The Story of a Lifetime

The whole town waited just beyond the dark line of half-dead trees that marked the edge of the Forbidden Forest. They had all heard the stories, some of them even daring to read for themselves. A series of novels written hundreds of years ago told the story of witches and wizards attending school at a magical castle full of mystery, adventure, and death, all to have supposedly taken place right where our small town currently stood. The castle was long gone but the eerie and expansive forest remained, the only clue that perhaps the stories weren’t fiction after all. People liked to downplay the rumors of the forest, yet no one dared set foot beyond the tree line, until the day my mother went barreling headfirst into it without a second glance back at her own mother calling after her.

           She was only nineteen at the time and the family dog, a small black pug named Pepper, had chewed through the leash that tied him to his post in the front yard. Mother had watched it all happen from her usual morning perch on the front porch, with me in my bassinet next to her, only an infant. She had taken to sipping tea and staring off into the forest, daydreaming about the possibilities of magic within while the trees swayed in the early morning breeze. Their whispers wrapped around her like a protective blanket. She had always said the forest called to her, never feeling the cold creepiness the rest of her town seemed to experience.

           So when Pepper successfully snapped the line that held him captive and beelined it for the edge of the trees, Mother felt no hesitation and took off running after him.

           “Pepper!” she called out. Everyone came running outside in robes and slippers, irritated at the racket this early on a weekend. “Pepper, wait! No! Come back! Come, I said!” As they reached the line of trees and disappeared into the darkness beyond, her calls and Pepper’s happy barks were instantly muted.

           The neighbors looked at one another with fear from their porches, bed head and dried drool galore. The silence pressed in from all angles until Grandmother let out a piercing scream and collapsed in a puddle of her fluffy white bathrobe. Neighbors ran over to comfort and hold her and the baby in turn, knowing there was nothing more they could do to help but hope.

           Hours passed and neighbors came and went offering food and wine, but Grandmother sat right where she was on the porch, waiting for her daughter to return. She rocked me back and forth, breathing deep and never once taking her eyes off the trees.

           Just as the heat of the day disappeared and dusk began to fall, a happy yip pulled Grandmother out of her reverie. Pepper came running up the front steps, licking her face and hands as she struggled to pull herself up to standing. She shouted for help, knowing her daughter shouldn’t be far behind, hope beginning to swell in her chest. If Pepper had returned, so would Mother. The town came running and stood quietly with Grandmother, staring into the darkness. No one dared say a word for fear of jinxing the safe return of one of their own.

           Movement at the edge of the forest brought a collective gasp from the crowd. Mother stepped out of the trees and stopped abruptly, taking in the group staring back at her, her face expressionless. Grandmother shrieked again, this time in relief and joy that her baby was in one piece, and handed me to a neighbor, taking off down the steps into the field towards her.

           As Grandmother ran as fast as her legs could carry her towards her only child, Mother took calm, purposeful strides up the grassy hill back home. Her blue eyes were wide, but no emotion lay behind them. She simply appeared to be staring deeply ahead with no recognition of her surroundings. Grandmother reached to embrace her daughter, but Mother held out a firm hand to stop her.

           “I am fine, Mother,” she said, in a voice so cold it raised the hairs on Grandmother’s arms. “I just need a warm shower and something to eat.” She took a step around her mother and continued her solemn walk up the hill into the house, the screen door clanking shut behind her.

           Grandmother watched her go, dread and fear seeping out of every pore. “Something isn’t right,” she thought aloud, following her daughter into the house.

           Mother never regained the light in her eyes but continued to live an otherwise normal life. She never spoke about what happened in the Forbidden Forest in the hours she was missing but also never set foot there again. It would be another twenty years until someone could unravel that complicated tapestry, the first thread of which came loose when I was born with the same cold blue eyes, devoid of emotion….

“Bethany!”

Her mother’s sharp tone startled her back to the present and she snapped the worn leather book shut. She scrambled for a place to hide it, hearing her mother’s footsteps nearing her hiding spot in the dusty attic. She had just slipped it under a thin white sheet when the trapdoor creaked open, her mother’s muted blue eyes appearing at her feet.

“What, Mom?” she asked innocently.

“What are you doing up here?” her mother shot back, answering a question with a question. “I would have thought you’d be unpacking in your new room.”

“I wanted to see what was up here,” Bethany shrugged.

“Anything interesting?”

“Not really.” She tried not to glance at the sheet.

“Great, then come back downstairs before we have to find the local hospital and get you a tetanus shot.”

“Okay, Mom, I’m coming down.”

Her mother backed slowly down the ladder and Bethany snatched the journal from its hiding place, tucking it under her shirt. There was more to this story, she was sure of it. And something about it seemed vaguely familiar, like a dream or a story someone had told her once long ago.

Her mother watched her like a hawk for the rest of the evening. Bethany raced through dinner and gave a quick “thanks Mom!” over her shoulder before shutting herself in her still-bare bedroom. The story she had started was the only thing on her mind.

She flopped down on her new mattress, crinkling the plastic wrapping she had yet to cut off. They’d had to buy everything brand new in their haste to leave, something that was fun the first time or two but was getting to be a drag after these many years on the run.

Bethany had lost sight of what exactly they were running from, but she had a funny feeling this book was about to fill in some of those gaps for her. She pulled the tattered book from under the mattress and flipped to the final entry to confirm her theory...

If I ever have a daughter, I vow to tell her the whole truth behind the family’s curse. Mother waited far too long to tell me these so-called stories were in fact the reason for our life of exile.

Did she not think I deserved to know that her icy blue eyes were wiping my memory each and every day?

Did she not think I should know that my own dull eyes, inherited directly from her, would do the same to anyone I made eye contact with?

Imagine my confusion all these years, agonizing over my inability to make friends or hold a guy’s attention, the frustration from our frequent moves, all of it easily explained.

But perhaps she has. Perhaps she has more than once.

I am a captive of my own body and the only person who can save me is me.

The last word is nearly illegible, drowned by a drop of water or maybe a tear as the author came to terms with her own fate.

Bethany gulped as the realization sunk in.

This was her journal, her story.

How long did she have before she was back to the first page? The thought made her heart pound in her chest. Her head swam.

Her mother’s footsteps made their way down the hallway toward her bedroom. She made no attempts to hide the book this time, her eyes remaining locked on its cover as her door opened slowly, carefully.

“Bethany?” her mother called gently.

“You can come in, Mom,” she sighed. “I think we need to talk.”