Anamelia, a Tale before Dying

by Alec Silva

  Anamelia nodded, despite the second request bothering her.

  The forest was bigger than it looked. The birch-white was found without much difficulty. It was not a very tall tree, which helped the withdrawal of two branches. Walking a little further, she found a space in which only an apple tree was in a thirty-two feet radius, forming a lopsided circle; following the instructions of the stone, she drew the circular design, attempting to keep the tips that crisscrossed the moist soil directed to the interior. At the end of the service, she entered the circle, staring at the ripe fruit of the apple tree. She took a deep breath, aware that now was the tensest process. She put her left foot on the stem, centimeters above the ground.

  “Uncle leshii, arise!”, she shouted loudly. “Do not come as a wolf or fire, but in human form!”

  Nothing happened.

  “Uncle leshii, arise!”, repeated, increasing to the maximum the tone of her voice. “Do not come as a wolf or fire, but in human form!”

  Suddenly all nature was silent. Birds stopped singing. The wind did not blow. The rustle of leaves in the trees ceased. Rodents left to run the branches and the foliage dry. Everything fell into an eerie silence. The creatures bowed to their master.

  “Who dares summon me?”, sounded the hoarse and cavernous roar that echoed through the woods as the rumbling of thunder.

  A hand grabbed Anamelia's foot and pulled a bit, scaring her. The girl almost stumbled; quickness to get rid of the thin fingers that sprouted from the apple stem and the small leaps to balance saved her from a not so pleasant fall.

  Recovering from the shock, she turned her bicolored eyes to the tree, which was partially divided by a slit in the trunk, allowing the passage of a slender male creature, with a wide black and curly hair covering his body; his feet left the hollow, revealing hooves similar to those of an ox, with robust and hairy legs. His hands groped the edges, scratching the bark of the tree and driving the body to the outside. Free, he sought the human who dared to recite the call.

  “Is it you?”, he asked, pointing to the girl. “You are the bold one who summoned me?”

  “Yes, I Am”, she said, controlling her fear.

  “So, you wish a favor from me?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  The leshii scratched his long beard, making some beetles come out and roam the black and tousled strands. The green eyes scanned the frail figure of the young girl.

  “You know, by chance, the price I charge for my favors?”

  “No, I do not know.”

  The guardian of the forest moved smoothly, analyzing admired that delicate condemned creature.

  “Tell me your name!”, he asked, feeling the scent of the perfume of the young orphan.

  “Anamelia”, she replied, intimidated before the ancient entity.

  “Anamelia, a graceful name!”

  “Thanks.”

  “But Anamelia, what do you want me to do for you?”

  “I need a magic wand, sir leshii.”

  “What kind of wand, my child? There are many plants and trees in this forest, and all provide great magic wands. And I think who sent you knows that, for manufacturing them is an overly simple process to a craftsman and too complex for a little girl who still smells childhood. A magician, maybe. Or a coward. Anyway, tell me what wood that you want the wand to be made, Anamelia!”

  She tried not to look away from the Lord of the forest that was circling her with a stern and fascinated way, as someone before something new and long awaited.

  “From the wood of a tree that grows near the river watering the garden of Death, sir”, she managed to reply, strangely awed by how that request caused him a strange chill in the body.

  “This is a request that balances the scale of the price I charge by my provided favors!”, said the guardian, laughing afterward.

  “Can you grant me?”

  “Yes! Of Course, I can. I am the leshii! I inhabit this forest for thousands of years and am the absolute master! Long before the town isolates this area, I lived here already. I saw life being and not being. The world has changed. I remain. Death commands the fate of everything, but I am the sovereign over what belongs to me in all the worlds, either above or below the ground where you step. Await me here! Do not dare any escape, as I'll find you in any corner you decide to go from now on!”

  Going back to the apple tree, he disappeared into the little open hole before. It was as if life returned to its course. The birds returned to whistle, the mice to run the branches and dried leaves...

  Anamelia waited under the shade of the fruit tree, rambling on common issues. At least it was for her, who was increasingly involved with the magical world. She wondered what the garden of Death looked like; it was the second time that the talking stone needed something from there for its purposes, though now it was a secondary item, very different from what were the mushrooms. Next, she mused about the place she would go when the tasks were completed; she believed it would be a beautiful retreat, even more than the bosk she was.

  When everything dove into silence, the girl knew the lord of the forest had returned.

  “Here’s your wand, my child”, he said, holding out his thin hand and fingers gnarled as if they were twigs. “I believe you know it will give you only three wishes, right?”

  “Yes, I know”, he confirmed the girl, catching the intense red colored object.

  “Well, Anamelia, my part of the covenant is fulfilled. Now, when you die, which should take place before the end of winter, according to Death, your soul will go with me to her garden.”

  The heart of the orphan pounded.

  “I will die?!”

  “All life is exhausted, my child Anamelia. Why do you think yours wouldn't?”, asked the leshii, staring at her with astonishment.

  “I just... it's... I need to get out of here.”

  “Yes, and thou wilt. That I've not the slightest doubt! However, I helped you, paying my favor, and I went down to the underworld, bringing you the wand that you wanted so much. My price is your soul, however Death bargained with me just now. And I handed you to Her. When your time has come, I'll take thee to the garden. There you will be maintained. You will become the most beautiful flower.”

  “I did not know...”

  “I have to go, I have served you enough. Well, enjoy your wand and what is left of your life!"

  The leshii was gone, leaving Anamelia in shock.

  She, without realizing it, blinded by promises, had given the only thing really hers for the creature: her soul. Exchanged the essential part of who she was for the fragment of a dream that didn't even seemed like hers anymore. This was the first phase of the penultimate task. Seven contracts for a stone to go back to human form. So what? However, her guide would not deceive her and betray her; not, after all, she had done for him! It was foolish to think that all those fortunes made through the night were meant to deceive her with false hope.

  Believing in an abstract goodness, she left to run the second part of the dangerous work. She walked back to the swamp where she had been on her third job; she wasn't not afraid to chance into the ogres in the scary accidents of life. All she wanted was to find the castle made of bones and diamonds. She was careful with the wish; after all, the magic wand could accomplish it. She had just thought about it, however, when she was faced with the witch house.

  Immense, it was built as a mountain amid the mud and the filthy sludge, the odor of putrefaction and the trees seemed to have infernal mouths gaping. As low light entered through that dismal region, diamonds glittered almost nothing, being more a jumble of transparent stones than something valuable. The bones in a yellowish color and some having cracks, gathered to form the awful housing. Only through magic could that colossal palace be built, composed of four towers with crystalline peaks, a huge gate of animal skeletons, walls that combined both materials and missing windows.

  “Begone, castle!”, Anamelia shouted, pointing the wand at the dark house, which granted her appeal, making
it bright ashes lost in the air, with grains so tiny, not even a lynx could see.

  She hid, as was recommended by the stone, and waited impatiently for the arrival of the host. Huddled in a hollow between the roots of a dead tree and the muddy ground, she was the quietest and gloomiest human creature as possible, a silence that denounce the anxious beating of her uneasy heart.

  As occurred since the beginning of his journey through the long night, the bad memories came. Not as intense as before; it was easy to disperse them, in fact. If she wanted to go to a magical world, she needed to get rid of what would hinder her from being happy there. It wouldn't be interesting to see fairies dancing under the moonlight in a mushroom circle while brooding the horrible things that happened to her. It was time to leave everything behind and just look at what was to come. The future should be more fantastic than the past.

  The witch suddenly appeared in a despair that aroused the curiosity of the youngster's heterochromatic eyes. She had not noticed the disappearance of her castle but was so angry as would be if she had discovered the outrage. She was a very beautiful woman, very different from the conky hag with warts that was portrayed in numerous tales and picture books; and in many aspects resembled Anamelia.

  “I’m the queen!”, shouted a cavernous and proud voice that the girl had heard before, a few hours ago. “I need a castle to command my subjects!”

  “No, you don't!”, snapped the witch, whose voice was soft as the jingle of small glass bells.”You are no queen!”

  The ogress dragged her bulky body menacingly, but the woman did not even took a step back. Intimidate someone who feared her was simple; do the same with whom was afraid of nothing, was very complicated.

  “You wear that crown of thorns for years! In addition to lacerate your flesh, it only makes you look even more pathetic!”, continued the owner of the castle.

  “Every queen wears a crown, duh!”

  “Not a crown that hurts the head like the one you're using!”

  Anamelia agreed with that. Then she remembered the statue bleeding gold. Two opposite. The symbol was the same, but from two different perspectives.

  “At least, I am loved by my subjects!”, retorted the ogress, filling the obese chest of a poisonous pride.

  “No! They fear you. Nobody respects you! They would kill you if they were not so cowardly!”

  “Better the fear of them all than love that turns me into stone!”

  The provocation was the last straw.

  In a quick move, the beautiful witch pulled out a wand from the sleeve of the black dress sleeve she was wearing, casting a spell against the hideous creature that fell where once stood the castle of bones and diamonds.

  Then the host realized the disappearance of her house. She could not complain or find out who did that feat, because a stone was thrown violently on her head, bewildering her.

  “You disappeared with the castle just to not give me!”, accused the ogress, with eyes were swollen by rheumy blood.

  Dizzy, the woman, who was pale and had long black hair, tried a spell, but the staff of the supposed queen hit her legs, knocking her down.

  “You’ll die as an example!”, screamed the creature, stepping in the witch's spine until it heard the bones creaking.

  Unbearable pain. The ribs splintering and puncturing vital organs. Everything fell apart in external and internal bleeding. If she were to die, her killer was to go too; was the latent thought of the dying.

  With great horror, the heterochromatic eyes witnessed the bulk of the ogress explode. Yes, explode. No swell or shrink, without fire or heat, the monstrous queen just fell apart into small pieces that spread to all sides, covering her victim, and executor, with dark and crushed viscera liquid.

  Anamelia was in shock. It was not pity or fear, but the violent reality of things. The magical world was also cruel. Perhaps even more than usual. There were deaths, hunger, misery, and destruction. Nothing was perfection, as preached the various fairy tales and fables heard or read.

  She stood still, so quiet and fearful, for a long time. She saw the dying witch agonize while death did not come. Probably would have saved her life, if she had gone; or maybe she would also be exploded as the ogress. Therefore, she never knew what actually would have occurred.

  When she was sure of the woman's death, she approached, stepping in blood and guts, sloshing the hideous mixture that had formed with swampy mud. She searched the black dress, noting the pierced woman's body; she found the desired object, a small silver cup. She grabbed the wand with force.

  “I want to go back to where the stone is!”, she wished with ease, finishing the penultimate task.

  IX

  A necessary sacrifice

  The rock celebrated the completion of the sixth work. It would jump for joy if it had legs. Only the last item separated her from her goal; and Anamelia would give it to him, after all, she was determined to realize their dreams.

  The girl held her wand tightly. She was restless since returning, thinking about everything that happened in that long winter night. She visited a cemetery, where taken care of the hair of a male ghoul and suckled in the withered breast of a female; She convinced a gnome to fetch mushrooms grown in Death's garden; She watched an ogress Queen kill a little servant before collecting sputum thrown to the ground; destroyed the botanical garden to get the ashes of a phoenix; stormed the church to get hold of the crown of a religious figure; and witnessed the queen of the ogres trample a witch just before it exploded.

  “What is the seventh task?”, she asked, knowing there was no way back.

  “Put the tears of the virgin, the deadliest mushrooms, saliva of the queen of the ogres, the ashes of the phoenix and your blood in the chalice, my dear!”, said the stone in a calm and blunt tone.

  “My blood?!”

  “Yes, your blood.”

  “But why?”

  “I need the blood of a dreamer, and you are the dreamiest person in the world.”

  “But... is...”

  The leshii said her soul belongs to him that he would pass to Death, as an offering for the wand.

  "... What if I die?”, feared the young orphan.

  Death meant the end of her dreams.

  “You will not”, said the scholar. “It's just a little I'll need. Enough for me to turn me into a man again and then I can take you with me to my world."

  Anamelia hesitated.

  “Just a cut on the wrist”, continued the stone, perfecting the wit, “a cut made with the philosopher’s stone. A little blood in the chalice, along with the tears, saliva, mushrooms, and ashes. Do this and free me to fulfill my part of the deal!”

  “Promise you will comply?”

  “I give my stone word.”

  “If your lie, I want you to turn back to stone again and never find another choice to help you!", wished the girl, clutching her wand so hard that it broke.

  Each item was put in the cup with care; although it seemed small, it had room enough to fit everything; and, no matter how things were put, more could be deposited without the content even reaching the middle. When finished, she took the crown of thorns and tore her left wrist, which bled the bright red liquid.

  “Fill the cup!”, asked the petrified guide. “Fill it with your blood or it will not be enough!"

  While the red liquid dripped and dropped into the container, Anamelia already daydreamed with walks in the colored fields, bathing in lakes and rivers, the dances to the sound of flutes, the meals in the woods... Everything would be different. No pain, nothing to remember the sick caretaker's games. She would Forget the abortion suffered at the orphanage, soon after one of the nuns forced her to drink lemon juice mixed with juice of poisonous mushrooms; for three full days she vomited and bled, she suffered in an isolated room, and no one was willing to call a doctor; she found strength in the photographs of her parents and that crucified man, though a still picture. Forget the damn monster falling from the window, upon losing his balance when he was pu
shed after trying to pass that filthy hand on her groin again; the image of his skull blown would be nothing but an incognito figure. Forget the home of the foster parents, who were barely not completely incinerated after leaving the open gas log and a lit candle.

  To move forward, sometimes it is good to leave something behind.

  Blood trickled slowly. And the cup was not even halfway yet.

  "Just a little more!", encouraged the stone.

  The girl sat next to the scholar, feeling sleepy. She pulled the container that never filled near her legs, watching its heterogeneous content. The arm was numb; soon all her body paralyzed. She just saw, heard and babbled something. Unable to move. And very cold.

  “Goodbye", was the last thing understandable that pronounced.

  And her two-colored eyes closed to that world that had her suffer so much.

  X

  Tale’s reticence

  The nude body of a young runaway was found stuck in the icy surface of a lake that winter. Bluish skin and bloodless, which ran wrist cut by a blade that had not been located.

  No one ever knew who killed her or why. Some believed that she committed suicide, but others told that they always saw her talking to a beggar who said he was a great sage. This man, however, was never seen again.

  The case recalled another occurred last winter.

  A girl was also found with the wrist cut. She was in the woods for at least three days, sitting and frozen. At that time, as well remembered a resident, that case remembered the other, which happened in the previous year.

  Some people ask about the three strange deaths, which always wanted to run away from home. A great mystery never solved, unfortunately.

  Anamelia will never return to tell what she saw when she closed her eyes. It will never be revealed if she managed to realize her dream of life or if Death took her to her garden, turning her into a flower with bicolored petals.