost you your life in many ways. You will be expected to beat, torture, and kill people all in my name.”
“Anything, my Queen.” Norah bowed once more.
“Good. You will train relentlessly everyday to become a better champion. I expect nothing but the absolute best of your abilities, Norah. I will also see to it that you receive personal favors in exchange for your loyalty.” She held a small smile.
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“The final piece of this bargain is that you tell no one. Do you, Norah, swear all of your life and service to me, Queen Lorelai, of Magnolia Isles?” The Queen pulled a sharp, glittering dagger from her side. She held out her hand, waiting for Norah to lay her palm gently in hers.
With only a small moment to hear the Queen’s words, Norah offered her hand willingly. Norah stared straight into the Queen’s eyes as the flesh on her palm peeled apart. Norah’s eyes flinched only for a moment to acknowledge the pain. The Queen drew the dagger across her own palm. Norah’s small, soft palm was overtaken by the Queen’s adult hand. The mixing of their blood cemented their relationship and respect of one another.