Mandalay May didn't believe in things like magic or fairies. Well, to be completely honest she used to enjoy such things, dare I say she even believed in them. But nowadays, she was far too old for those sorts of things. Or at least she thought of herself much too old for believing in such childish whimseys. She was ten years old after all, and to Mandalay, that was very old.
She had become wiser within the past few years, five years to be exact. And in a few days would mark the five-year anniversary of the death of Mandalay May's mother. This is what had made Mandalay feel very old.
Being the only child, Mandalay was now the woman of the house. And being the woman of the house meant that Mandalay had to be strong like her mother had been. She had to be strong for her father. Whom upon the passing of her mother had drowned himself in his work.
She didn't want to become wiser, but she felt she had to. This is how the world was, or so she heard. The good die young, they all say.
This is another reason to become wise, Mandalay had thought to herself. As much as she hated to admit it, she feared death but fearing death was a natural human response.
One could not thwart death. But perhaps she would trick it. Mandalay had no other choice than to wise up. If she grew wise before growing old, perhaps she would not meet the same fate as her mother, who was forever a child at heart.
Her mother was a free spirit, a gypsy of sorts, a cohort of magic, a patron of belief.
Some of the townsfolks even called her mother a witch. Not that being called a witch is a bad thing. Other women called her mother much crueler words. But being called a witch is something her mother had taken pride in. She took ownership of the word and often dressed the part. This is what made people find her mother and by affiliation Mandalay May very strange.
Mandalay's mother filled her daughter's head with stories of fairies and ghosts. Her father did not believe in that kind of thing but would monetize off of them through literary means. But her mother, well, she believed in everything, she believed anything was possible. But wasn't believing in everything the same as believing in nothing at all?
That, to Mandalay, was very foolish.
Her mother was foolish, she thought to herself. It was a cruel thing to think, but to Mandalay, her mother was foolish for dying.
Mandalay was afraid that this foolishness had driven her mother mad, and might, in turn, drive her mad too since she was very much her mother's daughter. Mandalay didn't know if madness was contagious, but if anything was possible, it was probably hereditary. Everyone in town would always say how much Mandalay looked exactly like her mother.
But if Mandalay was in fact just like her mother, that didn't mean she had to end up like her. She didn't have to die, she didn't have to believe, and she didn't have to be crazy. But none of these things about Mandalay's mother were true.
Mandalay didn't truly remember her mother very much at all. All she had to go by were the rumors and gossip that she had heard in town growing up. No one ever talked about how Mandalay's mother died or why. All they talked about were her eccentricities and strangeness.
These words were exchanged between a particular set of bitter old women, who lived in Crescent Peaks. A set of women Mandalay wished she didn't have any ties to. But they were often about.
Crescent Peaks was a small town, and the handful of people who lived there knew each other very well, even if they didn't want to.
It was always the same, the same people in the market. The same days of the week. The same festivals and holidays. The same old Crescent Peaks. If the town had a motto, it would be that.
Not everyone in town was as mean as these women. Most people were nice. But it's always the nastiest people who manage to get under your skin and burn themselves into your mind.
Mandalay May would do anything to distance herself from these women. She would give anything to get them out of her head. But in her head, they were.
Often when Mandalay would pass by them, they would scoff. They would pretend not to see her as she passed by and whisper hateful things. Things people should not say in front of a child. Things that would make Mandalay May curse under her breath.
Mandalay was not a fan of saying curse words per se, so she would wish upon them a pox or a hex. If they wanted to treat her mother and her like they were witches Mandalay would play the part and hoped that one day one of her cruses on them would come true.
But they never did.
She often wished that the three of them would one day take a hike to Star Gazer Hill and wander deep into the valley never to be seen again.
Star Gazer Hill was said to be cursed, especially at night. It was said that there were sightings of strange creatures in the plains. Odd lights would often be seen. And people were forbidden to go deep into the valley below.
She didn't exactly know why it was forbidden and warned against. But Mandalay thought she remembered hearing that a little girl had gotten lost there once and was never seen again. But that like everything else in Crescent Peaks was most likely just a rumor.
Naturally, being afraid, as people often are, no one ever went to Star Gazer Hill. Except for of course her mother who was never afraid.
Star Gazer Hill meant a lot to Mandalay's mother. Her father told her that she had proposed to him there. That is also where the two had had their first date, and their first kiss. It wouldn't have surprised Mandalay to hear that she had been conceived there. But Mandalay would never ask about that sort of thing.
Star Gazer Hill was a beautiful place. Her mother had often taken her there when she was little. She hadn't been there in quite some time, since her mother's passing. But the flowers that grew there often adorn her dreams. The scent of them vivid to her nose, often bringing the lucidity of memory back to her. She remembered how her mother would keep fresh flowers in her home, but there were no flowers anymore.
She was sure if she really wanted she could hike to Star Gazer Hill and bring those very flowers home. But she feared in doing so that it would make her, and her father sad with remembrance. The thought of it brought tears to Mandalay's eyes, tears that would never fall for they would be quickly overcome by rage.
The thought of those wicked women sparked hatred in Mandalay's eyes. But she shouldn't think such things, her mother wouldn't like that. Her mother was all about love, peace, and acceptance, "tolerance" she would say. But the stark contrast between them and her mother hurt her.
How dare they say such things about her mother, her mother was a beautiful and kind woman. She cared for animals, she volunteered at shelters and at the hospitals. She would always help anyone in need no matter what their circumstance, status, or upbringing. She was a completely unbiased lady.
A lady, yes, the word sounds much softer than a woman. Her mother was a lady. And those who talked ill of her, well, those were hags.
Mandalay didn't want to be a hag, but she didn't know if she wanted to be like her mother, for her mother was dead after all. And Mandalay didn't want to be dead, being dead was not the ideal situation. But if she wasn't a hag and she was not yet a lady, what was she. A child, her mind answered for her but was she really. She looked at her hands.
"Who am I?" What is a child without a mother.
The words escaped her mouth unintentionally. Yes, who was she, now that her mother was gone. She didn't quite know. There was a lot she didn't know even though she tried to be wise. And if that was the case wouldn't that make her then foolish. She didn't know, the thoughts baffled her, the only thing she did know is what she wished.
She wished she could just stay a child forever. She wished to spend her days dancing under the sun and exploring the nature that surrounded her home. She wished to play with all the animals, she wished she could swim in the lake, even though she didn't know how to swim. She wished she could take long baths, and get tucked in at night, and be told a story. She missed the stories, even if they were fake and full of fancy.
She wished that things could have stayed the same, she wished things could be different. She wished things would go back to the way they were before, five years ago when her mother held her in her arms and would sing to her. But that was five years ago, and now she is older. Her mother is gone, and she is having a hard time remembering. Mandalay was having a hard time moving on, a hard time forgetting, and a hard time letting go.
She was having a hard time growing up.
She probably needed to see a therapist. But the only therapist in town was one of the three old hags. So, she never asked to see one. Instead, she tried her best, but what if she wasn't strong enough to do it alone. Being alone was another one of Mandalay May's fears.
Mandalay didn't have much left to remind her of her mother. Her father had sold much of her things to make ends meet when she died. All Mandalay had of her now was questions. Questions that needed answers, answers her father wouldn't or couldn't give her. Answers that the rumors couldn't fill. Mandalay had no one to talk to. She only had her dog but all she ever did was bark. She also had her mother's cat, but he was very mean and very hissy and of no comfort to Mandalay.
What was a motherless child to do?
What Mandalay did was nothing at all. All she seemed to do these days was stay in her room. She would lay in bed and dream. Dreaming was her favorite thing to do, dreaming and of course, playing pretend. But for how long could she keep pretending, it was becoming harder and harder with every passing day. And of course, since the passing of her mother her dreams had become less and less whimsical and had turned to nightmares.
Despite all the sleeping she did, Mandalay was very tired. Not just physically tired but just tired in general. She was tired of pretending, and most of all she was tired of doing nothing. She thought if things stayed like this for much longer she would surely become an old hag like all those nasty women.
And she didn't want that at all.
Were those her only options? Was she fated to become an old hag wrinkled by bitterness and loneliness, or would she meet the same fate of her mother and die a naively beautiful lady.
When thoughts like these arose, Mandalay would shake her head. She would get out of bed and go outside for some fresh air.
~
Mandalay gathered her backpack, which she would stuff full of various things she found outside. Mostly rocks she would paint, or flowers and leaves that she could press into her books. Her father didn't like this habit she had of bringing, 'old junk', as he called it, back into the house.
It was a habit she picked up from her mother. Her mother would always bring back strange objects to the house, old antique like trinkets but all of those things were long gone now. Maybe if her father would have kept, the old trinkets Mandalay wouldn't have to find her own to bring home.
Mandalay rushed past her father's office where he was busy working, as always. He wrote books, alongside her mother, well at least he used to. He would mostly edit and format, but all the creativity had come from her mother's side.
Since her mother's death, her father had yet to produce anything new.
He constantly sat in front of his computer and typed away, but he never produced anything. If he would work traditionally on paper, there would be many discarded crumpled balls scattered about the room. And he called her room dirty and full of junk.
Not that Mandalay thinks his writing is junk far from it. She loved his stories, but she loved her mother's stories more. Because of one deciding factor, her mother's stories came with pictures. And Mandalay's father couldn't draw at all. Mandalay had once offered to illustrate for him. And to her surprise, he agreed that she could illustrate in his next book, but there was never another book.
She used to love it when they would read to her, but she would love it more when her mother would make up stories on the fly. Those stories were the most fun. But that was long ago, and now Mandalay couldn't remember those made up stories because they were never written down. They like the memory of her mother was lost to time.
She hadn't heard any new stories in a while. She would try and make up her own and act them out, but she was never very good at it. Too bad she didn't inherit skillful storytelling from either of her parents. She supposed that gene wasn't passed down to her. What a shame because Mandalay was in dire need of a new story and a new adventure.
"I'm heading out dad," Mandalay called up the steps towards her father's office with one foot already out the back door.
"Kay be back before dark." He called back sleep in his voice, as Mandalay slammed the door behind her.
Mandalay's black golden retriever, Umbra leaped after her, through the dog door. Mandalay thought it was odd that her dog was a black golden retriever. Sure, it was a retriever of the golden retriever breed, but its color was not golden it was black, so shouldn't it be named the black retriever. Her mother and father had justified the breeds name by saying that Umbra had a heart of gold, even though her fur was the color of the starless night sky.
But her mom was right Umbra did have a heart of gold, which she thought all golden retrievers must-have. Umbra was a good girl, she was more than a good girl she was the best girl. Mandalay didn't know what she would do without her. Probably be sad, Umbra was like the moon itself, she would brighten up Mandalay's darkest nights.
Mandalay didn't like to admit it but Umbra was her only friend. Being homeschooled Mandalay was a bit of an outcast and wasn't friends with anyone her age in town. Not to mention there were only a handful of people her age in town, so she didn't have many options.
Umbra knew the drill; the dog began to sniff and search the tall grass in search of something to please Mandalay.
Umbra brought Mandalay a stick. She dropped it in her lap as Mandalay sat on the swing her father had made for her in her vast backyard.
They lived in the outskirts of town, about a thirty-minute walk to civilization. Mandalay and her father liked it like this, it was peaceful. Her house overlooked the town, and it made her feel a little like royalty.
Like Umbra Mandalay knew the drill, she threw the sick so Umbra could fetch it. This time of year was Mandalay's favorite, a light summer breeze wafted through the air.
The pollen was thick, it dried the inner lining of her nose as she breathed. It wasn't uncomfortable it carried the scent of the flowers from Star Gazer Hill to her home. And the smell brought her joy.
Umbra continued to fetch the stick bring it back and forth back and forth as Mandalay swung. Things would go on like this forever if Mandalay let it. If she let it go on like this forever her legs, as well as her throwing arm, would tire.
If Mandalay was lucky Umbra would catch the scent of something to eat, or give chase to some rabbit rustling in the tall grass. Mandalay didn't want to have to be the one to ruin Umbra's fun.
If she told her no more stick Umbra would get sad and stare at her with those big amber eyes. She couldn't resist those eyes. Mandalay wishes she could look that cute and get her way.
But she couldn't.
It wasn't that she was ugly or anything. She was charming in her way with her gap-tooth smile. When you got to know her, but from the outside looking in Mandalay wore a stony unsmiling expression. She wasn't mad or unfeeling she just didn't see the need to be constantly smiling. Everyone in town smiled, but she knew the majority of their smiles must be faked, for the sake of pleasantries.
Most people saw her expression and interpreted it as unapproachable or shy, but animals knew better. Animals would always approach her and that made Mandalay so happy. Animals were a good judge of character.
Mandalay threw the sick. If an animal approached you and let you pet it that meant you were a pure soul.
Umbra brought the stick back, and she threw it again.
Mandalay was friends with all the animals in town, or at least that is what she would like to believe. She would greet each and every one of them if she had to go into town. Though people would give her strange looks if she began to talk to them, which she often did.
She was very fond of the stray cats around town; she gave each and every one of them a name. She wanted to bring them all home with her because they were strays, but her dad wouldn't like that.
Mandalay waited for the stick, but Umbra did not bring it back.
Mandalay stopped swinging.
"Umbra?" She called questioning.
Umbra stood pointed towards a patch of grass as if on the hunt.
Mandalay didn't like it when Umbra would kill the rabbits, but you couldn't stop her animal instinct even though she tried to.
The grass shook and Umbra's eyes widened so much that it made her pupils look small but she didn't growl.
There he was.
Luster, a white sleek looking cat jumped out of the grass sizing the dog up with his tiny yet confident demeanor. Umbra retreated, "A golden retreater". Umbra sat next to Mandalay as she began to softly swing again causing the wood of the seat to squeak.
"Speak of the Devil," Mandalay said coldly. Now, Luster wasn't a stray cat, but her mother's cat. He was the reason why Mandalay's father didn't let her adopt any more cats.
Luster was mean and had tarnished the reputation of all good cats everywhere. He wasn't even allowed in the house anymore because he would just poop where ever he wanted. The boy had no manners. But despite being kicked out of the house, he would always find his way back in like the sneaky little devil he was.
Luster didn't move he just sat there and squinted at Mandalay as she swung slowly. His disapproval caused her to stop swinging again.
"What do you want, what are you looking at?" Mandalay tilted her head and got up slowly.
The cat's ears perked as it lifted its head straightening its spine more.
Everything was silent even the breeze had stopped blowing. They stood like two cowboys in an old western waiting for someone to make the first move.
Mandalay took the first step.
The cat squinted in response tilting its head studying her as she moved slowly closer as if trying to determine if she was a threat or not.
She moved slowly closer and closer. She motioned to Umbra to stay seated.
She was now just a step away from the cat.
"I wish you would let me pet you." Mandalay bent down trying to look as small as possible and non-intimidating to the white cat.
She outstretched her arm slowly and steadily. She kept her fingers loosely clenched trying to make her hand look as soft and pawlike as possible.
She knew if she reached out as if to grab the sullen cat, she would surely get scratched and possibly bitten.
The cat lets out a big meow, showing its sharp fangs to Mandalay as a warning. Mandalay retreated her hand and stood back up.
"Fine have it your way."
She put her hands on her hips and looked away from the cat as if she didn't care, but she did care very much.
Why wouldn't her mother's cat let her pet it? Was the cat always this way, she pondered. Yes, she settled on the answer. The cat doesn't even let her father pet it, and he had known the cat far longer than Mandalay had.
"Don't come meowing to me later when you want some food, you're just depriving yourself of my love and affection."
The cat glowered at her, eyes squinted. If a cat could roll its eyes, she imagined it would be doing so now.
"I'll just give all the love and attention to my dog," Mandalay proceeded to pet Umbra thusly. The dog was happy for the affection, as she began to lap at Mandalay's face.
"See she loves it. Too bad you are missing out." With that, the cat had had enough of this revolting desperate sight. He turned around tail held high as he walked away without a care in the world. Mandalay took the felines retreat as a personal victory.
"That's right, keep on walking." She glowered at the cat just as he had glowered at her. But the cat didn't give Mandalay a second glance.
'Why look back when you can always move forward.' These words echoed intrusively in Mandalay's mind. Her stoic face of victory fell to that of introspection.
Mandalay bit at her bottom lip in contemplation and uncertainty before springing into action. She had debated with herself for a second but decided to go after the cat. She desperately wanted to be friends with it. And so, she gave chase.
"Wait don't leave," she pleaded.
But her frantic quickening steps startled the cat as it ran towards the side of the house and jumped on the roof and climbed into the attic window.
Umbra barked in retort.
Mandalay wondered if her dog was telling the cat to come back. She wondered if Umbra was telling Luster how great Mandalay was as an owner and a friend. And how the cat should reconsider because, like her mother, Mandalay was worthy of the cat's friendship.
"Good girl." She patted the dark locks of her dog, and her barking ceased.
The dog looked up at her with her big pure eyes full of nothing but love and acceptance for Mandalay. If she was lucky for anything, she was sure lucky for having such a great dog as Umbra.
"What should we do now?" Mandalay questioned the dog knowing she would not get an answer.
The dog did nothing but stare and blink back at her in response.
"I know, but I really don't want to." Umbra didn't need to answer, Mandalay knew what she would have to do next.
~
Mandalay found herself on the precipice of the attic stairs. She stood there for what seemed like forever. All she could hear was her own tense breath escaping her nose. The world seemed soundless, it was just her and the attic steps.
She had always feared the attic. She could blame her mother for that. Her mother had told her many scary stories of haunted attics in the past. She had told her that once she had seen the ghost of a woman hanging in the rafters. She looked like she had been swimming in the lake. Her Victorian dress pressed slick to her body, her arms hanging limp. Her hair soaked covering her defining features, assuming she even had any defining features. The figure was unmoving floating inches above the ground, just waiting for an unsuspecting victim to get close.
But her mother had always said that the ghost couldn't hurt her. Ghost couldn't hurt anyone, and if they really wanted to they could banish them away forever. She also said that ghosts, like spiders, are more scared of us than we are of them'. She said that aliens on the other hand were an entirely different story.
But those stories were just pretending. Ghosts weren't confirmed real, and neither were aliens, so there was nothing to be afraid of. After all, there was nothing to fear about a dusty old unused room full of spiders and boxes.
Okay, maybe there was something to fear.
Who isn't afraid of a bug or two. It could be debated that one should be afraid of dust and allergies because who wants to deal with that, the constant sneezing and itchy watery eyes.
Maybe the attic was not only full of spiders but roaches, and maybe a roach would run up and bite her on the big toe. Mandalay wouldn't describe herself as the luckiest girl out there. So being bitten on the toe by a roach was not entirely out of the question.
Mandalay looked at Umbra.
Umbra didn't seem scared, so Mandalay shouldn't be either. Dogs were said to be able to sense things like trouble and oncoming misfortune, not to mention ghosts, you know, if they are real.
So, if Umbra wasn't scared, neither was she. There was nothing to fear, besides fear itself, she supposed. Besides what's the point of dwelling on what bad things could happen. It wasn't a certainty, for all she knew something good could happen. Mandalay could find some treasure up there, like the treasure of friendship with Luster. Or she could find a really big spider to take a picture of, that could be fun.
Mandalay made her way up the stairs, one step at a time, like anything, should be taken. Umbra stayed at the foot of the steps wagging her tail happily up at Mandalay as if cheering her on.
With the approving smile of her dog. She placed her hand around the handle and opened the door. She opened the door with caution and disparity.
What she saw was something worse than a ghost or a spider, it was worse than even a ghost of a spider. What she saw was nothing but darkness, unyielding pure shadow.
Mandalay rubbered her eyes and blinked as she tried to acclimate them to the dark of the room, but she couldn't. She needed a source of light. She dug through her small backpack and found her old Polaroid camera.
The camera wasn't really that old. It was a digital Polaroid hybrid. She had gotten it as a present from her father in an attempt to get her to stop bringing home things she found interesting. He had said that now she can just take pictures of the things she liked instead of bringing it home. This would make things more manageable for the two of them, but mostly him. But his attempts didn't work, at least he tried. She hadn't really used it that much. The camera had spent the majority of its days buried at the bottom of Mandalay's old woven sack.
It's not that she didn't like the present, it's just that she didn't use it that much. But now more than ever she found a fond appreciation for the gift her father had given her and would cherish it.
She held the camera close not bothering to put her eye to the lens. She scanned the room giving a flurry of flashes to illuminate the darkness.
Flash
Flash
Flash
She took three photos scoping out of the room. The pictures fell to the floor. What she saw was nothing but a bunch of old junk, dressing mannequins, boxes, old chests, and some wardrobes. But mostly boxes.
Fully assessing the situation, she took her first step into the room with more confidence in her steps. She held down the button as long as possible to shine the light as she walked. After about five seconds the Polaroid would finally adjust and snap a photo.
Flash
Click
She aimed the light around the room in search of the cat. Old webs hung from the ceiling like the ghost of the woman in her mother's story, just hovering above the ground. The webs were thick, and glistening from the light of the camera. Some webs brushed against her neck making her shudder as she brushed them away with her free hand.
Now she felt cold, the feeling of a million tiny spiders prickled her skin. Was this what the guys on tv, who explored supposedly haunted buildings, meant when he spoke of ghostly chills. She shook it off and kept searching.
Flash
Click
The camera went off once more, and there he was sitting in the light, Luster. His eyes glowed in the dark like magic. He stared at her twitching his nose. His pupils were only the smallest slivers of darkness in his crystal blue eyes. Those eyes were pretty but they didn't glow of magic as Mandalay had once thought, they glowed of malic. Malic for Mandalay.
"There you are silly kitty." Mandalay approached him, with joy in her voice. But Luster did not appreciate the tone of voice.
He jumped towards Mandalay. Her finger slipped pressing deep into the button on the camera.
Flash
Click
Bang
Mandalay toppled over as the cat's paws made contact with the top of her head. She lost her balance and lost her footing in the dark.
She tumbled into the boxes stacked tall behind her. The dust kicked up in the air as boxes fell to the ground around her onto the creaky floor below.
A box landed right on Mandalay's lap, crushing her to death. Okay, she wasn't crushed to death but that is what she was expecting. A photo of Luster's angry face printed from the camera by her feet.
Mandalay's eyes were closed tight expecting to bite the dust, but instead, she just began to cough due to the dust that stirred in the air.
After clearing her lungs, she opened her eyes and what laid in the box before her was something that must have belonged to her mother.
It was a deck of cards wrapped in a soft golden cloth of silk.
The cloth glowed, like Luster's eyes.
This was the only thing in the box, lucky for Mandalay. If it had been anything else she could have been very hurt. She examined the content of the box further.
The yellow contrasted with the dark blue of the obviously worn deck of cards. The side of the deck of cards was frayed from overuse, they looked like they had been chewed on slightly or ruffled constantly by fingers.
But there was something beautiful about them. Mandalay removed the silk revealing the cards fully in her hands. The backs of the cards were embordered with a complex mandala pattern that matched the color of the fabric that had been wrapped around it.
"This must have belonged to my mother," Mandalay's voice was brimming with wonder.
"Mandalay?" The sound of the boxes falling must have alarmed her father who was calling her.
She quickly recovered the cards and placed them in a pouch that laid in the corner of the box. She rushed to the open attic door exiting and closing it behind her.
"I'm fine, sorry for the noise." She called back to placate him.
She knew that her father would not own such a thing, so it must have been her mother's. She had to keep it a secret from him. She couldn't let him know that she had been playing in the attic.
Mandalay thought that her father had gotten rid of everything her mother had once owned. If he could not part with this, it must have meant a lot to mom, she thought. What if he got upset that she had it.
Mandalay hid the pouch of cards under her shirt and headed down the stairs. Umbra watched Mandalay as she shakily made her way down the stairs holding the cards awkwardly under her shirt. The dog tilted her head at Mandalay with curiosity, unable to understand the strange girl's actions.
Finally making it down the stairs, quickly and in secret Mandalay held the cards out to Umbra who sniffed them with her big wet doggy nose.
She was holding something her mother had once held. She closed her eyes imagining her mother's hands doing the same. Her mother's hands gently caressing the cards overlaying atop her own as she held the deck. She opened her eyes full of joy and warmth, there was something of her mother left after all. A keepsake Mandalay would never let go now that she had it.
Umbra fixated on the pouch whose seams were splitting at the bottom. Curiously she licked at it and tugged on it pulling at something that hid within.
"Stop that." Mandalay proclaimed pulling the pouch back.
But Umbra held something in her teeth and in pulling it back revealed the slobbered edge of a paper. Mandalay's eyes widened at the realizations that she had stumbled upon a secret note, a treasure map, her mind ran wild with possibilities.
A note was left by her mother.
~
Mandalay sat atop her bed, a string of fairy lights overhead, as she stared at the folded-up piece of paper sealed with wax. She had stored the deck of cards under her pillow in the velvet blue pouch, just in case her father came in and saw it. She didn't want him to take it away. She didn't know what he would do if he saw something of her mothers. Would he cry? Or would he be angry? Mandalay didn't want to risk it.
Mandalay had never seen her father cry before, but she would sometimes hear what sounded like crying late into the night if she stirred from slumber. She wondered if it was her father or some lost weeping ghost that would wander the halls. She dared not leave her bed to find out. Both sights, whichever it was, she didn't want to see.
But now the only question that plagued Mandalay's mind was what secret the sealed old piece of scrap paper held.
The paper was small but thick, folded up into a square that fits into the palm of a hand, her hand. It was slightly damaged from Umbra's lack of care. Mandalay wanted to make sure she wouldn't damage it any further so she handled it with the utmost care. She held the note as soft as one would hold a flower, to keep its petals from falling.
The paper had not held up as good as the cards had through the years and looked like it would rip if she tried to open it too hastily. And with hast, oh, did she want to open it.
Her mind went wild with thoughts. Thinking if her mother had left this note especially for her, a secret message, a goodbye note telling her of how much she loved her. Was it a note that explained it all, a note that told the story that Mandalay had wondered of every night before she fell asleep?
Mandalay wanted to open it so badly. But she feared that in doing so she would become disillusioned and would ultimately feel like a fool forever thinking, ever hoping that the note held some secret. For all, she knew it would just be an old grocery store list her mother had written or just an old doodle.
But if her mother had written anything at all, shouldn't that be enough for Mandalay. She could compare her writing to her mother's writing and try to immolate it in an attempt to be closer to her. No, there is no way that whatever words the note held would be enough for Mandalay. She would want more.
But if she didn't open it who would, whose eyes would read it? If she had not found it, what would have happened to the note? Would it have eventually decayed into nothing but dust, and become one with the copious amount of dust held within the attic?
But she found it and now it was here, and it was hers. It was her problem now. There was no way she could return the note from whence it came. She could not forget it and leave it be. It had to be done, and it had to be done now. Mandalay May had to open the note.
Without dwelling on it any longer Mandalay carefully lifted the corner, breaking the seal. She delicately lifted every corner unraveling the puzzle of foldings. Once every corner had been undone the note blossomed open, revealing the contents it held inside.
It read The Ritual of Answers.
And it held many instructions.
~
(Picture of Instructions needed)
Mandalay gathered the things the note said she needed, rocks, candles, salt.
She didn't have the right kind of candles. They had to be a certain height and scent, handcrafted. The candles had to be infused with oils and dried leaves and petals of a variety. But Mandalay didn't have any of those things, she didn't know how to make candles, so she made do with the candlesticks she did have. The candlesticks were of a variety, but not a very good variety. The candles she gathered were of all different colors and scents. Not to mention they were of different heights and widths and some candles were even half-used and melted down to different lengths.
If Mandalay was anything, it was resourceful. Even the rocks she had gathered were incorrect. But she didn't let that stop her. The instructions called for special rocks and ore, crystals, and quartz. But she made do with a variety of river stones she had found in the lake.
She needed sand and lots of it. Lots of colored sand, white and black and gold sand died and dried and sifted. She wondered if she would get away with using sand from outside. Natural sand, she could put glitter in it to give it the colors it needed, but that was as good as it was going to get.
Lastly, she needed salt. Pink and white salt, which to her surprise she actually had. At least one thing would be right. She wished all the things she had could have been right. She didn't like that she had to wing it like this. But she didn't have any money to buy all the right things she was just a child. She could ask her dad to buy her the right stuff, but she didn't want to bother him or waste his money.
She knew he tried his best to make ends meet and surely, he didn't have enough money to waste on buying her sand and rocks.
Mandalay was sure he would say,
"Why do you need rocks and sands"?
Then she would have to explain this note, and that wouldn't go over well. But then she could just lie to him. But if she did that, then she would feel bad for lying. Lying is wrong, and if she did lie and say she needed it for an art project she wanted to do, he would probably say,
"Why can't you just use rocks and sand from outside?"
Which is what she was currently doing.
She was being resourceful and if he knew that she was being resourceful, improvising, and using the materials she had at hand to get the job done he would defiantly say,
"Good thinking Mandy, I'm proud of you for your resourcefulness it's an admirable quality."
Once all the things were gathered, Mandalay looked at the note one more time to make sure she had everything she needed. Her eyes lingered at the bottom of the note where her mother's name was signed, Lily Lee May. Upon reading her mother's name she held the note close, then folded it up and placed it gingerly in the side pocket of her backpack.
She didn't have everything she needed. But she had to be okay with that. Mandalay didn't want to have to wait any longer to perform The Ritual of Answers.
Lastly, she ran upstairs and grabbed the cards and the golden fabric from under her pillow.
Then she was off to Star Gazer Hill.
~
It was getting late but there was still plenty of daylight out, the note read to perform the ritual during the day and never under any circumstances to perform it at night.
Mandalay was happy that she had enough time left, if she had to wait till tomorrow she didn't know if she would be able to make it to morning. She probably wouldn't be able to sleep due to excitement and anticipation, and performing a ritual on a bad night's sleep didn't sound like a smart thing to do.
"Come on Umbra" she called out and her dog came running.
The note had said to perform the ritual alone,
'With not another soul in sight,
Do not perform this task at night.'
But dogs didn't count, did they?
She hoped not, she had to take Umbra with her. She couldn't leave her at home. For one she didn't want to leave her at home, she loved Umbra. And for two her father didn't let her leave the house without her by her side. Whenever running errands like delivering a letter or going to pick something up from the market her father always told her to take Umbra for safety and so she did.
~
To get to Star Gazer Hill Mandalay and Umbra would have to go through town. Mandalay wasn't looking forward to it, but Umbra seemed excited to go for a walk around town. Her father always told her to take Umbra for safety but Umbra was always greeting everyone they walked by in town. She was the friendliest dog ever and just wanted everyone to pet her. She would get a pet and then Mandalay would be forced into some awkward conversation with the locals.
Mandalay knew most of the town's folks didn't like her much. They found her strange. But she wasn't strange she was just shy. They didn't hate her, but they sure didn't love her either. But they all loved Umbra, who didn't love Umbra.
Dogs, no, all animals in general are amazing and should be loved by all. What kind of person hates animals? There was only one group of people in town who Mandalay knew didn't love animals. They hated Umbra and hated Mandalay herself. The three old hags, of course, would be the kind of people who hated animals.
And like clockwork as if on cue there they were around the corner The Nasty Hags Three. She wanted to avoid their sight, every time they saw her they would make snide comments about her. They said how strange of a girl Mandalay May was because she talked to animals and had no friends. They would talk about how she was homeschooled and how what a shame that was because if she would have been put in regular school then maybe she would be more normal. But then another of the hags would retort and say its best, she is homeschooled we wouldn't want our kids to catch the strangeness that runs in the May family.
Mandalay didn't know how old these three women really were but she couldn't imagine they were as old as they looked if they had kids that could be in the same grade as herself. They didn't look very young but maybe they just didn't age gracefully, maybe all the evilness and awfulness of their personality had aged them from within showing their true self they were on the outside.
They talked about her mother as if they knew here, which if they grew up in Crescent Peak they probably knew of her, but I wouldn't say they had close relations like a friendship. They seemed jealous of her mother, they said how her father was handsome as if he isn't still handsome, her father is very handsome. They said how their family must be cursed and look at what the curse did to poor old Michael May.
They say how it's a shame he married Lilly. And how this town is a poison. Mandalay wondered why the three of them stayed in town then if they hated everything so much they should just move away. The town of Crescent Peaks would be better off without them anyway. No one would miss them. Those three old witches, they were the true curse on Crescent Peaks.
Mandalay waked by them, not giving them a second glance, she kept Umbra close by her side holding onto her collar making sure that Umbra didn't give them a second glance either. The chatty witches had been deep in conversation as she walked by but stopped chatting at once when they noticed her waking, head held high.
She could feel their prying eyes and noses staring at her poking into the back of her skull as she continued to walk by trying her best to stay strong and not turn back. She had a mission, a destination, a goal, to go to Stargazer Hill and perform the task her mother had left her.
As Mandalay had fully walked past them, they began to chatter once more, she wished she could say that their words didn't hurt her but they did. She hated them, but in doing so that made her like them, and she hated that. She didn't want her hatred to turn her outsides ugly as it had for them. She wished she could confront them, but she didn't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much pain they caused her.
Mandalay had to tell someone, even if it didn't help the situation in doing so maybe things could get better. She wanted to prove them wrong about her and her family. But was it worth it and didn't she have to, of course, she didn't? Mandalay couldn't change them or their opinion she had to be the bigger person about this, like her mother would have been.
~
Finally, they had arrived at Stargazer Hill. The sun was high in the sky, and all the flowers were in bloom. Mandalay stood atop the hill and looked down into the plane below. It was full of flowers. It was full of Stargazer Lilies, her mother's favorite flowers. The air smelled lovely.
This is what freedom must smell like she thought, she looked to Umbra who was rolling around in the grass without a care in the world. She flopped back and forth her tongue hanging from her mouth. Mandalay wishes she could be like that rolling around in the grass. She wanted to roll down the hill into the flowers below.
But this was no time for lackadaisical daydreaming. She had work to do. She had instructions to follow. She pulled the paper from her side pocket and began to work.
She started with the shape, the complex intertwining of flowing lines interconnecting like a web of a spider whose intelligence was beyond mankind. A mandala was drawn on the flat patch of earth carved into the earth itself and adorned with white and pink salts. Circles within circles combining into one creating spirals that do not spiral out of control but loop around into signs of infinity and oneness. The purity of the salts mixes with the uprooted sands of the earth cleaning the circle.
She stacked towers high at each end of the loops creating a disconnected wall of rock around the rings. The towers of rocks stacked as high as her small body allowed her to reach. Each stone smooth and balanced atop one another in a stable yet unflushed natural state. Each stone a different color and shade of earth symbolizing the diversity within it. The speckles of the stone-like stars in the sky the roughness of some contrasted with the smoothness of others as together the towers of rocks stood tall. Although the rocks collected had been from many different places and each must have held its own experiences and journey prior to now being one of the same stacks, there was a beauty in it as Mandalay topped each stack of rocks with a slender candle.
The candles were a mixed match of brand new and used, but all beautiful in their own way. She was unable to tell which candles would have the scent of vanilla, and which would be all together scentless. But regardless of each candle connected to the pillars of rock acting as an antenna and spotlight once lit within the sky. The lights of the fire on each candle flickered softly in the gentle air of the open plain around it. The grass moving in tandem with the fires, together, although the fire had the power to destroy the grass itself.
The flames brought both warmth and guidance, but Mandalay also knew that they could bring destruction. She carefully placed the rest of the candles atop the rocks hoping the towers would not topple. She had to work with haste in hope that the candles would not burn out or be snuffed by the wind. Taking a step back she could see in the light of the fires that she had accomplished what the instructions had foretold. The illustration on the paper matching what now stood constructed in front of her. Although not as uniformly perfect as the illustration itself, her creation was beautiful in its own right because it was her own. She has worked hard to make it and now it was time to step in.
The following instructions stated that once the monument was constructed that the maker should sit within the diagram and wait. And so, Mandalay did she sat in the midst of the pillars and spirals and circles directly in the center. The instructions said to sit in silence and breath before proceeding, a moment of rest after such tedious work. She felt the sun on her skin as she sat upright and breathed in the wild air. Her eyes were open as she took in the sea of flowers that spread out before her. The stargazer lilies stood out in the vast plain below. They brought beauty to the land and color to the grass as the stars brought color to the sky. To think these flowers existed and did as their namesake foretold, they sat and gazed among the stars, but Mandalay did not have that pleasure, gazing among the stars was impossible with her curfew.
And the day was running out, she would have to finish the ritual and head home soon. So without wasting another second, she grabbed the deck of cards unveiling it from the fabric. She placed the fabric around her shoulders and as instructed took the top twenty-two cards and placed them around her in a circle within the slots she had drawn within the dirt. One by one as she placed the cards down she whispered under her breath each number, starting from one as she ended on twenty-two. All of the cards were faced down hiding what they really were.
Mandalay looked around, she saw no one except for her dog, Umbra who laid under a nearby tree in blissful slumber. Good no one is around, she thought to herself. She didn't want anyone to see her or hear her for that matter. The next step would involve speaking, and she didn't want to attract any unwanted crowds and visitors from the town. She knew if anyone were to see her here doing such odd things on Star Gazer Hill she would not only get odd looks but more unfavorable rumors would begin to spread. Witchcraft they would all say, and she would be labeled a martyr, a charlatan, and a heathen. She didn't mind being called these things but she didn't want them to reflect poorly on her father or on her dead mother.
She waits another moment longer to make sure no unexpected visitor would arise and then she began. She read from the paper the words aloud.
If there are things, you'd like to know.
Mandala made of sand like snow,
Candles burn on towers high,
Open up your closed third eye.
Finally, see what your heart desires.
Answer hidden within the fires.
But nothing happened. Then she noticed like an idiot something is written in fine print, her eyes must be closed tight and never opened until she hears the answer her heart seeks. Hears the answer from whom she didn't know, but she would know it when she heard it. And so she closed her eyes and held the paper tight with her hands, and she recited the poem again and again under her breath and in her heart, she spoke it with such haste and fervor that she began to get a bit tongue-tied. Her grip on the paper was as tight as her eyes were shut and as the words grew faster she would feel the wind kick up around her the scent of flowers and candles in the air.
It felt as if a whirlwind of worldly energy was cloning around her, her hair dancing spiraling in circles, she could smell the salts now as they lifted it smelled like the sea, a sea of flowers and fire. She felt as if the air within her lungs was being taken out and mixing with the air of the earth, yet she didn't feel breathless. It felt as if she was weightless her body floating her body one with the wind.
The words were no longer flowing from her lips but from her heart, there was silence in this meditative state, then she heard it, a voice in the wind. She took a deep breath in as if to take in the voice and to fill her lungs with the wind of knowledge, but the silence was broken. Umbra began to bark and howl, her sounds of fear overpowering the voice of answers.
Mandalay's eyes burst open in alarm.
There was a loud sound of a thud as she hit the earth and the earth began to shake. An earthquake, she looked around her as the towers she constructed tumbled to the floor. Each and every stone upturned and rolled breaking the intricately beautiful patterned below it. Some rocks rolled down into the field of flowers below being lost within the foliage.
The wind must have snuffed out the candles as they smoked in the aftermath of the pile as wax dripped from the rocks into the sand. She looked around startled as Umbra continued to bark. One of the candles had withstood the wind, she watched as the tower fell in slow motion towards the earth below. She leaped to try and catch it before it fell even though the fear of burning her hands ran through her veins. But she missed.
The candle fell and the fire spread. At the sight of the fire, Umbra barked more viciously now as to call over anyone in earshot to come to Mandalay's aid. Panicked by it all Mandalay ripped the golden fabric from her shoulders and began to try and beat the fire out before it spread more, but to no avail. She had to think quickly, that's when Umbra bolted. Umbra rushed into town, and Mandalay, like a fool, at a loss for what to do followed her blindly.
~