ANCORA
Katie twisted the stark white feather between her
fingertips. Three feet from base to tip, it was unlike any she’d ever seen. Not
just because of its size, but because of the way it glimmered -- as if it
possessed its own light source.
She ran a finger over its tufts. How could it be
so strong and soft at the same time? A single bead of water slid from the
feather’s base to its tip, glittering in the moonlight and falling to the
ground.
As she held it, something tugged at her inside.
She had an urge to answer, to yell out, “yes!” and “here I come!” It startled
her, but instead of dropping the feather, she curled her fingers even more
tightly around it.
She was in her secret place, a tucked-back nook
in the woods near her house. She guarded its secret like a dragon hoarding a
jeweled chalice, never mentioning it to anyone, careful no one saw her coming
or going between its branches.
She first discovered the spot between a thick of
bushes and trees draped in green hanging moss. The dome of limbs and vines
arched from the ground like the half-circle monkey bars on a playground. To her
it was a fortress, a castle, a secret keep. She trekked the woods near her
house, pulling down palm fronds to cover the dome. She named her hideout Palm
Island.
Katie escaped to Palm Island anytime she needed
to be alone. Days like today.
As she examined the feather, a shiver ran all the
way down her spine and left a trail of goose bumps to her toes. It mattered.
Yet she did not know why, or how much – only that it did.
Just then, she was startled by a quick flash of
movement through the layers of branches and vines. Then a stir of leaves. A
step-crunch-step.
From her
shadowed alcove, she pulled back a branch and peered out, the feather clutched
at her side. Ahead, another white flash swished through panels of shadow and
light. She walked toward it, but the footsteps receded. The whiteness vanished.
The surrounding air thickened and grew damp, the
sounds of night distant, muffled as if swallowed in a cloud.
Her grandmother’s voice sliced through the murky
air. Katie whipped her head toward home. At that moment, a gust of wind
snatched the feather from her hand. She darted to catch it, but it streaked
away, spiraling into the night.
And it took some part of her with it -- a small,
lonely spark of light that hadn’t been there before.
Katie remained staring up long after the faintest
glimmer had vanished.
Her grandmother’s third call broke the spell over
her, and she turned toward home.
In the house, pots and pans clanked from the
kitchen and the smell of sautéed onions and ground beef filled the air – her
grandmother starting dinner.
Katie would offer to help, but her Grandma would
only usher her away, telling her to go visit her mom. She needed a little more
time to work up the courage.
In her room, she slumped to the floor. A year
ago, the doctors said her mother had two years to live. The past year had
vanished like a word written too close to the ocean’s shore.
Katie absently lifted both hands to cover her
heart. A painful ache started there the day she learned her mother had cancer,
and had only grown worse since. She wondered if other girls her age felt this
way. She was only twelve but sometimes felt as though she’d lived twelve lifetimes.
Her cat Coal squeezed in the doorway and rubbed
against her sneakers. His eyes met hers and he greeted her with a trilling mew.
“Hi Coal,” Katie said. She stroked his silky
black fur. He purred and dropped to his back, looking up at her from half slit
eyes.
“It was a rough day,” she said, scratching his
stomach. He took her hand between his front paws and licked one of her
knuckles, then rolled on his side. His tail hit the carpet in soft thumps.
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