Hidden Creatures

By the time Brother returned home, the sun cast an orange glow over the surrounding canopy. Crisp linen was rolled above his elbows and each step with his leather shoes crunched  over the gravel drive.  The unspoken ritual of his day finally began yet he questioned his destination with a soft smile. The tennis courts were vacant. The gazebo stood alone. And only the large oak tree swayed gently in the late spring breeze. He knew he would never have to check inside, yet the only sign of life was the movements of hidden-away creatures in the forestry.

His long stride carried him toward the pond. The gentle sound of splashing water reached his ears before he spotted the source. The way light would settle on her skin reminded him of paintings of heavenly entities. Her skin favored his own, porcelain and freckled. Long slicked back auburn hair trailed down her spine and burned a gold color in the setting sun. Her undergarments clung to her damp, bird-like form. A broad smile stretched over Brother's dimpled face,

“Sister!” He called out from the top of the grassy knoll. Her gray eyes whipped to meet his own; she was still as a statue.

Brother would always neatly fold his clothes before placing them on the safest rock he could find and would always laugh at his Sister's cool white dress that would lay mangled in the moss and mud. He didn’t mind the squishing ground under his feet when he was walking towards her. 

They swam till the sky began to slip from its warm glow to its cool shade. She was unaffected and would carry on as if he never joined her at all. She would only bring her head above the emerald water long enough for the next rationed breath. 

When she finally slunk out of the pond like a siren creeping from its inky depths, she carelessly threw her body onto the damp shore. Brother quickly followed suit. 

They laid bare by that pond. Synced breaths pulled in and out of their rising and falling chests like the lapping of a tide against the shore. The moment was suspended so delicately to him. He studied the curve of her turned-up nose and counted each fair eyelash while she studied the sky. He wondered if the grass tickled the curve of her waist.

“I love you.”

“I know.” Her voice cracked softly. 

Sometimes he would just say things to see how she would navigate the moment. Maybe she would slip and the curtain would fall open for just a moment if he was lucky. A low warm chuckle vibrated his chest. 

“Do you wish to swim again?” Sister's voice could’ve been carried away with the soft breeze. 

“It's much too cold now.” He spoke now propped up on his elbows. Square jaw, wet, red curls, and a roman nose. Most found him excessively handsome despite the wine-colored stains under his eyes. The fine hairs of her belly caught his gaze. 

“Have you been eating well?” When she followed his eyes, her stomach itched from the inside. 

“Cook has been experimenting with sweet rolls.” Sister's slender fingers interlaced over the soft spot of her midriff. 

“Good,” He chirped before falling back to the ground. “I have always liked you softer.” 

He felt quite satisfied with his discovery and decided it was time for a hot meal. Brother stood, stretched, and began gathering his things.

“Return to the house soon Sister, you know the house feels different without a gentle presence,” he began to button his shirt, “maybe we will read tonight,” there was no room for comment, “No, I will have you play for me.” His warm smile was directed at nothing in particular before he marched back towards the house.

She could’ve fallen asleep right then. The cool mud embraced her warmth and there was a feeling of peace in the wild that the indoors would make too stagnant, yet she pushed into the ground and stood anyway. The sound of her Brother whistling a foreign tune receded behind her. She took a step into the water. The shock of the cold tensed the muscles running up her leg. Deep breath. She took another step. The cold stung. When she could no longer hear his whistling she dove into the frigid waters once more. She felt so far from gentle. 

Brother was particular about the texture of his clothes. It took thirty-six different sets of pajamas before he settled on the particular silk and cotton blend that he had donned that night. He had a nightgown made of the same blend for Sister despite her lack of care. A man maintains his house in the details. 

In the parlor, he awaited in the seat adjacent to both the piano and the lit fireplace. Despite the steady crackle of the fire, the room had caught a chill that he had taken to. Brother considered himself a patient man, in fact, Sister often made him practice this virtue for which he treasured her.

Sister entered the dim parlor with quiet bare feet and in the nightgown, he had laid out for her. He wondered if her feet were cold. Without words, she sat before the ivory keys and began to play. She was not the most graced player. She would misstep often, at which Brother would give a low chuckle. He thought of all the money he had spent on her lessons but nodded along just the same. 

The fireplace highlighted the contours of her defined cheeks, nose, and lips. Brother thought she must’ve escaped some lost baroque painting with defined chiaroscuro lasting upon her features. The song ebbed and flowed. Misstep. The notes would crescendo and recede. Misstep. 

However, he found that he could not focus on the broken melody. Her hair was as astray as Persapinas in the wild. What an oblivious girl he mused. Brother reached for the tangled mess. 

Another wrong chord was struck and recovered.

He took a strong grip on the mane at the base of her neck so as not to tug, before brushing his fingers down its length. He found the act almost meditative. By the time the last of the song's notes reverberated into the sound of the last of the burning logs, her hair had been delicately braided down her back. She turned towards Brother silently now that there was no more to play. She waited.

“Sister, it's getting late but I must admit I am finding myself more and more selfish with your time and attention. So soon you will be fumbling over the piano for another man in another home.” He peered heavily into her eyes while he gave a light laugh, “I just hope he is as polite as I am about your playing.” He found a moment to tuck a single rebelling strand behind her ear. She often found no need to respond, so she didn’t. “Well besides… soon he will fill your belly with a baby and you will have to return, so that I may meet my nieces and nephews.” He did lighten at the thought of small red-headed children laughing in the corridors. This was the stagnant air that can only be produced inside she thought. Her belly itched again. 

Her face revealed nothing. He grinned and his voice dropped low. “I will make sure your husband never forgets how lucky he is,” and Sister pondered if a Husband would be anything like Brother.

His gaze narrowed on her tiny face. Brother would have nightmares of a man with broad hands such as his own that would take her face within his grip and just squeeze... Her skull would never be able to tolerate such pressure. She would scream horrifically, any facade she had ever built up would crumble and her body would go limp. 

His thumb brushed the silken side of her cheek and her gaze fluttered shut. He could only feel the warmth between them. 

“I love you.”

“I know.” Soft cracked voice. Her eyes still shut. 

She often felt like a doe sensing another presence in the forest beside her. He came closer. 

Soft familiar lips tenderly rested on her temple. If he could drink in these moments he would. Auburn, braided hair brushed his nose. His lips lowered to whisper a low hum in her ear. 

“Many better men than I wouldn't allow such cruelties, Sister.”

At that moment Brother was so thankful he could rest another night not worrying about his nightmare becoming a reality. She was safe with him.

“Please get some sleep, you will waste away your beauty if you do not.”

Spring brought many rainy mornings. The property would be enveloped in fog, the sky gray, and the trees a deep viridian green. Brother would clasp his cuff links in the early hours of the morning and see the window-framed scene of the showers. He thought of all the mud that might be tracked into the house. He would have to discuss readiness for it with the maids.

On those mornings, Sister saw the property as a vined marsh. Damp and soft earth that was susceptible to any amount of disturbance. Cool, crisp air with floating mist, one might say it was perfect for hiding fairies. She would often sneak away in the mornings, still in her carefully chosen nightgown, still her feet bare. 

She would tiptoe past the other bedrooms, through the kitchen, and out the servant's quarters. The maids would smile knowingly. Sister would race through the yard. Heavy feet found as many puddles to splatter as possible, her arms stretched out to catch the rain, and her lungs burning from the cold air that she would recklessly heave in from the sprint. She would find pools of mud to sink her feet into and smear it up the lengths of her arms. The hazards of the outdoors she found more enjoyable than off-putting. She liked a cut that told a story of a thicket. She liked the brown, green, and purple bruises that came with climbing trees. She liked feeling.

Sister would dance and jump and often she would simply lay. She would lay in a clearing and let the rain wash over her. She would feel the tiny racing of bugs skitter across her ankles and grab at the grass in tight and loose grips with her fingers and toes. Sister never slept much, her body did not let her. Yet this sense of rest was all she felt she needed to sustain her. 

Brother pondered if she knew he could always see her through the window. He wondered if the wood nymph performance was for him. He asked the maids to ready a bath for her and left.

When Brother returned home the rain had been reduced to a scattered drizzle. The sun was bright and high in the sky. The air was steamy and hot. Brother did not have to search long this time, he immediately found her. She still lay on her back, unmoving in the spot he had last seen her in. Her dress was still damp. Mud had dried to a crackle on parts of her limbs while remaining malleable on others. Her hair was tangled and wet, intertwined with the earth around her. Her eyes were open almost painfully staring into the sun. She must’ve heard him approaching yet made no indication of such. 

His nostrils flared. His head began to ache. 

“Stupid girl.” His comment was low and truly not meant for anyone. He kneeled and scooped her up like a child or a corpse. Sister made no effort to comply or resist. Her dress and body were hot to the touch from whatever hours she spent in that spot. Brother was acutely aware of the mud that latched onto his clothes and arms. He stomped towards the house. A string of curses flowed under his breath as burst into this home. Straight up the stairs, to Sister's room, to her bathroom. Still cradled like a babe in his arms he saw the now cold water that lay untouched within the tub. She saw it and laughed. He felt drunk. The room could have been spinning at that moment, he did not know.

He dumped her in the tub. Water flowed over the sides onto the marble floors in a wave that smelled of lye and lavender. She grounded herself with the sides of the tub before she could fall completely under. Grass, dirt, and even a beetle began floating in the stirring waters. She peered up at him through a web of hair. The air was still again. 

“... I will have Cook prepare you a dinner.” The words were strained. 

“I am not hungry.”

The moment swelled in the room almost suffocatingly. Brother kneeled by the tub. He brushed Sister's hair out of her face and held her cheeks. His hands enveloped her features. His hands had not a callous to flaw them. The two sets of similar eyes stared into each other. Thick dark eyebrows knitted together on his forehead and his jaw was sturdily clenched together. She felt his breath on her lips.

“Do you truly think I give a damn?”

Her face was unmoving while his searched tirelessly across her face. A beat passed.

“You have half an hour. Be clean and dressed before I return.” Brother walked away with his heart in his stomach and he was already trying to wipe the mud away from his skin. 

That night they did not play the piano or read. Rather they sat in Sister's room. She was clean and draped in a plush robe. He preferred the smell of soap over the damp earth she had been stained with before.  He sat at her desk while she was perched upon her bed. He watched each steaming spoonful of stew pass strawberry lips down her throat. They sat in silence that night. 

They sat in silence when he braided her wet hair and when he kissed her forward. They sat in silence when he left for bed himself. That night neither sibling slept at all. 

Brother thinks of that night often. He dreams of lovingly cradling his Sister and helping her wash clean of her choices that day. He would help her dress in a soft gown that fluttered delicately around her form and dawn her feet with soft socks. He dreams of feeding her himself like nursing a sick animal. They would laugh with endearment towards one another. He dreams of them falling asleep together on her feather-plush bed, secured in each other's warmth. He ponders if that would have changed anything.

He also thinks of leaving her in the yard. He would let her porcelain skin blister in the sun. Let her grow cold and damp at night. She would likely grow feverish with mucus smeared down her now crusted face and sweat on her brow. He would let her belly sink against her ribs in hunger. He wonders if she would have crawled back to him in the house, curled up in his lap, and wept. He ponders if that would have changed anything. 

Soon after it was just another day. The two siblings returned to routine and Brother even apologized for his rough manner that day and asked for an apology for her careless nature. A man knows how to use his words. Sister said nothing. He embraced her.

 When the weather began to become hot with summer and the gardens were in full bloom, Brother returned home and began his walk. The tennis courts were empty. The gazebo stood alone. The pond sat undisturbed. The field was vacant. Even the oak tree swayed alone. However, something lay nailed to the tree. Leather shoes walked over soft grass as a soft warm breeze tickled the nape of Brother's neck. A large pale hand reached up and grasped soft auburn hair. A singular long braid was nailed into the bark, severed from its owner. Severed from Sister.

She wasn’t in the house. The police found no evidence of a break-in, no violent altercation. “Maybe she just left.” The words echoed in his head and ached in his chest so much he could laugh. They do not understand. She had been safe here. There was only love between them.

 Brother has nightmares of what may have come of her in the world. The men she must’ve met. He knew what they would think of her when they first laid eyes on his beautiful, idiotic, and naive Sister. He knew what they would like to do to her and what she would have no strength to stop. He dreams of walking down the street and not recognizing a broken, dirty, and full of regret woman who had no spark of what his Sister was to him. Maybe a man charmed her right from under him. What sweet nothings a villain of a man must have whispered, hot against her small ears. How scared she must have been to leave.

Since then Brother still returns home the same. He wanders the property much like a ghost might wander a grave. People wonder if it's out of respect or out of habit. He sits in the parlor by the piano or reads many of the same books they used to read together. He eats all the same meals and spends many of his afternoons now outside where she used to exist. He never says much to anyone anymore and the maids do not dare to whisper about the women he sometimes brings to his Sister's now abandoned room. 

But like a good Brother and a good man, he still waits. He waits for Sister to return. He will deal with the reality whatever it may be and nurture her back to what she used to be. Brother knows he will forgive Sister whenever she comes back.