Here Lies Love

by Dan Thompson

  Firefly.

  If only she could slice it all off.

  To Abbey’s surprise, the manifold of ferns that spread out like a legion, offered up its fruits. A multitude of yellow berries, triangular in shape, hung from the leathery leaves. Abbey brushed her hands against them, teased by their offering. Abbey was too ravenous to deny the food, and in a gluttonous rage, plucked handfuls of them into her mouth.

  The berries had such soft skin. They popped tart, sour juices as she rolled her tongue over the dozens she had shovelled into her mouth all at once. A delicious explosion brought alive her taste buds that pushed her sense of taste to new, unfound levels. Abbey brushed away the juices that dribbled over her chin and happily grabbed for more.

  Reasonably satisfied that a small amount of food had settled nicely in her stomach, Abbey ventured into the wilderness.

  The landscape didn’t change at all, no matter how far she went. It was as if she was walking on a rolling ground of soil and earth and moss. The plethora of fruit bearing bushes kept Abbey picking and plucking at them continually. The land remained flat and constant, dry and grainy. As much as Abbey wanted to act out her revenge, her mind began to bore. She was certain that if she shut her heavy eyes, she would fall asleep upright, still walking onwards. She also, after some time, grew tired of the triangular berries. They started to make her feel sick; perhaps a little too sweet. A dull tingle-like sensation not so much pained, but rather throbbed through her teeth. It was an odd feeling, not realising that her teeth could feel at all. She wasn’t entirely sure if a pip or two hadn’t become lodged in between her teeth too.

  Abbey tried scratting at them, but the taste of her fingers in her mouth made her gag, and before long, Abbey grew more and more frustrated at the monotony of the land ahead. While her obsession was still there, Abbey realised that the actual trek home was considerably more than she had anticipated. Of course, she hadn’t expected to have blinked and arrived at her lighthouse, but the distance involved was confusing her.

  Surely I didn’t walk as far as this with Stefan.

  The more Abbey tried to think back, the more she couldn’t remember. It was odd. Why couldn’t she recall the journey to the city? She could recollect making the walk, but it didn’t register as a slog at all, and even now the details seemed unfamiliar and imprecise, vague even.

  She shook her head in disbelief.

  Had she been drugged? Before even leaving home?

  The nonsensical idea seemed ludicrous. How would she have walked all this way, befuddled and inattentive? Although, she wouldn’t put it past Stefan to be capable of such things. He was clearly capable of even more evil than that. But as she began to think about it more, maybe she remembered being told to drink some tea before they left by her father. She wiped her eyes, trying to clear her head. It felt like she was implanting events in her own head now, unsure of what actually happened.

  It was giving her a headache. Abbey needed to rest, so she slumped to the arid ground, positioned her legs out straight and looked up into the sky. Clouds signified rain, and with the blue haze behaving strangely, the abnormal curved billows were much clearer than she’d ever seen them. Their movements were rapid and smooth, gliding in the air; a vessel in the expanse firmament. The sky had never looked more blue, but a natural azure blue. There was clearly something not right with the blue haze. Maybe the power source behind it was failing? Although, Abbey reproached herself, telling herself that it would become unlit if the blue haze went off.

  Then why was the sky changing, getting brighter, like someone up above had lit a flame?

  Abbey’s mind was a hive of questioning and activity. It wasn’t long before she gave into the approaching fatigue and her eyes closed, sleep touching her somnolent, overactive mind.

  Abbey opened her eyes, and for a second lost the ability to breathe. Her body was paralysed. She couldn’t move her head, her arms, her legs. Only the incessant blinking of her eyes gave away the desperation in her head. Her lungs felt crushed, hit by a lead weight. As she tried to gasp more and more, take in oxygen to make everything alright again, she heard the whine in her throat. An invisible hand crushing her oesophagus.

  Seconds passed. Tears slipped over her lower eyelids as she panicked. No matter how much she concentrated, her body refused to acknowledge her paralysis. All she could see was the swirling sky. Grey and black unwelcoming clouds struck one another and swelled to new heights. They appeared angry and harsh, like the waves that crashed and battered the shoreline alongside her lighthouse. Death was approaching, the neverworld cascading and pouring and surging into her own domain, threatening to wipe out humankind forever. The crash of thunder scared Abbey and the more she suffocated, the more her body pained.

  Through no effort of her own, her body fitted, rolling around on the ground like the old enemy of the wind had come back to claim her. Her chest caved in and spurted out in awkward angles, and yet she remained conscious throughout. The clouds swelled to monstrous proportions, sinking into the atmosphere, falling towards the girl on the ground. Abbey was powerless to stop it and as it neared to mere inches away, her head exploded.

  Abbey shot awake. Her breathing was noisy and exaggerated and she pulled her hands up to her throat, rolling over and heaved. The sudden rush of oxygen made her lightheaded and disillusioned. Abbey no longer knew what was reality and what was a nightmare.

  She brusquely shot her gaze to the sky. Abbey was relieved to see it was a clear night’s sky. Not even a wisp of a cloud floated over. Globules of sweat felt thick on her forehead, but the chill air was cool and comforting. Abbey lolled back on the ground and at first gawked at nothing in particular, allowing her spinning head to relax, and then took notice in the tiny gems that glistened in the charcoal sky.

  The world seemed changed. Where was the blue haze?

  Brilliant constellations of stars appeared before her. Abbey chewed delicately on her lip and watched romantically as the heavens became alive. Abbey placed her hands on her chest, allowing them to rise and fall in time with her breathing. A change was coming; a revolution was already apparent in the atmosphere that seemed warmer. Hope; a funny transient desire, never answered Abbey’s prayers. Yet, in the stillness of the night, Abbey felt its presence. Their world was secular to a higher consciousness, and still Abbey was overwhelmed.

  Maybe it was supernatural, her gran, perhaps, or maybe it was Abbey herself, suddenly transcending her adolescence and gaining a greater awareness of the fundamental growth within. Her soul had endured so much. Pain had been a constant perdition; a raging inferno inside of an ever expanding abyss. And now, the seal of her psyche had unlocked. She had passed the test of inner strength. Her prize, a magical firework display of stars being born again.

  On cue, the brightest moon she’d ever witnessed emerged. Her eyes grew wide and her heart thumped in anticipation. Everything was so beautiful and colourful. A miracle was occurring right before her. Abbey wondered if she was the sole audience to its magnificence. Her drab, sad world was fighting back. Hope was returning and it had touched Abbey with the softest of touches that left her with reverence. Emotion was welling up inside her, ready to come crashing out, expelling with it, all the pent up rage and anger and bitterness.

  Abbey closed her eyes and held on, refusing for it to wash away. She still had need for the negativities. A change may be coming, but her father wasn’t to see it. He mustn’t. He tore up his ticket for happiness when he turned his back on her. Rewarding him with eternal bliss was foolish and wrong. Bad people sowed seeds of poison and now he would reap the malice himself.

  No longer hungry, Abbey had walked on and on towards the horizon. It was her only guide towards the coast. She had had no more food than the berries she consumed earlier, but sensing her destiny ahead, starvation ceased to be a malady for her. Malaise and fatigue were old enemies.

  The network of stars that still shone above lit up the ground for her to find her way. A few buck rabbits had fled into their
warrens and a flutter in some of the leafless trees animated the trek somewhat. Whether they were black egrets or albino crows, Abbey remained apathetic.

  It wasn’t until a shrill snort and whinny echoed in front of her that her attention piqued. Behind a large evergreen, the animal stomped loudly and rowdily so as it put her off. The thought to find another route entered her brain for a second before she quickly expelled her worries. If she remained cautious, and remained in control of the situation, she would be able to continue on.

  At first, Abbey tried peeking through the rubbery verdures, but the twigs and branches hidden inside made too much noise and whatever animal it was, it whickered. She couldn’t be sure, but Abbey got the impression that the animal was scared.

  Doing what felt comfortable, Abbey pulled her hands inside her jumper’s white sleeves and inhaled deeply. 1, 2, 3 … Abbey counted to ten in her head before sidestepping around the bush. To her surprise, a coal-black colt shook its head, entangled in a vine-like tree. It was strangling the creature as it tried to free itself. Abbey approached. The horse’s eyes froze, as did its body. The flight or fight response was clearly being processed, but because it was stuck, flight was untenable.

  The horse had a nervous twitch, which Abbey understood. She admired its beauty, its strong hind legs and curved body. From the window in her lighthouse, Abbey had watched many times, wild horses running free along the sandy shoreline. This colt however, was her first encounter up close. Another step closer and the horse bucked wildly, entangling itself further.

  “Whoa, whoa, shhhhh,” Abbey hushed, her arms outstretched. She knew not to move around the horse’s hind legs. A sudden bolt and kick to the stomach wasn’t something she’d enjoy. The horse wasn’t as emaciated as some of the animals she had witnessed; it clearly had a steady food source. He appeared relatively healthy.

  Abbey shushed again. Within touching distance, Abbey hesitated and looked into its eyes. She could see her own reflection in its glassiness, although the image was distorted. Abbey placed her outstretched palm onto the horse. The feel of its forelock was warm and soft. Smoothing further down, Abbey could feel the strength of its ribs too. Its breathing was erratic though. Abbey exhaled slowly, but loudly in an attempt to try and calm the horse.

  The horse sprung in desperation once more, and Abbey took great strides back to avoid a collision. The tree made mocking whipping noises as it held on tight, and Abbey took great pity in the horse’s frantic neighs. A brown satchel caught her eye though as the animal bucked again and again. It had somehow slipped over the horse’s neck. What is someone’s bag doing there? Abbey asked herself.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” she said softly, reaching for the bag. It was made of quality leather. Carefully unravelling the buckle, Abbey reached inside, not taking her eye off the horse in case it lashed about again. Her hand fumbled from corner to corner, until she hit a metal object. Swiping it from the bag in one quick movement, Abbey eyed the rusting dagger.

  And that was when it struck her. This horse was clearly domesticated somewhat, and belonged to a rider. Whoever the rider was, he wasn’t there now and the chance for Abbey to gain some distance on the journey was too good to ignore. The horse wasn’t wearing any reins, which could make matters difficult, so Abbey decided to get onto the back swiftly. If the horse thrashed once more, she could grab on tightly to its neck and short mane.

  Psyching herself up felt abnormal. “Ok,” she said, swallowing her nervousness, “let’s do it.”

  Abbey leaped up and mounted the horse and threw one leg over the other side. The colt did whinny as if in pain and swung its neck around, but as Abbey hung on, the horse eventually quietened down. Keeping her body close to the contours of the horse’s neck, Abbey shimmied her body upwards and sliced the vines with the dagger. At first the colt didn’t seem to realise he was now liberated from their wire-like hold, but before long it backed away from the tree and snorted continuously. Its immaturity came through when it bounced on its feet, treating the tree like a rival male. Its antagonising and semi-charges were pointless, and unsure of how to handle it, Abbey knew if she got off, she wouldn’t have another chance to get back on. She let him carry out the charade until it bored.

  She had been right in assuming that the black colt had been ridden before, as it trotted forwards no longer bothered by her being on its back. The lack of a saddle gave her some pains, but it was a necessary soreness when compared to how battered her feet would have been with walking the entire distance. Abbey had no instruction or past experience to call on when directing the horse, but she used her initiative and gripped her thighs into its sides. After a little practice, she managed to come up with her own steering system that seemed to work. This independence thing wasn’t so bad after all. If Tristan had been here, he would without a doubt have taken control, probably smug with all kinds of equestrian related methods. Always doubting herself was a misgiving she regretted.

  She was making up for it now.

  The colt made a sudden dash, as if it was showing off to his full potential. The jerk took Abbey by surprise and somewhere in between realising what was going on and grasping for leverage, she dropped the dagger. She swung her head behind to see where it landed, but it was no use. It was gone. It may have been fortuitous that it was there in the first place, but she knew she would need something to protect herself with when she approached her home. For surely, her father wouldn’t be happy to see her, not after she revealed that she knew everything. His dirty, dishonest scheme may have fooled her then, but not now. She knew better.

  Chapter Thirteen. Daddy’s Little Girl

  The tang of salt in the air filled Abbey with comfort. It was a smell she had temporarily forgotten, but now, being back, it was a guilty pleasure. The brackish water foamed with rough darkened blue waves rising and falling, crashing into each other like a tempest was on the way. Abbey knew that the sea was always like that. Sat upon the still horse, Abbey peered out into the expanse of water. As a little girl, she had always wondered what was out there in the distance; dreams of fairy tale fantasies, a kingdom of purity patiently waiting for her arrival.

  The lighthouse was in the distance. She could make out the dirty whiteness of its top. The colt had been a quiet travel companion. The road had been a lonely journey, with not one person along the way. Although, Abbey was thankful for the solidarity she shared with the horse. Abbey truly believed that her fate had been preordained. With no markings or signs, she had found her home with relative ease. She couldn’t possibly say how, but after reaching the coast, she turned the horse and followed it up.

  Behind her home, the distinct clay rocks formed hills as steep as mountains. The moss on the ground was grey-green and an indigo fog swept over the sandy path like resting ghosts. Nothing had changed since her departure. It was as if time had stood still, keeping everything preserved and the way it was, ready for her return.

  Yet, Abbey still remained calm and focused.

  During her journey from the city to the coast, the blue haze was anything but consistent. Abbey had no idea what was going on. It flickered for periods, before fully resuming its place in the sky. Abbey was reminded of Ryan’s fit and she couldn’t help but think about the two boys now. Perhaps she had been a little harsh where Tristan had been concerned, but deep down inside of her, where her humility still lingered, Abbey hoped that the ever-changing haze was kind to Ryan. Witnessing his epileptic fit first hand was a scary ordeal and despite how things ended, she didn’t wish the stress of resuscitating Ryan on Tristan.

  The lighthouse was waiting for her. Abbey took deep breaths.

  Scooting her leg over, Abbey dismounted the horse. Placing a palm over its body, she petted it and stroked down its muzzle.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Abbey nuzzled her face against the horse. A companionship had been formed since their short connection. She would miss it.

  Abbey gently slapped the horse’s trunk. “Hiyah!” The horse grunted, before
cantering off along the rocky rise and onto the land beyond. Bye. Abbey watched solemnly a while, knowing that by tomorrow, she would be free, just like the colt. She was cutting herself loose from the reins that kept her a bounden slave.

  Tucking her hair behind her ears, Abbey turned and fixated upon the lighthouse, before steadily walking towards it. With the reliable crash of the waves, Abbey didn’t need to be consciously discreet with her footsteps, but she remained soft on her soles in case her father was somewhere near. A slender zephyr rolled in and kicked the fog up higher. Even nature was on her side, swaddling her in its embrace and concealing her advent.

  Abbey peered into the window. It looked in on their kitchenette, a fire crackling in the corner. The condensation of her breath frosted the window like dry ice before, just as quickly disappearing altogether. Abbey’s father was sat on a stool, his back to her, cleaning the muck from his boots. The filth crumbled like grain onto the kitchenette floor, and old habits sunk into Abbey’s mind. The amount of times she would have to sweep up the mud from the floor was countless. She continued to watch him, until he tossed the boots to one side and warmed his hands in front of the fire.

  The urge to confront him there and then was strong. The desire to take his life had consumed Abbey ever since her rooftop epiphany, and yet, she hadn’t thought about what she would say to him. The act of it was ever consuming, but her brain now demanded an explanation. Surely he owed her that? She knew she couldn’t simply walk through the front door though; acting as if nothing had happened. No. She needed to take him by surprise, keep the upper hand and not give him a chance to create an advantage for himself. As much as she resented admitting it, Abbey was still a slight woman in comparison to her father. If it came to a one-on-one brawl, he would clearly suppress her attempts.