Time

I have a bottle full of time.

I guard it with much care.

People see it and they scoff.

They say it’s full of air.

I have a bottle full of time.

I keep it hid away.

But no matter where I keep it,

my bottle will not stay.

I’ll put it in my dresser

and find it under the bed.

I’ll go looking for ketchup

and find my time instead.

My little bottle taunts me

Sitting sparkly in my hand

“Drink me,” it cries, “Use me.”

as my life drifts by like sand.

I have time in a bottle.

And I’ll save it for a day

when all my dreams have come true

and time still will not stay.

I have time in a bottle.

I hold on to it tight.

I know I’ll use it someday.

But that won’t be tonight.

In the old stone chapel...

Hello,

I've just finished this one, so you'll excuse if it's a little unpolished. I started it a few days ago and you can consider this post my tribute to the Halloween spirit. I hope you like it.

- Lena

“This chapel was built after the castle was already in existence, but don’t worry guys, it’s still quite old. It dates from the early 14^th century.”

The pretty blonde tour guide walked backward down the aisle. She smiled and gestured to the stained glass windows on either side, before continuing her speech. She spoke with a Scottish burr and it felt like she was always laughing.

“The stained glass is genuine, from the time the chapel was built. Many family members are buried right under these flagstones. Despite the many funerals this chapel has seen, there has yet to be even one wedding, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles, I suppose. You’ll notice that this chapel is considerably colder than the rest of the castle. That’s because, as beautiful as those windows are, they’re not very well insulated. You see, medieval architects didn’t exactly have access to modern heating. But if you’ll follow me through this archway into the main castle and I’ll show you the bedrooms.”

The rest of her classmates filed out behind the guide, sneakers clomping and echoing against the heavy stone, but she couldn’t seem to move. She could catch up to them later, Anna reasoned, but her feet felt rooted in place as she gazed up at the stained glass windows. It was a cloudy day but they glowed in the half-light, casting reds and blues and shimmery whites across the deep gray paving stones.

No one noticed as she hung behind. Anna was surprised that no one had ever been married here. The windows cast such a sense of peace in the cool stone space. It would be a beautiful place to start a life with someone, she thought. She gazed reverently at the windows. Surprisingly, they were quite secular. There were crosses interspersed there, but for the most part, they portrayed abstract designs. She saw animals, suns, stars and moons, shining out from the windows as though someone had taken the celestial objects down from the sky.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

She jumped and turned around at the voice. She had been alone in the chapel, she thought, her cheeks burning a brilliant crimson at getting caught staring. The old woman sat on one of the wooden pews, looking at her with a clear, blue-eyed gaze.

“Yes, they’re lovely,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like them.”

“There’s nothing like them in all the world,” the old woman spoke softly, almost whispering to herself. Like the tour guide, she had a Scottish burr, although hers was much more pronounced.

“I’m glad I got to see them.” It was really awkward, trying to keep up a conversation with a complete stranger.

“I come to see them every day,” the old woman said.

She was wearing an old-fashioned black dress and wrapped in a thin black shawl. Must be a local, Anna thought.

“Wow, that must be quite an effort,” she said. “I mean, walking all the way up from the village every day.”

“I live here,” the old woman answered.

“I didn’t know that anyone still lived in the castle,” Anna said.

“It’s hard to leave your home,” the old woman’s voice was quiet, but Anna understood every word. “I’ll never leave the place where I grew up.”

Anna smiled.

“That’s part of why I’m here,” she said, smiling across the aisle at the woman. “I left home because I wanted to see the world, see new things and learn about them.”

The old woman’s eyes raked her up and down. She shuddered a little under that gaze, but it might have just been a breeze in that drafty chapel.

“You remind me of my daughter,” she said. “She left home, left me, but she never came back.”

“I’m sorry,” Anna told her. “I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories.”

“When you’re my age, darling, all you’ve got left is memories.”

The old woman stared into space for a moment before looking back at Anna.

“Come here, child,” she said, beckoning with an old thin hand.

Anna walked hesitantly over and forced herself not to shiver as the old woman ran a hand over her hair.

“You have such lovely, dark hair,” she said, gazing off into space again before snapping back into the present and looking into her eyes.

“I would like to give you something,” she told the young woman.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Anna answered, and started to back away, as the old woman grabbed her hand.

“I want to,” she said. “I would like to give you something to remember this place by. You should remember that somewhere, your mother is waiting for you to return, that she will be waiting, no matter how far you go.”

The old woman reached deep into a pocket of her dress and pulled out a beautiful gold locket. It was circular in shape and it glowed in the half-darkness of the chapel.

“Take this,” she said, dropping the locket into Anna’s palm. “And remember.”

The girl’s hand closed over the locket almost against her will. She could feel the cool metal pressed inside her fist when the woman spoke again.

“You should catch up to your group now, Darling,” she said. “You wouldn’t want them to forget you in here. Run along.”

“Good-bye, Ma’am,” Anna answered, as her feet carried her up the aisle and out the door at the rear of the church. Honestly, she was quite happy to get out of that drafty chapel and away from the strange old woman.

Her feet stumbled over the lintel in the doorway and she looked back as she tripped, barely bracing herself against the firm stone of the arch. There was no one in the chapel behind her.

Maybe she’d imagined the encounter, she thought, as she ran along the hall to catch up with her group. No, she couldn’t have. She could feel the locket firm and real inside her hand. The old woman must have walked out of the chapel while she was going up the aisle. Yes, she was certain. That must be what happened.

Her shoes slapped loudly against the stone. The blood pounded in her ears. By the time she caught up with the group in the large, airy chamber that the hallway emptied into, she could barely hear the tour guide over the sound of her own heartbeat. She’d missed half of the lecture, but she gathered that the room had been used as a grand dining hall, primarily when the family had important guests, but she could’ve figured that out on her own, judging by the enormous, heavy wooden table filling the center of the space. The chamber was quite gloomy and the windows were small for such a large space, presumably built that way to keep enemy arrows out. Enormous chandeliers hung from the ceiling and she imagined they would have given the room a nice glow, but they weren’t lit.

While she looked, the guide continued speaking.

“If you gents and ladies will take a look round at the walls, you will see portraits of all the members of the family, down through the ages. Some of these date from the 1200’s.” She smiled at the group, making sure she still had their attention. “To be sure, they weren’t a particularly attractive lot, but the paintings do give us an insight into the long and complex history of the castle. We also host parties in this room, for a handsome fee. Quite a few brides have gotten upset when the paintings didn’t match their wedding themes, but such is life. Feel free to have a look around and the tour will resume in ten minutes.”

She caught her breath as the others wandered around the room in small clumps. Some pulled out cameras and avidly began snapping photos, while some plopped down on the uncomfortable wooden chairs and sipped from water bottles, discreetly munching away at whatever chips they had stashed in their bags, for all snacks weren’t allowed on the tour.

The tour guide wandered over to a corner and drank from her own water bottle, chugging quite energetically. Anna followed, trying not to look too eager. She didn’t know quite how to ask her question without sounding odd.

“So,” she said, gaining the girl’s attention. “These tours must make it really difficult for the people who live around here.”

The tour guide screwed the top back on the bottle and sat it on a side table.

“The villagers?” she asked, looking up at Anna. “They really don’t mind. After all, the tours bring in money. And a village so tiny can always use a little extra income. And the tourists really aren’t so bad.”

She smiled, inviting Anna to laugh at her small joke, but Anna merely looked perplexed.

“I didn’t mean the villagers,” she answered. “ I mean the people who live here. You know, in the castle.”

Now the tour guide looked slightly confused.

“No one lives here,” she said. “The castle is a historical place and it’s protected by the government. It’s not a residence. Who would want to live someplace without heat or running water anyway?”

“Oh. I guess I hadn’t thought about that.” She knew she sounded like an idiot, but she didn’t know what else to say. “Of course no one lives here.”

The tour guide turned back to her backpack and surreptitiously pulled out a cookie, as Anna slowly backed away, hoping to pretend the conversation had never happened.

She uncurled the fingers of her right hand. The locket was still there, but it wasn’t the golden shimmery piece she had seen before. A locket that had turned brown with age hung from a rusted chain, sitting neatly in her palm. Quickly, she shut her hand again, backing further away. If she’d been looking where she was going, it might not have happened. She might not have bumped into the side table, nearly knocking it over, but she did.

It rocked on its’ four, spindly carved legs, seconds away from falling over, but she managed to catch it, only to receive a glare from the tour guide.

“Most of the furnishings here are authentic, you know. It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more careful.” The blond girl glared at her to emphasize the point and took a large bite of cookie.

Anna averted her gaze quickly, making sure the table was steady again and found her gaze caught in the painting on the wall behind it. It was an old woman wearing a voluminous black dress. The painting was well done. The viewer could clearly see everything from the intricate lace on the woman’s shawl to the steely blue gaze of her eyes. Her skin was wrinkled and her grey hair piled in an elegant bun on top of her head. She was undoubtedly old, but sat with a self-possession and control that belied her age. And she was absolutely, without a doubt, the woman Anna had spoken to in the chapel.

“Who is she?” Anna nodded toward the painting. To her surprise, the tour guide smiled.

“She’s an interesting story.” The blonde young woman gazed up at the portrait reverently. “Her mother was the duchess of Windsor, who was, unfortunately, none too fond of her daughter. She came here when she sixteen, married off to some man she hardly knew and stuck in a big, drafty castle. But she ran this place like a queen. She’s the one who commissioned the stained glass in the chapel. She made this castle her legacy, despite a philandering husband and a sick son. She put all of her faith in her daughter. She raised that girl like a princess, gave her the run of the place, always said that someday, this castle would be hers.”

“What happened?”

“It’s a sad ending,” the guide said, looking from the painting back to Anna. “Her daughter hated this place, insisted on moving back to London. And she stayed there, until she died, which wasn’t actually very long. Caught some disease and died young. Broke her mother’s heart. But she kept running this place, even after her son and husband died. After she finally passed the castle was untenanted for a long time, until some cousins picked it up.”

Anna gazed up at the portrait for a moment, before turning back to her guide.

“You know,” she said. “You never mentioned her name.”

The tour guide looked up from what was currently her third cookie.

“Her name was Anna,” she said, through a mouthful of crumbs.

The tour guide didn’t hear Anna’s sharp intake of breath and it didn’t really matter, as she trotted off to use the toilet before the tour started up again.

Anna stared at the portrait and then at the locket in her hand. She looked back at the portrait again.

Later she would pretend that she hadn’t seen it, that the portrait was just a picture of an old woman with a shawl, sitting dourly in a plush chair. And she would never admit it, but it was nonetheless true. At that particular moment, gazing up at that portrait, Anna watched as the old woman gave her a wink and a smile.

Happy Holidays

This one came from a writing prompt and I've literally only written it in about forty minutes, so it probably reads that way. It's not terribly well-thought-out, but hopefully it's worth reading anyway. I still think it was a good exercise, even if it's not something I would typically write.

She walked down the stairs slowly, gingerly taking one at a time, as though afraid she would break. Her steps were quiet and no one noticed as she made her way down. Noise filled the house like a bright cloud.

The children of all of the collective relatives were sprawled in the room, like some sort of live rug, watching some sort of holiday special. Between the characters breaking into song and the kids yelling at each other, the living room wasn’t a great place to be. The kitchen down the hall was scarcely quieter, with the banging pots and pans, step-aunts and grandmothers cautiously guarding their secret recipes from the dreaded in-laws.

The men were in the garage, drinking beer and awkwardly telling jokes. Every place in the house, it seemed, was brimming with noise, full of a happiness that rang false to her ears.

She stopped at the bottom step and pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans. It was almost seven o’clock. That meant it would be almost eight in New York. She allowed her mind to drift out the front door for a moment, out into the darkness and the world beyond.

She shook her head, trying to clear it and crossed the hall to look into the living room. Her little cousins were still spread out over every available surface, sitting rapt in front of the TV. The small black cell phone in her hand seemed to draw her gaze to it. With a sigh, she brushed her long red hair back behind her ears and slipped on a pair of shoes.

The bracing, cold air hit her as she opened the door and walked out onto the snowy sidewalk. The red sweater she wore was too big and clashed with her hair but she was grateful her mother had forced her to wear it as she shuffled toward the car.

It was the same car her parents had driven since she was twelve. The locks tended to freeze in the winter, so she wasn’t surprised when she pulled on the cold metal handle and found the car unlocked. She sat in the driver’s seat and stared back at the brightly lit house. She imagined she could hear laughter coming out of it. Pressing her cheek against the cold window, she felt her eyes welling up. She didn’t deserve to be in there. She didn’t want to be in there. But she couldn’t stay in the car forever.

The phone was heavy in her hand. She wiped the tears from her face, took a deep breath and dialed the number by heart.

“Lenox Hill, how may I direct your call?”

Her voice stuck in her throat for a moment when she tried to answer, but finally the words came out.

“Can you please connect me to the critical care unit?”

“Sure thing. Please hold.”

Generic hold music filled the line for a few moments before she heard another click and another voice answered.

“Lenox Hill Critical Care, how may I help you?”

“Can I …. Can I please speak to Layla?”

She heard background noises; paper shuffling and footsteps, as the phone was handed over.

“Layla speaking, how may I help you?”

“Hi Layla,” her voice was quiet. “How’s your holiday going?”

“It’s …. going.”

She looked up at the house and wiped away another tear, hoping it didn’t show in her voice.

“How is he today?” she asked, knowing the answer would be the same.

“He’s doing well.” Layla’s voice was steady, the way it always was. “His leg is healing up fine and so are the skin abrasions.”

“And has he…. come out of it?”

Layla’s voice was soft.

“No honey. He hasn’t woken up yet,” she said. “But I’m sure he will really soon. Don’t lose hope.”

“Can I speak to him?”

“Sure thing.”

The next thing she heard on the other line was the slow rise and fall of Hunter’s breathing, the rhythm was steady. She could almost believe that he was just sleeping. If she closed her eyes, she was back in New York, back in their apartment, watching him sleep in the warm morning light.

“It’s going to be all right,” she told him. “You’re going to wake up soon. And the nightmares will be over.”

Then Layla’s voice was on the other end again.

“I have to go now,” she said. “I’ve got to finish making my rounds.”

“Ok,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “I’ll call again tomorrow night.”

“Good night,” Layla told her. “Go enjoy your holidays, sweetheart.”

“I’ll try,” she said, but the line was already dead.

She brushed the tears off her face and ran her fingers through her hair, but she couldn’t bring herself to go back inside yet. She stared off into the darkened air, trying her hardest not to think. She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there, but the knock on the window startled her.

“Hey Bud.”

She rolled the window down to reveal her father’s well-worn face, nose slightly red from the cold. He wasn’t wearing a jacket either.

“Hi Dad.”

“What are you up to out here all on your own? Your Mom’s starting to worry.”

“Nothing, Dad.” She rolled the window back up and opened the door. “Just wanted some quiet time.”

He looked concerned for a moment.

“Is everything ok at school? How’s everything with that boy, what’s his name, Horton?”

“Everything’s fine, Dad.”

“You ready to go back in, milady?”

“Sure.”

He took her hand, pulling her out of the seat and shutting the door behind them as they trundled back up the sidewalk. She hoped he didn’t notice how unsteady she was on her feet.

She was a little surprised when he paused, right before the front door, and turned to face her.

“Bud?”

“Yeah Dad?”

He pulled her into a hug for the first time in years, the first time she could remember since she’d been a little girl.

“Merry Christmas,” he told her, as he let go and turned back towards the door.

“Merry Christmas, Dad.”

Spiderwebs

Ok, this one is a little off-beat, but I'm pretty tired right now, so it makes sense in my mind. I'm not really sure where this idea came from, but it probably needs some work to be a little more... palatable. Also, I'm not particularly educated about spiders, so I'm sorry if I'm off on any of that. I wrote it without any research. Anyway, I hope you like it.

She had been born in that theatre. The blinking lights and colors of the enormous screen had been the first thing she ever saw. The flash and glow of the lights washed over her, painting her slender black legs in luminous color.

She started watching and she never looked away, sitting rapt in her little corner of the theatre, up near the roof, where the view was best. She spun her web beneath the glow of the screen, feeling the roar of the audience’s laughter as it shook the delicate threads. She watched movie after movie, perched quietly in her beautiful web. She sat through action movies, watching the humans fight. She sat through horror movies, although she really didn’t understand them. Why were humans so upset when they lost a limb? Wouldn’t they just grow back anyway?

Humans worried about silly things, she thought as she munched on a tart little fly and watched the screen.

The romantic comedies were her favorites. No blood. No mess. Everyone ends neatly and comically together and the credits roll. She perched in the center of her web, laughing at the right times. Her favorite part was watching the human male as he bent down on one knee and pulled the sparkly ring out of his pocket. He held it out like an offering, or a prayer, as though the idea of spending his life with this one woman was all he could wish for, as though she was bestowing a gift by gracing him with her presence.

She only regretted that she would never get treated like that or be loved that way. Spiders, you know, are not a particularly affectionate species. So she contented herself with the lights on the screen and the life she had to live.

Another Friday night came and another movie premier. This one was about another single girl in the city… but the plot wasn’t really important. She smiled to herself as the lights dimmed and music began to play. Just a few minutes for the previews and then the main show would begin. She took a moment to glance down at the audience. As usual, the theatre was packed full of people, rows and rows of dark heads… and then she saw it. There, they were sitting in the front row.

It was a young couple. From where she sat she could see his blonde crew cut and her long dark hair. But most of all, she saw the way the dim light sparkled off of the diamond ring on her hand. And the moment she saw it, she knew she must have it. She imagined the whole scene in her mind, the way he’d knelt down on in a beautiful park, surrounded by flowers, or maybe in a fancy restaurant, hiding the ring in the dessert. She couldn’t see their faces, but she imagined the look of joy when the woman had accepted him, saw him scooping her up in his arms and twirling her around. That ring was more than just a shiny bauble. It was a symbol of their love. And for once, that symbol would belong to her.

Slowly, she spun another thread of silk and used it to lower herself to the theatre floor. Inching her way down, she held her breath. It was the farthest she’d ever gone and it was a long way down. She was relieved when she finally got to the floor. She crept forward. It was shocking, she thought to herself, how unclean these humans were up close. The dirt on their shoes was simply revolting. Down the aisle she went. She tried her best to rush, after all, she was no big spider and she only had an hour and a half.

The movie cast a spell over the audience. Everywhere she looked, feet were still and faces were upturned toward the glowing screen. No one noticed her as she legged her way across carpet and footlights. She wasn’t really one for exercise, but finally, huffing and puffing, she reached that first aisle, where she’d seen the glitter of silver and stone.

Right in the middle of the aisle, she found the pointy toed-shoe she’d been seeking. For some reason, these young women always wore those stupid shoes. Personally, she didn’t see the need for shoes in the first place, much less the painful contraptions that human females tortured themselves with.

But she decided as she crawled north on the shoe leather and made her way onto the jean-leg, it really wasn’t her place to judge. From the jean leg, she hopped north to the armrest. She heaved a sigh of relief that everyone was still focused on the screen.

Carefully, she edged towards her destination, landing lightly on the couple’s entwined hands. The stone sparkled enticingly, mere inches away. Slowly, painstakingly, she wrapped her pincers around the ring, dancing around the young woman’s hand as she pulled off her prize. She was aware of every muscle, every twitch of the fingers she sat on. More than once, she sat still, holding her breath as the surface moved beneath her.

Finally, she was safe and sound on the floor, pulling her prize behind her on a gossamer thread. The stone was even more beautiful than she could imagine, its facets reflecting her own beautiful face back at her, shimmering with her own beauty. She dragged it back to her web, feeling its satisfying weight as she crept. She clambered up the wall, eight legs scurrying and wove her gem into her web.

It was her centerpiece. Finally, her life was complete. Admittedly, there was no guy standing on bended knee, begging for her company, but she didn’t need one. With the gem reflecting back her own shimmering dark beauty, she didn’t need to pretend that she was loved. She loved herself and it was enough.

She sat with her furry black body perched on that silvery hoop and watched as the movie ended in yet another fairy-tale ending. And she smirked as the couple ransacked the theatre, crawling on the floors and rooting through the garbages. They didn’t need the ring, she knew. They had each other.

And she had her prize.