But that was then, as they say, and this was now. Now. Now it was me and it was Otis, here. What about Otis? What to do with him? I stared at him, all weak and about to die. What to do? What to do? I knew what to do and I did feel some hesitation about doing it. I mean, did I really want to go there? Those vampires! How could they have done this to him, to us? How could they have driven us into an abandoned warehouse during the dead of night after almost killing my beloved? They were beyond evil. They were blood-thirsty villains.
“Am I going to die?” Otis asked softly, barely hanging on.
I stared at him and felt overwhelmed by sadness. Of course, he was going to die. Well, he was, but not literally. Not forever. I looked around the warehouse and then I heard them, not too far off, the other vampires. I had no choice. I had to do it. If not, he’d die and they’d win and I couldn’t have that.
But how did I get here? I closed my eyes and thought about it. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was what I was going to do next. But, perhaps, how I got here might be worth mentioning.
A Little Walk
It happened to a lot of children back then.
I can still remember what it was like during that time. It was so cold. That story, Hansel and Gretel? Well, some say it’s real. I tend to agree with this. I don’t think somebody just came up with it off the top of their heads. No. They didn’t make it up, not in my opinion. I believe they just took something that was happening and applied pen to paper. Or, maybe, it was told later on, through generations, before someone actually sat down and wrote it. I don’t know how it came into being, to be quite honest. However, there was no gingerbread house or even a witch. Those kids were in the woods probably because their parents led them there and abandoned them. Why? Why would they do such a horrific thing? Well, probably because they couldn’t feed them and, let’s just say, it was either the children or it was the parents and they sure weren’t about to let themselves starve to death.
Hard to believe, isn’t it? But, no, I don’t believe they made this stuff up. Not at all. Lots of fairy tales have roots in reality. So, yes, it was real. Yes, it happened all the time in my day. Maybe not to a little girl called Gretel and perhaps not even to her brother, Hansel. But there were others, lots and lots of others. And it happened over and over again. How do I know this? Because it happened to me.
Everyone was starving so I guess I can understand the motivation. But still. Couldn’t we have worked something out? I mean, I was young, little. I was so little. I was ten years old. I’m sure I didn’t eat that much. And they just left me there, in the woods, to die.
Yeah. It was pretty hardcore.
As I was saying, I guess they didn’t have much choice, my parents. People were starving, dropping off like flies all the time. It was called The Little Ice Age. Well, not back then it wasn’t. I only know what it’s called because I saw a special on it on TV one day. To say my mouth dropped to the floor would be an understatement. So that’s what it was called! Yes. And that’s what it felt like. It was so, so cold. Dreary. Awful. The winters seemed longer and the springs wetter and just miserable. Summers were cool, not warm and not nice. This made growing crops very unpredictable. I still shudder to think of that time. It was a time in history when the temperature stayed consistently lower than normal, so low that one could get anything to grow. And no plants equaled no produce. No produce equaled fewer animals. Fewer animals equaled starving people. Starving people equaled desperation. Desperation equaled… Taking your kids to the woods and leaving them for dead.
We lived in Bavaria. There it was freezing and, because nothing would grow, famines broke out. If you had a lot of children, some of them would die. It was a hard time to live anyway and this made it even harder. It was inevitable. So, you had to pick and choose which ones to keep. I was the youngest of my family. I was the runt, as they say. It didn’t look good for me anyway. So one day, my father dressed me in my shabby, yet warmest, clothing and we went on a little walk. That’s what he told me, too: “You and I, Isotta, are going out for a little walk.” A little walk. It sounded like fun. Why not? I loved to get out of the house.
Our house was what they called a fachwerk style and was once really, really nice. However, after years of disrepair, it looked like a wreck. But we didn’t have money to patch the roof or do other repairs. Just as we didn’t have money for food.
I glanced back at the house as we walked down the cobblestone road one last time. It was the last time I would see that house and most of the memories I had of it are now a little faded. I have tried to forget that time and try not to think of how bad it was. Sure, I do remember my older brothers and my one sister and how they would hound me and tickle me. Sometimes we would have fun chasing each other outside. But since it was cold and we were famished, we had begun to reserve our energy. Days were long and nights were cold. It wasn’t a happy time to say the least.
I held tightly to my father’s hand, enjoying being with him outside in the small village as we made our way across town and towards the woods. I loved my father very much and he would bounce me on his knee still, even if I was getting older. He whispered that he loved me into my ear every night before I went to sleep. He sometimes gave me a sweet treat when he could, hiding it from the rest of the family, giving it to me in secret. I foolishly believed I was his favorite.
My mother, on the other hand, was a different story. She was quiet and sometimes mean. Her blue eyes would flash at you from across the room and you’d straighten up very quickly, lest you incur the wrath that was delivered on the other side of her wooden spoon. When we had food, she would make the most delicious strudel. However, she never gave me extra.
I think back sometimes, “How did they come to that decision to abandon me in the woods?” I think it was hard for them but nothing like it was on me. I didn’t even know that’s what they’d done until later. Hard to believe but I was that naïve. I just thought I had gotten separated from my father and was lost. I, foolishly, thought they were coming back for me.
So, there we were, father and I, walking out of the village and into the surrounding woods. And what woods they were. A forest really. You never went near the forest because there were wolves and other creatures that would love to have you for a light snack. Also, there were bandits and thieves hiding out there, bad people you didn’t want to run across. This is another reason people stayed out of the forests in those days. You stayed home and prayed for the sun. That was life in Bavaria during that time.
“Papa,” I said as we neared the woods. “We cannot go in there.”
I stopped walking and tugged on the sleeve of his coat. He stared at me and sighed loudly, not with irritation but with resignation. He had a task to do and I was just going to have to go along for the ride.
“It is alright, child,” he said and bent down to my eye level. “We are searching for berries. Mama wants to make a pie.”
Of course, I believed him. Stupid, I know. But I believed him because the thought of a pie made my mouth water. A pie! A pie! A pie! Ummm… Delicious was the very thought of such a thing. And I was so hungry. It would be wonderful to have a pie! So, we continued on. It seemed as though we walked for hours and hours. Occasionally, my father would stop and tie a red string around a tree branch and then keep going. We walked deeper and deeper into the forest, farther than I’d ever gone before. Occasionally, I’d ask about the berries and he would grunt or say, “Soon, Isotta, soon we will find some.”
“I am tired,” I said at last. “Can we go home, Papa?”
He stopped walking and looked around. He shrugged as if he hadn’t made up his mind, then he faced me. I looked up into his face so tired yet still handsome, still the same blue eyes and blonde hair that he always had, if older. Still my father whom I loved very much. I loved him the best and that was probably because he and I looked a lot alike. You know what they say, birds of a feather…
“This is fine,” he said. “You rest and I will search for berries. If we
go home without them, Mama will be very upset.”
Yeah, I didn’t want that. If Mama was upset, then everyone was in trouble for something. So, I nodded and he walked me over to a tree that had part of its trunk missing and sat me there, in the hallowed-out part. He bent down and smoothed the hair out of my face and stared into my eyes for a long, long minute.
“Isotta,” he said. “You are my favorite. I love you very much.”
“I love you, too, Papa,” I said and threw my little arms around his neck, hugging him with all my might.
“You rest,” he said and removed my arms. “I will search for the berries.”
I nodded and nestled back into the hole and closed my eyes. Because I was so tired, I fell asleep. When I awoke, it was getting dark. How long had we walked and how long had I been asleep? I was cold and tired. I was hungry.
I looked around but didn’t see my father, so I called, “Papa?”
When he didn’t answer, I got up and stretched out my legs, then turned to my left and then to my right. It didn’t take me too long to realize he wasn’t there. But where was he?
“Papa!” I screamed, suddenly being overcome with panic. “PAPA!”
My voice echoed a little but was met with no response. Where was he? Where was I? I looked up at the sky, seeing just a little of it through the dense limbs of the gigantic trees. I looked around. I was alone and I knew it.
But I knew what to do. I was nothing if not resourceful. I remembered that my father had tied the red strings to trees as we entered the woods. The strings would lead me out of the forest and then home and then I could ask him why he’d left me alone like that. In addition to being overly panicked, I was slightly angry. How dare he? Didn’t he know that the woods were dangerous for little children?
“Papa?” I tried once more. No answer. I didn’t know yet that he wasn’t going to answer because he wasn’t there. He was gone. He’d left me.
Even though I was scared, I shrugged it off as best I could, deciding to deal with what this meant later and began to look for the red strings. I was a resourceful girl and knew that if I kept my head about me, I would be okay. I searched and searched for the red strings he’d tied to the tree limbs earlier but couldn’t find any. The sky was almost black when I realized he must have taken them with him when he came upon them again on his way out of the woods. Why would he have done that? I shook it off, not wanting to confront reason. Oh, but he angered me! I was beginning to not like him very much, to say the least.
With no other alternative, and trying not to panic, I attempted to try to and find my way out of the woods on my own. This was no easy task as it was pitch black and I was cold, tired and very, very hungry. I’d only had a small bit of porridge that morning. Now, there was nothing left, nothing on my stomach.
So, I started walking. I walked and walked and then realized I was just walking in circles, still coming back to the tree that had housed me during my nap. I went over to it and sat down and burst into sobs of rage, helplessness and self-pity. I cried for a very long time and then forced myself to sleep, knowing I would get out of the woods tomorrow when it was daylight and if something didn’t eat me before then.
But it was not to be. I could not find my way out of the woods. Looking back on it, Papa had probably walked in circles and backtracked around the forest to confuse me so I couldn’t get out. But I didn’t know that then. At first, I still had hope that I was just lost and that someone would come for me. I was sure that my father was getting a search party together and soon there would be many men in the woods calling my name, swinging lanterns around at night looking for me. Perhaps they were already here. Maybe they were just over there… Way over there, where I couldn’t see or hear them. I would stop sometimes and listen, then call out, “I am here! Find me!” I would beg them to please, please, please rescue me. There had to be someone coming for me. There had to be!
But what if they weren’t coming for me? I refused to succumb to that idea, to the panic that would follow if I did. I instead focused on survival and got the idea that I should begin to hunt for my food. I had already found water at a stream that ran down a small hill not far from my tree. I was overjoyed because I knew that if you followed the stream, it would come out somewhere. However, that didn’t happen. I walked and walked and walked and it just led me deeper and deeper into the woods. Soon, I was more confused than I had been. Where was I and why couldn’t I get out? I went back in the other direction and walked and walked and walked, still coming to nowhere. Soon, I gave up and walked back the other way and soon found my tree.
After a while I stopped trying to find my way out of the woods and would spend most days sobbing until I was so exhausted I’d fall asleep wherever I fell to the ground to take to my tears. Soon I realized that if there had been a search party, then they would have given up on me by then. Why couldn’t they find me? I am uncertain how long this went on or how long I was actually in the woods alone. It might have only been a few days before the real starvation process began. It might have been a few weeks. I don’t know how long I was in there. Besides, time didn’t matter when I was in those woods. Nothing mattered but getting out and getting something to eat. I knew if I didn’t leave the woods soon, a hungry animal of some sort would make me his supper.
The water sustained me but that’s all it did. The tree kept me from freezing to death but I stayed cold. Perhaps having these things just delayed the process of my death. I am uncertain. However, while I was very weak, and probably because I did have water, I still had my wits somewhat about me. I knew the only way for me to survive would be to kill and then eat an animal of some sort. I thought this might help me hang on until I was found. I occasionally saw squirrel and once a rabbit. Animals of this type would pass by from time to time, then scurry away, more frightened of me than I of them. But there was one animal in particular that would visit me regularly; it was this one deer, a huge buck with large antlers. He would see me, stare for a moment as if trying to figure out what I was, and then run away. I got it into my mind that if I caught him and killed him, I could feast for a week.
Yes, I was delusional. There was no way a little girl like me could take down a big animal like that with her bare hands, but hunger does that to you. It makes you believe things no rational human would ever believe.
Even so, I watched him for days and even tried to leap out at him. But he was quicker than me and probably smarter. I should have given up but I couldn’t. He became my reason for being. In my hunger-driven mind, he was what stood between me and death.
But then one night, probably towards the end, I fell against my tree and rested, breathing heavily as the starvation began its final assault. The water could only keep me alive for so long. I knew I was dying and I began to accept it. My eyes closed and when they opened again, it was night and there he was, my deer, standing in front of me, sniffing me. He wouldn’t bite, not like I would. He was curious. He’d seen me around these parts and wanted to know what problem I had with him.
We stared at each other for a long time, the beast and I. I reached up after a while and stroked the width of his nose. I don’t know why this wild animal allowed this, but he did. I petted him and he liked it. Maybe he knew I was too weak to harm him. Whatever the reason, we had a moment and bonded. But then his musky, animal scent got to me. I began to have visions of boiled meat and potatoes. It was almost funny. If I could have laughed, I would have. But I didn’t have the strength.
Then, as if on instinct, I leapt at him, grabbing at his neck with my mouth. He was startled and jumped, rising up on his hooves and tried to shake me off of him. I had known it might end like that but I had to try. What choice did I have? I was a goner and I knew that. It was only a matter of time so all bets were off.
I held onto his neck with my mouth for as long as I could and that wasn’t but a few seconds, then he did what wild animals do. He began to attack me with his antlers and with his hooves. He scooped my tiny little body up with his a
ntlers and threw me over to the side and then he descended on me as soon as I hit the ground.
I knew it was over for me. I just lay there and prepared for the worse. He came over and reared up to strike me with his hooves. I shielded my face and my entire body tensed, getting ready for him to kill me. But then, out of nowhere, something attacked him, swiftly grabbing onto him and throwing him off. The two things scuffled for a few minutes before the deer fell to the ground lifeless. I was so weak I didn’t even move when she rose up from behind the animal and stared at me.
For a second I thought she might be one of the people looking for me. But then I knew she wasn’t. Who was she? She was by herself, alone like me in the woods at night. She didn’t seem to have a problem with it, though, not like I did. I was still scared witless of all the noises in the night. I didn’t realize at the time that she was one of those noises in the night.
However, she was a beautiful woman and that disarmed me. Someone pretty like her wouldn’t hurt a little girl like me, would they? Her beautiful face was covered in the deer blood and it seeped out of her mouth and onto her chin. She was dark-haired and blue-eyed and wore a beautiful gown of dark blue silk. Such finery was never seen in our village. I was so out of my mind with starvation that I thought she must have been a witch or even a fairy, something out of this world, extraordinary. I’d heard tales of women like her, stories that used to frighten me and probably still would have had I not been so weak.
But then I saw that she was a person, like me, human. She was human. Looked human. But she looked very, very out of place in her fancy gown in the middle of the woods late at night. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. She was quite at home there in the woods.
She stared at me, helpless on the ground, and smiled, then jerked her head at the deer. “He is dead.”
Young Forever Page 2
