The Cardinal

Dusty footprints lead away from a sob still clinging to the air. They pause by the whiskey bottle, its amber entrails glistening by the rickety screen door, then gain momentum as they move onto the peeling, sunburned deck. At last they catch up to a pair of delicate feet attached to a tanned scarecrow of a girl standing on the front step. She seems to be around thirteen or so; still awkward with youth and unsure what to think about the womanly grace that accents her limbs. Eyes that shroud their secrets behind a veil of clearest blue stare at nothing. Then, as though a path opens before her beckoning like a stranger selling candy, she slowly gains confidence moving forward.

The dry earth beneath her feet gradually concedes to a mottle of grass and daisies, hopeful despite the tyrannous heat. The girl, unaware of the joys of daisy chains, continues towards the copse behind the house. Silence will greet her there, broken accented by the melancholy thoughts of a lonely stream. Song birds are disheartened by the sorrow that permeates the humid air, covering everything in a sheath of black velvet.

The girl’s fluid motion disturbs not a leaf as she drifts to the water’s edge. She sits; the stream is shamed by the eyes that gaze into its depths. All is still as the girl attempts to lose herself amongst the ripples and water-striders. A pillow of moss awaits as she melts into the loam, dreamless.

The hush of the trees is pelted once, twice by indiscernible cries. A warm blanket is wrenched from the girl’s sleeping form, icy hands molesting her awake. The cries reveal every mystery once hidden in the cerulean abyss; now her eyes bleed fear and hatred. Panic grips the girl’s body as the drunken calls stab through the foliage once again. She claws her skin, as though fighting invisible hands, fiercely determine to have their way with her. The inescapable obscenities gain intensity, fueling the fervor of the repulsive hands as the girl beats wildly at her torso.

Suddenly deathly still, her hands in the air as though engaged in an illicit ritual, the girl stops. In a single flowing movement she turns and embraces the water as a lover, blissful. She smiles gently; her ballet with the stream fades into ripples for the water-striders to dance upon.

A single cardinal, blood red against the mosaic of green, utters a single note. It pauses, waiting for a response. Emboldened by the quiet, it warbles a pensive tune. Opening its wings, the bird flits through the trees, and silence reigns once more.