Melissa's Journey

Melissa should have been happy. Visiting a carnival with her family was far more pleasing than sitting at school, like most other children were this lovely Thursday. Even so, she remained as bleak as she did upon entering as she did seeing the various carnival acts and humoring little Dawn by playing some of the games with her.

Dawn became frustrated. “Come on! You’re not even trying anymore! What’s your problem? You’ve been acting like Miss Mopey at a funeral since… forever! Has there ever been a time when you weren’t all Depresso Girl?”

“Whatever. Look, you want to play another game?” Offering her little sister what she wanted usually inflicted her with short memory loss and a happier disposition.

Not today. “No! You’re not at school, I’m not at school, the weather’s cheery, and you’re surrounded by a bunch of people having a good time! I thought that happiness was supposed to be all infectious, but I guess not.” Melissa gave her sister an annoyed look. She was not going to be chastised by her kid sister.

“You’re twelve. You really don’t know anything.”

“I do.”

“Whatever.”

Their parents found them sitting opposite of each other on a bench with crossed legs, crossed arms, and a cross face.

“You two not having a good time?” asked her mother, concerned.

The sisters looked at each other. Then –

“It’s her fault –”

“I have to play with her –”

“And she won’t quit moping –”

“This place is way too immature, anyway –”

“But she can’t have a good time –”

“And I’m sick and tired of it!”

Melissa knew from years of experience what an upset mother looked like, and all the signs were showing: thin lips, slightly narrowed eyes (often looking at the father for encouragement), and hands placed slightly above the hip. She felt a sense of dread in her stomach. “Well, your father and I were going to continue sightseeing together, but if you two don’t feel like you’re having a good time by yourselves, we could take you along with us.” The daughters’ eyes widened. It was significantly worse to have to get along with each other in from of their parents.

“No, no. We’re good.” Dawn broke into her highly persuasive smile. Melissa usually found it annoying but enviable; now she hoped it was working at full power.

“You sure, sweetie? You two seemed to have a falling out.”

Dawn feigned surprise. “What, this? This is just normal stuff. Sister stuff. We were having a great time a little before that. Please, Mom? We didn’t even get to finish all of the games!” Her hands clasped in front of her and she bounced on her heels in excitement. Melissa had to admire her acting skills.

Mom looked at Melissa for confirmation. “You aren’t worn out from watching her? You’ll make sure she’s safe?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” She did, actually, but she minded the flipside more.

“Well,” she said skeptically, “alright. We’ll meet you down at the other side of the carnival in three hours for dinner. Be there in three hours, do you hear me? And if anything is wrong, Dawn has my cell phone and can call me.” Melissa knew. Her mother specifically gave the phone to Dawn so that Melissa wouldn’t spend her time calling her friends.

Melissa smiled slightly. “Yeah, don’t worry.” Mom nodded approvingly.

As soon as they left, both resumed their silent bickering. After a few minutes, Melissa began groping for something in her front pant pocket.

“What’s that?” Dawn asked, trying to see what was covered by Melissa’s hand.

“Sixty dollars. I’ll give it to you if you can handle yourself for two hours and return right here an hour before we have to meet Mom and Dad.”

“Cool, alright!” Dawn made a motion to grab it, but Melissa held it back.

“I’ll give you half now, and the rest later.”

“No! That’s not fair.”

“It is and you know it. That’s how businesses and people do it: Give half before and half later.”

Dawn pouted. “Fine. You promise you’ll give the rest?”

“Yeah, promise. And remember, if anyone asks, I’m in the bathroom. Got it? She gave her the three bills and put the other three in her pocket.

“Got it. See you then.” She bounded off.

“Hey!” Dawn turned. “If you get kidnapped by some scary, creepy guy, you are so dead. Don’t do that.” Her sister rolled her eyes, flashed a smile and disappeared into the crowd.

Minutes later, Melissa was plagued with boredom. Perhaps I should have just dealt with her, thought Melissa. That would have been better than just wandering around aimlessly. She shrugged off her light jacket and tied it around her waist while contemplating finding her sister, when she saw a cat.

It was a slender, gray cat, contrasting greatly with the large, colorful booths behind it. It sat quite still, almost rigid, and seemed unaware or uncaring of the dangers of stumbling feet. It gazed at her, unblinking. For the fun of it, she gave it a small wave.

In response, the cat flicked its long tail.

She nearly forgot about the crowds, the deafening din became soft buzz, the people a colorful blur. Kneeling down, she stared at the cat. “Hey there. What are you doing here?” Her voice shouldn’t have carried to the cat with the hustle and bustle all around and her voice too soft.
The cat blinked. The two were still for a beat, then the cat sprang from its haunches and ran away. Melissa, compelled by overwhelming curiosity, followed in vain. She reached an intersection and scoured every direction for the cat.

It was sitting to the right of her, calm, and almost bored. The moment that Melissa saw it, the cat bounded off yet again. She followed again, and repeated this. The cat led her further from the carnival.

Around the time when Melissa became tired and suddenly worried about her sense of direction, the cat dashed between two barren trees.

Odd, thought Melissa as she ran through them. It’s still summer. She looked around. There, in front of her, lay a very clear trail leading to what appeared to be a small forest. She decided that chasing the cat was not worth getting lost in the forest, and made to turn around, but stopped before she took two steps. She stared between the two trees, to the forest, and back again.

The carnival was gone.

Gone! Carnivals did not, as far as she was concerned, disappear and, furthermore, did not leave more forest were it had lain. Mom’s gonna kill me when she finds out I left Dawn, she thought, if she manages to find me.

But what was to be done now? She tried to remember what to do when one was frightened and lost. Calling for help wasn’t going to be much help in the middle of a forest, and staying in one spot was even worse.

“That cat wasn’t wild,” she concluded. “It was definitely tame, and anyway there’s a path. If I follow the path, I’ll probably find people along it as well.' And so she began her journey, traveling down the well-worn path.

But what a long journey it was! It had been hours since she had begun; the sun had bathed the path a bloody-orange, and night was beginning to give way. She imagined Dawn finally abandoning the meeting spot and reporting this to her mom and dad. Or maybe it was her parents that had tired of waiting and demanded why she wasn’t with her sister.
Melissa continued stumbling along the path.

In the purple light of the late evening, she saw a much brighter light in the distance. It wasn’t far away – certainly less than a mile – and, as quickly as she could run. In her haste, she tripped, almost fell, regained balance, and kept going.

The night was lit with stars as she finally approached the light. Lanterns, potentially hundreds of them hung along the edges of strange buildings in a sudden clearing of the forest, like one expected to find in a fairytale. A small group of people were in a clearing. They were not speaking, laughing, or even facing each other. Instead, they were standing, facing in the direction of Melissa, their faces passive.

Feeling foreign and awkward, she cautiously stepped out of the woods and into the clearing. If the group – two men, one woman – were at all surprised at this, they didn’t let it show. The woman, lined with age but with an aura that demanded respect, smiled. “Hello, child.”

Melissa hesitated, stuttered a “hi.” Then, a moment later, began to tell her story. “Could you please help me? See, I was at this carnival, and then after I gave my sister some money I saw this cat, and I went after it just because, but then now I’m here and I need to know how to get back.”

The woman looked sympathetic. “I am sorry that you have been troubled. However, you are here for a reason. It is not your time to return to your world.”

“My… world?” Melissa seriously reconsidered talking with a woman who believed in different world and probably believed in mythical creatures as well.

Before Melissa could excuse herself and explain more thoroughly, the woman spoke again. “You were led here, you see. I believe it was Lumas, correct?” She turned her head to one of the men, of which Melissa had not particularly noticed, and found this to be an absolute fact, never mind the insane logic. This boy had been the cat.

He was more a boy than a man, though still perhaps two years her senior. His head was covered in hair the same cool gray the cat’s had been, yet it not age him at all. He had cat ears and a tail; the latter curled around to his front and moved idly. Even if these apparent clues did not point the true nature of the cat to him, his gray eyes pierced her with the same impassiveness. He did not speak.

Her mind was swimming. Carnivals disappearing, strange woods, cat boys – these things did not exist in real life. She wondered briefly if this was a dream, but knew that it was not, for the air was cool against her skin, and she faintly realized the jacket that had been tied to her waist was either lost in the pursuit of Lumas or the walk through the woods.

She realized a little late that the woman had been talking again. “…been waiting for you. There are people who have lost something dear, and we help them find it again.”

“Lost? I mean… my jacket, I lost that, but I had it before the ca… Lumas.”

Melissa became irritated as the woman smiled as if this was an elaborate joke. “What you have lost cannot be touched, and one cannot find it by searching for it.” The other man, old as well and balding, nodded in agreement. Lumas stood still, looking bored.

Melissa paused before speaking again. The game seemed to be to find this “thing” she had “lost,” and if she did, she would go home. It was simple enough. “So, if I can’t find it by searching, how would I find it?”

“It comes with time.” Melissa jumped; she had forgotten about this man, and didn’t realize that he could even speak. “You will know when you’ve found it again,” he said, his voice laced with the gruffness of age. “In the meantime, you will stay here until you discover it.”

“I… I have to get back, though. My mom and dad and my little sister, they’re waiting for me, probably.” She pointed from where she had come from, hoping that this emphasized her dilemma. “Look, if I lost it and didn’t notice, I probably didn’t miss it much. My family, however, will miss me if they don’t find me after the carnival has closed.”

The man shook his head, his forehead shining in the light from the lanterns. “It is not your decision, child. You will go back when it is your time, and that is all. Of course, you are free to refuse, but I don’t believe you know your way around. Am I correct?” The angry, silent fumes from Melissa gave him answer enough. “So you see, it’s better to stay here.”

“Alright,” said Melissa. And so she did.

Two weeks had passed and she still had no clue what she was missing, but came to be close acquaintances with hard manual work, helping here and there under the head of the village, Catherine. A month and a half later she nearly forgot what she was doing there. Days blended into one another, long, and yet short at the same time. She wished to return to her family.
She confided this with Lumas once, as they traveled through the now well-known forest paths. “I really can’t wait to get out of here, you know.”

Lumas twitched his ears. “Do you?”

“Yep. Home was so much easier. Here, I have work upon work upon work; at home, my parents had this belief that you should remain a kid as long as possible. The only real responsibility was to watch Dawn. I miss all the local stores, too. The moment I get back I’m going to buy something nice for myself for getting through this.”

Lumas looked at her with his clear eyes.

“What?

He did not answer. He simply sped up as if to leave her, but instead kept a steady distance ahead of her.

She thought nothing of it, and another week had passed without incident.

Then, one of the children in the small village, a tiny girl, split open her knee while playing. Melissa watched as the child wailed and the doctor examined her quickly and skillfully. There was something humiliating to cry in front of others; it was equally as embarrassing to watch someone cry. She frowned sympathetically.

The doctor glanced in her direction. “Melissa. I hope you don’t mind watching the child while I’m gone? Just to get supplies, for stitches, you know.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. I can watch.” The doctor nodded promptly and hustled out of his office.

As the child continued to sob, Melissa examined the room, anything to avoid watching the child cry. The flowers in the plain vase on a desk had begun to wilt. The room was modestly decorated, with one or two pictures adorning its walls and small lights illuminating it. The child sat on a couch with her leg outstretched, plastic protecting the couch from any bodily fluids. The room looked more like a waiting room.

As the girl still cried, Melissa thought aloud, “Does it really hurt so badly?”

Sniffling, the child answered, “A bit.”

Melissa chuckled in spite of herself. “A bit?”

“The stitches are gonna hurt more. I know it.”

Melissa looked at the child now, straight at her blotchy, tear-stained, red face. “How do you know? Have you had stitches before?”

“No. But he’s getting stuff. Whenever he gets stuff, it hurts.” She sniffled again and rubbed her nose furiously with the back of her nose.

Melissa smiled and knelt by her side. “Listen, you be a big, strong girl, and I’ll stay right next to you until it’s all done. You can squeeze may hand as much as it hurts. How does that sound?”
“You promise?”

“Promise.”

Shortly after, the doctor reentered, Lumas closely behind, carrying a needle, thread, and various liquids for numbing and sterilizing. “This will be over in just a bit,” he reassured the girl.

After lots of squeezing of the eyes, and little of the hands, the doctor at last took off his gloves and smiled.

“Am I all better?” the child asked.

“No,” he replied, “but the stitches are in place and all you need to do is let the leg heal for a few days so the stitches are secure.”

She looked at him with wonder. “You did the stitches?”
He grinned. “Yes. Five of ‘em. Wasn’t bad, was it?”

But the girl paid no attention to him. Instead, she half hugged Melissa. “It didn’t hurt bad! It really didn’t!” She laughed in her glee. Melissa hugged her back just as enthusiastically.

The doctor left again to retrieve crutches, and as Lumas and Melissa watched the doctor teach the girl to use them, Melissa began to cry.

Lumas stared at her, tail flicking. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just kind of… Dawn got a huge cut in her arm when she was six. She cried and moaned for a long time, but she told us later it didn’t hurt that badly. This kind of reminded me of her. I miss her a lot.”

His ears twitched. “Do you?”

She laughed and choked a little. “Yeah. She can be a brat and all, but she’s my sister, and I love her to death.”

The little girl distracted her as she waved at her; Melissa waved back. When she turned, for the first time she could remember, Lumas was smiling.

“Good,” he said. “Good.”

Days flew quicker than before. Melissa spent the majority of her time with the children, playing with them and teaching them new games. Lumas remained as laconic as before, but he smiled more often, which made Melissa happy to some extent.

The Day had come a little over three months since the first encounter. The sun blazed down upon them. Melissa sat before Catherine, the head, the mayor, in a sense, of the village. The woman looked upon her. “You’ve been a delight to this small community, but we know when one has found their way and is ready to leave. You came here to find something dear, and you have found it. We will miss you.”

Melissa flushed. “I’ll miss you all, too. I won’t forget this, not in a million years.”

The woman bowed her head. “Lumas led you here; he will lead you back. Follow him.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She started along the path, then paused. “Ma’am?”

“Yes, child?”

“What did I lose?”

She smiled. “Consideration. Compassion. Selflessness. Something very precious to all of us. Now go. Lumas is waiting.”

“Right.” She left, trailing behind Lumas, then walking side by side.

They strolled down the path. They didn’t speak; there was no need to.

They reached the parallel trees. Lumas and Melissa hesitated before them.

She looked down. “I’m going to miss you, you know.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh,” she faltered.

His tail flickered, and she saw a smirk cross his face. “You did okay.”

Lumas pulled Melissa into a quick embrace, then released her and turned to walk the other way. Melissa blushed, then crossed the two trees and prayed it would work.

It did. She found herself back at the carnival. The noise and bustle startled her so much she covered her ears. After she had slowly removed them, a hand clasped into hers.

She jumped. “Dawn!”

“I’ve been waiting forever for you! Well, fifteen minutes, but anyway. We have to get to our parents, like, now, and you owe me thirty dollars.” She held out her hand.

Melissa hugged her sister tightly. “I missed you!”

Dawn struggled out of the embrace. “Yeah, missed you too. Say, you didn’t happen to take a bunch of drugs while I was gone, right?”

Melissa laughed. Nah, I just lost something.”

“Like what?”

Melissa shrugged. “A piece of myself, I guess. Come on, let’s go.”

They traveled down the streets. As they were walking, they found a cat. It was gray, from head to tail, and gave an air of indifference. “Hey there,” said Dawn, crouching to pick it up. “What are you doing here?”

Melissa could swear that Lumas winked at her. “Shall we take him to Mom?”

“Will she let us keep him?”

“Maybe.”

Dawn looked at her sister, excited and anticipating. “What shall we name him?”

Melissa thought.

“Lumas,” she said finally.