Tristessa's Story, Part 8

This is the final chapter in a series of 8 posts. I hope you've enjoyed the others. -m

My mother was so weak she couldn't stand on her own, so Ambreel and Ravigie picked her up by the arms and carried her into the house. 

The imaginary children followed me like puppies, their eyes trained on me as though they were afraid I'd leave them.  They made me uncomfortable.  Such wide, scared eyes.  And such blank features. 

I didn't even have enough imagination to give them faces, I thought without much amusement.  But even as I thought it, the children's faces grew even more interesting with different sized noses, freckles, acne... any little thing I could think of to distinguish them, I planted it on their faces.  When I was satisfied, I pulled away from them, feeling faint.

Mama was lying on the couch, and Ambreel was brushing the hair away from her forehead in a way that made me feel like an intruder.  I wanted to go to her, but I felt suddenly shy.  She had not even called to me, so I stayed where I was, waiting.  Ravigie came in then carrying a tray with a bowl of hot water, a towel, and a glass of goat's milk.  I don't know where she found the water, but I remember feeling very angry with her for wasting it on a towel.

"Feliciterra, can you hear me?" Ambreel whispered into her ear.

Mama's eyes were closed, but she swallowed and nodded her head.  Her mouth worked for a little bit, like she was practicing words with her lips still closed.  Ravigie set the tray down and began to wet the rag, but my mother didn't look at Ravigie or Ambreel when she opened her eyes.  She looked at me.

"Tristessa," my mother whispered hoarsely.  Ambreel turned and beckoned to me, so I went to them.  My mother touched my hair and tried to smile.

"You released me," she said, finally succeeding in her smile.

I looked at Ambreel, eyebrows raised.

"It's true," Mama said.  "Thank you for putting on the necklace."

"I'm confused," I said.  "What did I do?"  I reached up and touched the cool stones of the necklace.  They felt like droplets of cold water on my hand.  I smirked, wishing I was touching real water, so I could drink it.

And then, suddenly, I was. 

My hands were wet, the floor was wet, everything was a flood of water.  It was coming out of the necklace.  My mother smiled at me through the torrent.  As every wave of the water hit her, a bruise seemed to be washed away.  Soon there was so much water, so many waves of rushing water, that I closed my eyes and turned my head away. 

Ambreel stood strong through the deluge, his arms around Mama, keeping her safe.  Ravigie was gone, and I was thrown against the wall, drinking it all in.  The water was blue with my electricity, and I didn't want it to stop, but then my mother put out her hand.

"Fermati!"  she yelled.  The waters heard her and stopped their throws.  Her black hair was like a shining blanket over her shoulders, and her smiling cheeks were pink and wet.  No more bruises, no more weakness.  She stood on her own and came to me, giving me the biggest hug I'd ever had, and have ever had since then.

"Oh, Tessa.  My girl.  Thank you for bringing the water back," she said into my hair.  "Thank you."

Ambreel's hand was on my shoulder, a warm connection to the real world.  He knew I didn't understand.  He knew I didn't know what was happening.  "She is the land, and you are the rain," he said. 

Like that explained anything.

But then, just as I realized that Ravigie and the children were all gone, I remembered a day when I was flying over everything, and my mother was with me, and the land below us was green with life. I looked around me with new eyes, and I could feel the weight of the necklace my mother had given me as it hung around my neck.  I knew in that moment that I had almost killed everyone in the world, depriving them of water while I mourned my missing mother.

Ambreel squeezed my arm.  "I didn't think you'd believe me if I'd told you.  You didn't even remember your magic," he said to me.  It almost sounded like an excuse, but it was so true that I couldn't deny him. 

"Mama, can we fly again?" I asked.  It was the only thing I wanted to do.  I didn't want to think about what I had done.  I didn't want to think about Ravigie and the children.  So my mother and I left Ambreel standing on the green hill around the house, squinting up into the sun at us as we flew over the hills, my mother checking her land, me making sure that the rain fell on everyone and everything.

Sometimes I think about that day and I wonder: How much of any of my life has been real?

I suppose I'll never know.

Tristessa's Story, Part 5

Follow Tristessa through her mother's disappearance, bullying, and the mysterious appearance of the shadow-man in Parts 1, 2, 3 and 4. Satisfaction guaranteed! -m

I couldn't stop thinking about Ambreel-the-shadow-man, as I called him in my head. I began to imagine conversations with him while I was doing my chores. And then I imagined that he brought friends with him, children I might have known while living between the stone buildings in my life with my mother.

I loved imagining the children.  They were sweet and helpful and aided me in sweeping the floor and cleaning out the chicken coop, and they talked about nice things like hot baths and clean toes and dresses that fit instead of hanging on my skin and bones.  Every day I thought of them, they grew clearer in my mind, even gaining personalities and quirks.  I loved the feeling of creating something so useful, and I relished the feeling of electric power I had whenever I was talking to them.

Ambreel was a gentleman and walked with me around the perimeter of the house after Ravigie decided I was allowed to venture there.

"How are you today, Ambreel?" I asked.

"I'm just fine, Tristessa Dellatierre," he said, using my first and last names, which I had almost forgotten existed.

Thinking of that, I asked, "Do you know my other names? I know there are others."

Ambreel shrugged his shadowed shoulders and I felt electricity tickle my palms. "I am in your imagination, Tristessa. You'll have to remember your other names for yourself."

"Thank you, Ambreel," I said. Turning the corner, I almost ran into Ravigie.

"Who are you talking to?" she asked forcefully. The smoke fled to the corners of my vision and the power stopped tingling in my fingers.

"Nobody," I said truthfully. I was talking to shadows and my own imagination.

Ravigie sniffed as though smelling the air and kept her nostrils wide. "You're lying," she said. "I can feel his magic. Where is he hiding?" she added, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards her. I had to stand on my tiptoes so that her vise grip wouldn't break my arm off.

"Who?" I asked as innocently as I could manage.

"Don't toy with me, child. I know his scent and I've heard you talking to him this past sennight. I will not be lied to. Now where is he?"

"He's nowhere," I said. The feeling was gone in my left arm and my calves were burning from standing so tall. "I just pretend to talk to him."

Ravigie looked at me with horror in her eyes. Without another word she dropped my arm to grab my hand. It stung as blood flowed back into the veins. The old woman held my hand up, holding her thumb in the center of my palm and pressing hard.

"Ow," I said. "What are you doing?"

"You're marked," Ravigie said, giving back my hand. I rubbed it and held it safe against my stomach.

"I don't understand," I said, knowing that she meant she could see the designs on my palms.

Ravigie looked at me shrewdly. "Don't use that magic to do anything stupid," she said. Just when I was about to ask another question, she walked away. Like she had told me not to forget to milk the goat. Like what she had just said was the simplest thing.

I cleared my throat and swallowed, letting her leave without a fight. When she was back in the house, I looked down at my hands. Magic? As I looked up again, my eyes drifted over the form of the brown paper package, which was still on the kitchen table. It made me think of the courier who had looked at me with fear, backing away before I had even had time to say hello.

Resolution flooded my mind. If I had magic, then I had power. And if I had power...no one could stop me.

Tristessa's Story, Part 3

Be sure to check out Parts 1 and 2... Tristessa's story begins there. -m


In the days after I threw the egg at the boy, Ravigie refused to speak to me. She was so angry with me for throwing our last egg that she didn't even make me toast for breakfast. She set a cup in front of me, which I had to fill with milk myself. The well was dry; we were lucky that the goat was still alive.

The yard in front of the coop smelled strange, close to something like rotten eggs. Every time I walked past it I held my breath, and soon it became a sort of game to me. In a week I became very good at holding my breath for no reason in particular.

It was at the end of that week that the package arrived. The courier was dirty, sweaty, and smelled worse than I did. But his clothes had once been very fine, and even though he looked ready to collapse, he held his head as high as a prized stallion did during a parade. Ravigie met him at the corner of the property, a little ways away from where the garden of eggs had popped up. I stayed out of sight, watching and listening.

"I have a package for Ravigie," he said. "There's no last name."

"I don't have a last name," Ravigie said, holding her hand out for the brown paper-wrapped thing.

The man held on to it just a second longer. "You are Ravigie?" Disbelief was bright in his voice. He obviously had been led to believe that Ravigie would be housekeeper to some grand woman.

"The only one," she said. "Give it to me, boy." She glared at him so strongly that immediately he handed it over. Ravigie took it and tucked in under her arm, clamped beneath her armpit. "Well?"

The man looked like he was about to say something about being called "boy", but he wisely thought better of it and took a couple of steps backwards instead.

I don't know why, but I chose that moment to come out of hiding. The man jumped when he saw me. I started to smile, to try to clear his mind of worry, but it was too late. His mouth gaped and he staggered backwards, fingers splayed open as though searching for a handhold.

"You..." But he wasn't looking at me anymore, he was looking somewhere behind me. I turned around, curious. Just on my peripheral vision, I saw the flicker of something dark. Trying to follow it, the shadow stayed on the edge of everything, but it took on the form of what could have been a man, or the reflection of a man.

"Me?" I asked once I had faced him again.

He shook his head, turned on his heel, and ran away.

Ravigie came to stand near me, putting her hand on my shoulder and shifting the package under her arm. "Come inside, Tessa."

"Why?" I was looking after the running package-carrier, watching his heels kick up dry dirt clods as he ran back to town.

"Just come," she said, pulling me towards the door. She, too, was looking at something behind me. Looking again, the shadow became only more distorted, seeming to be obscured by smoke. It was certainly the form of a man, but I couldn't see his face.

I shook my head, trying to clear my eyes for another look. "There's someone there, Ravigie," I said, pointing. She didn't respond, but she did pull me swiftly into the house.

The old woman put the package on the table in the kitchen, then sat down on a chair and put her face in her hands. I waited silently for a minute before she lifted her head again.

"I don't want you to go outside for the rest of the week, Tristessa." When I didn't respond, she went on: "And don't touch this package."

I opened my mouth to protest, but Ravigie pushed herself up and walked through the back door to the garden, leaving me in the kitchen. I stared at the crinkled brown paper wrapped around the courier's delivery. It was the first time I had a chance to really inspect it.

The wrapping job was haphazard and sloppily tied with several loops of dirt-caked brown twine. All in all, I believe it was about the size and shape of a dinner plate, and floppy, not like a wrapped box. And I wasn't allowed to open it. After sighing once, I poked it. The paper crinkled and stayed pressed in where my finger had been, a clean smudge on the brown surface. I looked at my finger; it was covered with dust. Wiping in on my skirt, I sat in the chair and stared at the package, thinking about the garden of eggs and the shadows that were flickering at the edge of my vision.

Tristessa's Story, Part 1

My name is Tristessa Rincressa Potenta Dellatiere. There is a father somewhere in my past, but he was not there long enough to assist in naming me. My mother's name is Umi and when she disappeared I was sent to a farm. Whenever I tell my story, some kind-meaning stranger asks me where the farm was. I can never answer them. Perhaps it was in Italia, where I am told I was born. Or Espagna. I only know that one moment I was living between the still stone bodies of houses bordered by cobblestone streets, and the next I was at the farm, pulling myself up out of the mud.

Mud can be soothing if you approach it in the right way, but this mud had children all around it, and they were taunting me. "She has evil in her eyes!" they were yelling. One of them threw a stone and it hit me just above my eyebrow. I looked up, blinking blood out of my eyelashes. "They are even blacker than a pit!" I tried to speak, but something caught the words in my throat and strangled them into silence. "Dirty eyes!"

Just then a plump woman with a soiled apron attached to her dress came bustling out of a house behind me. She was not the farmwife, but a servant or housekeeper of sorts. "Stop! Stop this now! Shoo! Away!" She fluttered her apron at the children and they ran away, squealing like pigs. "Tessa?" she whispered then. It was the first time anyone had called me that, and I did not know at first that she was talking to me.


"Tessa? You are bleeding!" she said. I looked up at her with my one blood-free eye. Vomit rose in my throat and somehow I kept it back.


"I don't know you," I said. "Who are you?"


The woman looked very sad all at once, but soon her face was wiped clean and replaced with a solid half-smile. "I am Ravigie. I care for you."


My head rolled backwards and the bile rose again. "I'm going to throw up on you, Ravigie," I said, choking. She grabbed my arms carefully and pulled me up so I was kneeling.


"I'll hold your hair," Ravigie said. My hair was already caked with mud and she really didn't have to hold it back. My stomach heaved and my entire body shuddered as my stomach emptied itself of the little amount of food that I had actually eaten an hour before. Ravigie rubbed my back with her fingertips and whispered soft shushing noises while I heaved and hurled and expelled.


Ten minutes later I was laying on my back in the dirt, wiping my mouth with a wet bit of rag that Ravigie had brought out from the kitchen. She grabbed a shovel from the side of the house and turned over the mud and dirt so that my pile of waste was covered out of sight.


It was only then that I cried a little, and it was the last time I would ever let myself cry for real.