The house was at least a hundred times better than how her mother and father had described it Alyn Walker took in a shaky, excited breath. She had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Her mother and father had described the “perfect house” and living in it would be like “walking around in a storybook.” Finally, Mr. and Mrs. Walker had brought their daughter along with them to see their new home. The realtor, dressed in a tight gray suit, unlatched the wooden gate embedded between two towering stone walls. Alyn clasped her hands together, calloused from hours upon hours of writing over the years. Her excitement was manifested as the prim realtor opened the passageway. Alyn’s mouth fell open. The house was at least a hundred times better than how her mother and father had described it. The cottage, fashioned with hand-cut stone, was quaint, charming, and very charismatic. Surrounding it was a magnificent garden, abundant with foliage and greenery of every kind. Every bush had been planted with loving care, every flower placed with such tenderness, that the garden had amounted to a gorgeous, glorious whole. A brick path wove its way around the garden like a little snake slithering along the soil. “It’s beautiful,” Alyn breathed. She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that she was going to live in this exquisite house. “Did I mention that we will be sharing this property with a neighbor? She lives in that little shack there,” Mrs. Walker said brightly, always in a positive mood. Alyn hadn’t noticed the small stone abode before, for it was concealed behind the tall nectarine tree and abundant shrubs. Now she saw the rundown home, with the door falling off its hinges and a single, dirty window. Alyn felt a tiny poke of disappointment in her happy heart. She wasn’t a greedy person, in fact, far from it, but she really didn’t feel exhilarated about sharing her new estate with someone who didn’t have the decency to keep up their own house. She gave a slightly injured sigh. Mr. Walker took notice of his daughter’s crestfallen reaction and quickly comforted, “Don’t worry; the realtor said this neighbor is extremely introverted. She won’t be any bother to us.” Alyn nodded and shook it off. This moment was too special to be spoiled with a minor inconvenience. “If you like it, honey, we can move in next week,” Mr. Walker said. Alyn grinned. There was no house that ever was, nor ever could be, more perfect than this one. How her friends back in New York would envy the little Californian beachside cottage with a yard full of plants as green as her eyes, all tucked behind real stone walls like gold buried in a treasure chest! As the four exited the property, Alyn felt a stony gaze upon her back. She glanced up at the window on the hidden shack, and was frightened to observe two glaring eyes, golden as a ferocious tiger’s, staring at her. * * * A young woman peered out of the solitary window in her rundown house, watching the realtor and the family of three stroll through the garden and inspect the cottage on the property. This woman had decidedly lived in an isolated state for five years and hoped that these newcomers would not be a nuisance. She glanced over at a picture frame on the dirty windowsill that held a photograph of her husband and son. She had loved them dearly, for her husband had a kind and understanding spirit, and her red-haired son was a huggable teddy bear with a charming smile. Pain pricked her heart like a sewing needle would prick one’s finger, and she reached for a piece of paper and a pen. * * * It had been a week since she had first been at the cottage, and Alyn was unpacking and attempting to air out the musty smell that had settled upon the old house. The two shining, yellowish eyes had been brushed to the farthest corner of Alyn’s brain, for there was so much to do! She stood up from her bent-over position on the wooden floor and wiped sweat from her brow. She didn’t remember having quite so much stuff, but here it all was, waiting for her to unpack it and place it in the cheery sunroom that had been converted by the Walkers into Alyn’s bedroom. Alyn pinned her swooping bangs behind her ear and surveyed the area. Boxes were piled in every corner, and she could barely find what little furniture she had set up amongst the monstrous tower of moving supplies. Deciding it was time for a short interlude, she opened the door, its glass panes reflecting the sunlight, and entered her outdoor haven. The scene painted before Alyn was a sight to behold. The salty ocean air breezed past her nose, and it was so delightfully overwhelming that she felt like she could taste it. The seagulls cawed overhead, dancing in wild, unrehearsed formations in the clear blue sky. The heavenly scent of flowers tickled Alyn’s senses, for the blossoms were plentiful, scattered amongst the bushes. Blue jays and robins twittered in the shrubs, gossiping about who knows what. Walking along the pathway, she approached the nectarine tree, standing firmly like a soldier amidst the other plants. The sweet smell was so tempting that Alyn plucked a fruit and took a large bite. The juice dribbled down her chin, but she didn’t wipe it away. She didn’t care. There wasn’t anyone here to criticize her, or anyone to give her a reproachful glance… in fact, there wasn’t anyone here even to see her! Then Alyn remembered the introverted neighbor who lived in the tiny house behind the nectarine tree and bushes. Her hand quivered slightly and her heart began beating faster. Had the strange person with the awful eyes seen her? She didn’t want to find out. As Alyn
September/October 2010
The Whale
The whale gently glides across the surface his sad, long, moaning music enchants all he meets to rejoice the sound would be a wronging for he is sad, lonely, cold his sister has just lost her life and the two-legged ones did it an empty feeling embraces his head and the wind drowns out his thoughts as he peacefully swims away Isaac Goodman, 9Providence, Rhode Island
Owl Eyes
I stood outside the little store, waiting for my mother to come out. The golden sun had sunk behind the whispering branches of the pine trees. The moody sky had been dyed dark orange and gray, dotted with thin, wispy clouds. All the birds of the forest were silent and had hidden themselves, except for a single great-horned owl dozing in a tree. I shuffled my feet and the pebbles underneath my sneakers tumbled over each other, raising little clouds of gray dirt. I wish Mom would hurry up, I thought. How long does it take to pay for firewood? I had been waiting there for fifteen whole minutes, according to my pale pink watch. I watched as the second hand ticked its way slowly around the face of the clock and finally decided that I had waited long enough. “Mom,” I hollered, poking my head through the door of the shop, “I’m going back to the tent by myself. I’m tired of waiting for you!” Without a second glance, I turned on my heel and sprinted down the dusty trail, the gravel crunching beneath my feet. As I ran, the cool autumn wind blew through my long hair, and I breathed in the rich, sharp scent of pine needles. Suddenly, I reached a fork in the trail, unsure of where I should go. I was pretty sure the campsite wasn’t to my left, so I decided to take the right trail. That part of the campground was darker, and the trees grew closer together. Vines and roots jutted out from the ground like mossy tentacles, making me trip and stumble. Minutes later, I heard a small splashing noise. Thinking that maybe it was my father making soup over the campfire, I ran towards it. But it wasn’t soup at all. It was a silvery blue stream, surrounded by muddy yellow weeds. I turned around and started walking in the direction I thought was the way back to the campsite. But wherever I went, the trees, grass, roots and dirt looked exactly the same. Warm sweat started to trickle down my sides and make my shirt stick to my back. It cocked its head expectantly. Did it want me to follow it? When the sky was starting to turn dark gray, I heard a noise but I was too far away to make out what it was. When I approached the source of the sound, I realized it was another stream. Then I saw the muddy, soggy weeds and realized with a jolt that this was the same stream I saw an hour ago. I was going in circles. If I was to continue like this, how would I find my way back to the tent? The sky had already darkened to a threatening shade of dark blue, and the full moon had taken the place of the setting sun. My heart thudded in my chest like a trapped bird. I heard a low rustling noise and spun around. Nothing was behind me. Just shadows and black trees, where anything could be hiding. Terrified, I sprinted away from where the noise came from. I ran past the dark pine trees, each one filled with leering, fanged faces and scaly corpses’ hands reaching out towards me. Something wet and cold brushed against my hand, and I whimpered and ran faster. Luminous, menacing red shapes filled the thick undergrowth, watching me dash past. When I dared look away from the glowing figures to glance up at the darkening sky, the stars became white-hot eyes glaring at me from above. Suddenly, a pair of huge, sharp yellow eyes snapped open above me. My heart stopped, and so did my feet. I watched as the two circles stared down at my face, and then one eye closed sleepily, and opened again. I then realized that those two eyes were not the eyes of a monster or devil, but the ones of an owl. My eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, and I could see that it was a Great Horned Owl. It spread out its wings, displaying its massive wingspan and black speckled feathers. All of a sudden, it soared towards my head. I ducked and watched it land on a branch to my left. It cocked its head expectantly. Did it want me to follow it? I didn’t think owls were smart enough to lead someone home, but something about this bird just seemed… trustable. I hesitated and then took a few steps towards the bird. It took flight, soaring through the chilly night sky. I stumbled blindly after the owl for what seemed like hours, my ankles becoming scratched and bruised from the rocks and thorns on the forest floor. I started thinking that I shouldn’t have followed the owl and that I was simply too imaginative. Suddenly, I heard people calling my name. Recognizing the voices of my parents, I raced towards the shouts, completely forgetting about the owl. I glimpsed my mother and father rushing through the trees at me with their arms outstretched, sobbing. As I was caught in their rib-crushing hug, I babbled to them about all that had just happened. Then my voice trailed off as I glimpsed a familiar pair of great yellow eyes peering out at me from a pine tree. But as soon as I laid eyes on those two shining stars, they blinked and disappeared into the night. Noa Wang, 11Delta, British Columbia, Canada Joan He, 13Wynnewood, Pennsylvania
