Beautiful Endings

By the time she stepped outside, the leaves were on fire.

The sinking sun set the golden leaves ablaze, making the woods around her house look surreal. She couldn’t help thinking of how poetic it was, the beauty found in the death of autumn leaves.

The porch creaked as Celia stepped out and shut the rickety door behind her. She paused for a moment, taking a full breath of the crisp evening air. Celia walked deeper into the gilded forest, following the path like she promised her mother she would. It was still warm enough to hear the songs of birds filling the air, though Celia knew they would be heading for warmer places soon enough. She wished everything could stay as it was, this moment in time with the fiery leaves and syrupy sweet birdsongs floating through the air. A cool fall breeze ran through the woods. Celia wrapped her arms around herself, grateful for the warm sweater holding her.

Nothing could go wrong in her forest. She knew these woods better than her favourite songs, the well worn paths the lyrics and the rustling of the trees the melody. Which is why the unusual markings on a tree that had not been there before caught her attention. A chill not from the breeze but from within ran through her body, but this forest was just as much her home as her house is and she could not, would not be scared away.

At last, she made it to her favourite spot, where the branches opened up to reveal the uninterrupted view of the magnificent sky. It was always bathed in sunlight, no matter the time of year. Celia closed her eyes and felt her heart give a familiar flutter as she stepped into the sun-bathed circle. A cozy blanket was already at home on the ground, a couple well loved pillows strewn about. Celia cozied onto the blanket leaning against the worn pillows.

Stars were just beginning to twinkle into existence. The golden glow fading behind the horizon gave way to the opalescent silver lights. A slipper moon, as her mom called it, hung daintily in the sky. Another beautiful ending, Celia thought, watching the last of the sunset… marking the end of another day. Like the leaves. The new moon would arrive in a few days, and her special place would be left without the pale glimmering, lit only by the soft twinkling of stars. As she stared at the sky, a sudden feeling of unease rushed over her.

Something’s wrong.

Her eyes scan her surroundings, but nothing immediately or visibly struck her as off. Celia looked back at the sky and nearly gasped. Now that she had noticed it, it was impossible to be unseen. How did I miss this?

The familiar branches that always opened up to create a perfect window to the sky had closed closer together, leaves straining to reach each other. Green leaves. She looked around again as if the forest would give her an answer.

Chills wracked her body. There were footprints leading deeper into the forest. Footprints that were not her own.

Someone had been there.

Though uncommon, there was the odd person that traipsed through Ceclia’s portion of the woods, but this was something different. Celia tried to ignore the creeping fear she hadn’t felt since being a little kid but her brain wouldn’t stop conjuring up images she didn’t want to imagine. Once the moon was too high to be seen through the smaller gap in the branches, Celia began to walk home apprehensively. The forest was darker than usual for this time of year, and for once Celia wished she had brought a flashlight. This is still your forest, she reminded herself, taking a calming breath. Celia felt herself relax. Whoever had been there was most likely long gone. Her heart stopped thrumming in her chest and she walked home at a leisurely pace, the stars keeping her company.

Then she heard the sound.

Fear spiked up her spine and her heart galloped like a runaway horse. She did her best to imitate it, running the rest of the way to her house, slamming the door behind her.

Her breaths came in short gasps as she tried to tell herself she had imagined the whispers, the crack of the broken branches underfoot.

“Lia? What’s wrong?” The soothing cadence of her mother’s voice put out the panic in her veins like a fire dosed with water.

“Nothing, I just…” she didn’t want to admit it. The forest was her place. Nothing could happen there.” “I got scared,” Celia heard herself whisper.

“Of what?”

“I don’t know.” Anyone else wouldn’t understand the gravity of the situation, the difference in the trees and creaking noises. No one else spent as much time as she did in the woods.

“You’re safe now,” her mom promised, enveloping Celia in her comforting embrace.

She wanted to believe her mother, but she could already feel the difference sinking into her bones.

Her forest was changing.

***

There’s no one out there, Celia told herself as she stood on her front porch. The sun was filtering in through the tree trunks, once again bathing the forest in golden light. Celia knew she was imagining it, but the colours seemed duller than yesterday. The vibrant reds and oranges of the leaves so like the colours that now painted the horizon could be seen for what they truly were: dying. Hanging on with their last breaths before they were swept away by the wind to join the others covering the forest floor. Even the sky, which had always been so surreally blue during the day, was faded, and it had nothing to do with the descending sun.

I can do this.

Celia stepped off her porch and started the familiar trek to her spot. To anyone else, everything would have seemed right, just as it was every day before. But Celia could feel something different, and she knew it wasn’t just in her paranoid mind, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise. At last she made it to her spot and did her best to tamper down the fear sneaking its way into her mind.

Still, she sat and tried to get comfortable. Sweet music filled the air from the speaker she brought along with her. Celia stared up at the empty sky, dearly missing her moon. For a while, everything was alright. I imagined it, she thought. This time she believed it.

Crack.

Celia whipped around, scanning around like her eyes were hungry for the sight.

Nothing. It was nothing.

I’m overreacting. She settled back down again, trying to lose herself in the melodies.

“Hello,” a voice whispered, so soft it could have been the wind.

Except, for once, the air was still. Celia turned the music down, listening intently. A fleeting thought, I can’t die at sixteen, passed through her mind. She told herself to run, told her legs to carry her home, but they would not obey. Celia sat paralyzed on the ground, held down to her spot like fear itself was resting a heavy hand on her shoulders, keeping her prisoner.

“Hello?” A soft voice whispered again. It was so soft and ethereal, Celia forgot her terror for a fleeting moment.

“Hello?” She echoed, hervoice wobbling and so quiet it could barely qualify as a whisper.

Any air left in her lungs was knocked out. A young girl, a few years younger than herself, stepped out from behind a tree.

She looked as if she had been sculpted by the autumn forest itself, her hair red as the auburn leaves, her skin pale as the incandescent starlight bathing everything. Except for the smattering of freckles covering her delicate features, Celia felt certain she would have been able to see straight through the mysterious girl. Her eyes seemed to reflect the dark sky above, inky and twinkling like she had stars hidden in their depths, secrets too vast for Celia to understand.

“Who…who are you?” Celia whispered.

“I am Aurora,” the girl answered, her voice silky as moonlight.

“Where did you come from?”

“Such an interesting question,” she said, her voice airy and contemplative. Celia was at a loss for words. “I tried to speak to you when you were here last but you ran away. Did I scare you?”

Celia’s mind was reeling. The sounds. The whispers. She hadn’t imagined anything.

“No…” she stammered. “Well, yes, you did. But only because I thought I…nevermind.” The crushed look on the girl’s face fractured Celia’s heart. “Your name is Aurora?”

“Yes. What is your’s?” She asked, the frown replaced with a hopeful smile. Celia studied the girl–-Aurora—again, like she was a piece of art. Her flowing dress looked as if it was made of the vines that crawled up the bases of the surrounding trees.

“I’m Celia,” she introduced herself, before she could second guess the action. Aurora’s face lit up, like she had swallowed the sun and it was shining from within. Celia couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her mouth. The fear that had consumed her was fading farther and farther away.

“Celia,” Aurora repeated, smiling.

“Celia!” Another voice called, echoing through the woods. Aurora turned to the sound, a deer spooked by a headlight. “Celia,” her father sighed. “You should have come home nearly an hour ago! Do you know how late it is?”

It was then she noticed the complete darkness of the sky, the quiet of the forest around her. She had never stayed out this late by herself.

“Sorry, Dad. I-” Celia cut herself off. Aurora was nowhere to be seen, hidden like the moon. Where did she go? “I lost track of time.”

They walked back to Celia’s home, the path lit by her father’s flashlight. She was smothered in a hug before she was even fully in the house.

“Don’t do that again!” Her mother scolded, still holding her tight.

“I’m fine, mom. I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“If you stay out this late again…”

“I know, I know.” She’d been leaving the same threat unfinished for years.

Celia crawled up to bed but couldn’t manage to grasp even the dregs of sleep. Her encounter with Aurora was running through her mind, replaying like a broken record. Where had she come from? Where did she go? The girl had vanished, incomparable even to smoke, leaving no trace behind. Was she even real?

The thought made her toss and turn endlessly until she couldn’t take it anymore. Quiet as she could, Celia crept out of bed and to the front door, cursing the old, creaking hinges. She illuminated the near pitch black darkness with the softness of her flashlight, watching for any sign of the girl.

At last she made it to her spot, the cold doing its best to seep into her bones.

“Aurora?” Celia whispered loudly.“Aurora?!”

No answer.

“It’s Celia,” she tried, hoping the girl would appear and grant her a shred of sanity. Though she was aware going out in the middle of the night proved her more insane.

“Hello,” Aurora said, stepping out from behind the same tree that she had earlier. Her hair was slightly messed, her eyelids drooping.

“Did I wake you?” It hadn’t occurred to Celia that Aurora might have been asleep.

“Yes, but that’s alright. Do you need anything?”

“No. No, I just…needed to make sure of something.”

“Okay well, goodnight.” As the girl turned around, Celia could have sworn she saw a slight glimmer lacing her figure.

“Goodnight.”

Aurora faded back into the shadows. Celia felt the weight of solidarity pressing against her as she traveled back to her house. The forest seemed to sparkle, even in the darkest time of night. Celia couldn’t ignore the change she felt while walking through the forest, though it wasn’t bad. Just different. Almost…magical, if Celia dared to think such an absurd thing.

Soon she was back in the comfort of her bed, and this time, sleep claimed her instantly.

***

Celia dropped her schoolbag off at her empty house after another boring, lonesome school day before leaving again for the forest.

Celia didn’t call out for Aurora this time. She knew the girl wasn’t there before she could hear the crushing silence devoid of her response. Celia felt the emptiness that came with solitude, the emptiness that she had become so used to. Disappointment bloomed in her chest. She slumped onto the blanket, opening the book she had brought with her out of habit. The sunlight blazing overhead warmed the mid-autumn evening, the usual breeze noticeably absent. The only sound was the occasional chirping of birds and the flipping of pages.

“Hello,” a melodic voice greeted. Celia startled, so immersed in the world of her novel she hadn’t heard the girl approach. “Did I frighten you?”

“No, my mind was just elsewhere…” Celia trailed off. Standing in the fading golden glow of the sun, Aurora seemed to shimmer. It was as if she had bathed in the softest iridescent glitter.

A blink, and it was gone.

“Where was it?”

“What?”

“You’re mind? You said it was elsewhere.”

Celia laughed softly. “In my book.” For the first time since she settled in her spot, Celia glanced at the golden sky. “I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”

“It was good?”

“My book? Yes, very good.”

“Tell me about it.”

Something flittered in Celia’s chest at the simple words no one had ever bothered to ask her. The two girls sat under the quickly sinking sun sharing stories, fictional slowly turning to real. At one point, Celia felt as if she was talking too much, but Aurora gave no indication she was bored, only smiling that warm smile that always seemed to grace her delicate features. Occasionally, she would share an odd little story of her own. Celia wondered if this was what it was like to have a friend, someone you could talk to about nothing and everything as time became meaningless numbers.

She laid down, facing the dark sky adorned with thousands of dainty stars. “I should be home now,” Celia sighed, not wanting to leave the little world they had created.

“I must go, too.”

Celia turned to the girl, her friend, feeling as if she’d known her years instead of days.

Her breath caught.

Despite the darkness, Aurora was gilded in a soft, golden aura. The pearlescent outline of something blinked at her back, and it took Celia a moment to recognize them for what they were. Not a trick of light or her imagination.

They were wings.

Beautiful, delicate fairy wings.

“You…” Celia started, but words had left with any rational thought. “I don’t understand.”

“I had to come back to this forest to get my wings. It was my birthplace, you see.”

“Is this real?”

“Of course it’s real.”

“I…will you come back?”

A look of sadness crossed Aurora’s face, telling Celia the answer before she could say the word.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll still be here, even if you don’t see me.”

She was right. As Celia looked around she could see Aurora in the vibrant leaves, the sweet cadence of the bird songs and the soft glow of the twinkling stars. When she looked back at Aurora, the girl – fairy – was gone.

Celia made the lonely trek back to her home, holding onto the presence of magic Aurora had brought to the forest with her. The stars seemed darker, acknowledging the loss.

Then all at once the darkness burst apart. Hundreds of tiny sparks twinkled and twirled around Celia, stars falling from the heavens, warm as the sun. Fairies.

They came in a flurry, dancing on the air and guiding Celia home. She saw the one glowing a little brighter than the others, a little more vibrant and red than the soft surrounding golds.

If this is the end, she thought, it’s the most beautiful one I’ve seen.

The End