Children of Cernunnos

by Matthew Fish

  “Elise?” Ryan asked as he spotted her through the doorway to the dining room.

  “Yes?”

  “Would you like to walk with me outside?” Ryan asked as he wore a confident smile that was almost a smirk.

  “I would, of course, if that is okay with you, grandmother,” Elise answered as she turned toward grandmother, awaiting a reply.

  Grandmother still appeared in a state of slight shock upon seeing the youth once more, for she said nothing and simply stared off into his eyes as though they were familiar windows into the past.

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” Mrs. Alice answered for grandmother as she reached over and gave her wrinkled hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Yes, of course,” grandmother added with another brief, strained smile.

  Outside, the sun had disappeared into the water leaving behind only an orange smear across the dark blue sky. Tiny stars emerged above them as the ground was lit by the dull grey moon, which gave the grass the bluish-white appearance of fresh snow. They began to walk upon the rough gravel walkway surrounded by oaks that swayed and danced in the gentle wind. Fireflies lit up like tiny fireworks around the pair.

  Elise watched in awe at the multitude of the fireflies at play. Back in the city it was common to see perhaps a handful—here, there were hundreds if not thousands putting on a grand display to which every other showing of light made by the hand of man pale in comparison to the beauty of which nature is so capable.

  “So,” Elise said as she turned to her companion, attempting to think of something to break the ice. “Did you come from the city?”

  “I came from much farther,” Ryan replied. “A different place….”

  “What was it like?”

  “Pretty much the same as every other place in a sense,” Ryan answered as he rubbed his chin with his thumb. “I tend to believe that it is not the place that is really any different, but the people who live there.”

  “Were there good people that lived there?”

  “Good and bad,” Ryan said as he let out a short laugh. “They’re interchangeable really, wouldn’t you agree? You’re from the city, right? Not originally though, your grandmother told me from…from somewhere farther south. Would you say that the people you’d lived around were good, or bad?”

  “They treated me badly at times because I was an outsider,” Elise answered, her eyes turning away as she remembered a few sad moments from the past. “However, there was good in people, they just would hide it behind their cruelty.”

  “And how have you been treated here?”

  “Differently, yes,” Elise answered. “Everyone here has treated me with kindness. However…”

  “However?”

  Elise paused; she did not want to mention what had happened to her. Yet, she wanted to give an honest answer. “There was some bad here, but it is gone now.”

  “So all people are capable of both good and bad,” Ryan said. “How about evil?”

  “I’ve seen evil….”

  “Here, or back in the city?” Ryan asked.

  “Both…,” Elise whispered, her voice trailing into the night.

  “I am sorry that I brought it up, then,” Ryan quickly said as he placed a hand upon Elise’s bare shoulder. “Think of it no further.”

  “All right,” Elise said as she smiled at his warm touch.

  “What do you like about living here?” Ryan asked as he looked off behind them in the distance toward Red Manor, the lights from the tall windows illuminating the immediate area and casting heavy shadows against the surrounding oaks.

  “I like a lot of things,” Elise said as she thought back to her time thus far on the island, “The sound of the birds in the morning, the cool nights—if I leave my window open a crack I can hear the waves against the shoreline. I like the oaks, and the goats, the smell of the wood in the house on a hot day. The shade beneath my mother’s grave.”

  “I am sorry about that as well,” Ryan said as he shook his head, “It seems as though I am stricken with the curse to not be able to hold a conversation without bringing you some degree of sadness.”

  “I’ve come to accept it,” Elise said as she looked to Ryan and let a gentle smile creep across her face.

  “You are a strong person,” Ryan said as he returned the smile.

  “How about you?” Elise asked. “You’ve lost your father, grandmother said.”

  “So long ago I do not even remember it,” Ryan answered simply. “The same with my mother—I have no memory of her either.”

  “I’m sorry that you never had the chance to know them,” Elise said as attempted to form an image of her mother’s face in her mind. She found some slight difficulty in producing a proper image and that concerned her greatly. She had already lost her father’s face long ago—she had feared for the moment that she could not recall her mother’s either.

  “You know,” Ryan started as he looked at Elise, his eyes slit as though he was attempting to discover some kind of secret. “You are not at all like I had expected. You do not seem your age at all.”

  “You had expectations of me?” Elise asked, not sure how to properly take the observation. “I suppose I do not act like girls my age because I am bothered by how they act.”

  “Please understand—I meant it only as a compliment,” Ryan added. “And, to answer your first question, I did. I had formed some idea in my mind of what you would be like, what you might look like. After all, I had met your grandmother many times and had seen pictures of your mother.”

  “In the house?” Elise asked, for she had not seen a single picture of her mother in Red Manor and found that truth rather unsettling.

  “Before, yes,” Ryan answered, “when I was younger.”

  “So, those expectations…,” Elise said playfully. “Do I meet them?”

  “I’ll let you know in five days…on your birthday.”

  “Fair enough,” Elise said, although the return seemed rather cryptic and unusual to her. Perhaps he did not know her well enough yet.

  Elise finds herself collapsed upon the floor and deeply exhausted. Above her, on the cot, the corner of the green suitcase juts above Elise as she struggles to focus her vision. She can feel the cold metal key in hand and remembers that she was just about to open the suitcase before the memory had stolen her away from the task.

  She places her hands against the wood floor and pulls herself back up to her feet. Upright and steady once more, she attempts to swat the dust from her knees of her dirty dress before realizing that there is no point in doing so and that she is just going through the motions out of habit. Elise returns her attention to the suitcase, pushing it upright and placing the metal key into the lock and giving it a turn. It clicks open in quick submission, and the two halves of the suitcase unfold before her like a butterfly’s wings. The inside of the suitcase is lined in brown felt and smells faintly of sandalwood, however, save for a single faded, slightly tattered red book, the case is empty.

  “Is this what I am looking for?” Elise mouths as she carefully handles the delicate-looking old book. She runs her hand along the cover as embossed white letters spell out The White Stag. There is no author name listed beneath the title nor along the cracked spine.

  “Is it what you are looking for?” a voice comes from across the room.

  Elise drops the book to the floor in shock as she sees a familiar form sitting in the old leather chair next to the writing desk. “Ryan?”

  “Elise…,” Ryan adds.

  “You haven’t aged a day,” Elise says as she looks to the youth. He looks exactly as she remembers him, dressed in the same brown suit he wore on the day of his arrival to Red Manor when they first met.

  “One could say the same for you,” Ryan says as he calmly remains seated. He folds a leg over a knee and rests his hands against the sole of his black shoe.

  “I do not look older?” Elise asks, confused.

  “Perhaps I do not perceive time in a similar fashion,” Ryan answers
as he shrugs.

  “Are you the one who is bringing the memories?”

  “You haven’t figured that part out yet?” Ryan asks giving Elise a strange look. “It is not me. I assure you.”

  “Are you a ghost? Like grandmother?”

  “I am open to that possibility,” Ryan answers as he looks toward the ice-covered window. “This is really all about you, though—however, I suspect you do not remember that part yet.”

  “I know I had to come back.”

  “You chose to do so, yes.”

  “Please just tell me why,” Elise pleads to her old friend. At least, she feels that they are friends. Some part of her memory tells her that they are close, or perhaps were at one time.

  “I wish I could ’Lisey,” Ryan says as he keeps his gaze affixed to the frozen window. “There are more things you must remember before we can speak again.”

  “Come with me?” Elise asks, although somehow she knows that he will refuse.

  “I cannot leave this room,” Ryan answers as he looks to Elise once more, his grey eyes gleaming in the light of the desk lamp. “It is a condition of my being here.”

  Elise stumbles back a moment as though the color of Ryan’s eyes holds some significance that she cannot quite remember, as though it is just out of the clutches of her memory. She reaches for her lantern and begins to head out.

  “The book,” Ryan says.

  “What of it?” Elise says as she turns to face Ryan. A shiver runs down her spine as the realization that he has not aged fills her already troubled and confused mind.

  “Take it with you,” Ryan answers, “It is a gift.”

  Elise reaches for the book and places it beneath her armpit. “Thank you…. It is good to see you again.”

  “Likewise, of course,” Ryan whispers, his voice barely carrying across the room.

  Elise exits the guest room and shuts the door behind her. She is all the more vexed at this new revelation that both her grandmother and Ryan now occupy the house she was sure was completely vacant. The hallway is dreadfully cold; the warmth from the guest room that once filled her body is escaping her. Shivering, she holds the lantern closer, hoping to steal away a bit of warmth as her arms begin to tremble.

  What do I do next? Elise wonders, placing her free hand to her head in frustration. Her body is sore from each memory—it is as though they are ripping away parts of her very existence with each new revelation that they bring. If only I could remember why I returned here, then I…

  “I don’t know,” Elise whispers. She cannot remember where she was before she found herself by the window in her old room. She cannot recall how she had arrived here. Still, she must press on. Soon she will become too cold, the frigid air will surely claim her life as it steals what meager energy she has left, that which the memories have not claimed. She thinks to return to the guest room once more, to press Ryan for more answers and feel the warmth of the room, yet realizes that this would be a futile exercise only prolonging the inevitable.

  Elise makes her way back toward the spiral stair. She looks over the wooden railing; the fog that once inhabited the third floor has dissipated. Through the dim light of her lantern she can see all the way down to the first floor. For a brief moment she catches a glimpse of something moving on the first floor, a shadow perhaps, maybe even a reflection from the light of her lantern. The possibility that it may be something more draws her down. She is careful as she descends as the stairs have deteriorated in their advanced age.

  To her comfort, she reaches the first floor of Red Manor without incident. She holds the lantern high and attempts to make out something in the blackness. The darkness is so thick here that the light from her lantern can barely penetrate a few feet. The air here is strangely hot, as though there is a fire—however; the air seems clean and her breathing remains unhindered. A charcoal swirl of smoke dances into view before disappearing into the inky blackness around her. It smells of burnt wood, a bonfire on a summer night. Perhaps somewhere on the first floor the house is ablaze, yet how could there be fire with an absence of light?

  Just as she ponders light, it comes by way of the kitchen, almost as if summoned into existence. Through the black smoke a presence can be heard swiftly approaching her, a rapid padding of footfalls sounding against the hot wooden floor. Beams of brilliant light filter through the smoke, almost giving an ever-changing form to the light. Elise sets down the lantern and book as she is faced with the radiant aura; she balls her hands and bites the bottom of her lip nervously as the cold light overtakes her. All is nothing.

  “It’s good, you making time again with me here in the kitchen,” Mrs. Alice said as she smiled widely at Elise. “I do have to admit to enjoying your company and have missed it these past two days.”

  “Sorry?” Elise asked, she was busy chopping away at a rather large carrot and was somewhat lost in thought.

  “You thinkin‘ about that boy in the guestroom,” Mrs. Alice said as she laughed, her entire body quivering in delight. “I know—I’ve seen you two out on your nightly walks. Surprised you two aren’t doing chores together today as well.”

  “He went into town with grandmother to fetch some supplies,” Elise said as she finished up and began to cut into a handful of fresh shallots.

  “Probably getting supplies for your birthday party,” Mrs. Alice said as she wiped the sweat from her brow with a towel that hung on the strap of her pink-and-white-striped apron. “Not that you got that information from me, of course, ’Lisey.”

  “Will there be many people?” Elise asked. Most of her birthday parties back on the mainland were small affairs. She did not have many friends, fewer ones than perhaps she even counted as friends—there were those that feigned niceness but spoke poorly of her when they thought she was not around. She had this happen on more than one occasion. On previous birthdays, it was mostly just her and her mother, a cake and some music from an old record player, and then, depending on their financial situation, a small present—a dress one year, a book another. Some years it would be just a chocolate bar or something small with the promise of something better when their situation improved.

  “I suspect that most of the help, hired hands, and the handful of residents here on Black Tern Island will come out. Shoot, most of them will come around for any opportunity to break into our beer and whisky barrels in the still. But they’re all good folk for the most part so I’m not really complaining. Is there anyone you want to invite from your old school—friends, perhaps?” Mrs. Alice asked as she began to boil a pot of water for her freshly peeled potatoes.

  “No one,” Elise said softly. “I think it would be better if anyone from my past were not here.”

  “Fair enough,” Mrs. Alice said, allowing a frown to grace her face for a moment but not letting it linger long. “Well, I will definitely be attending, as will young Mr. —and grandmother, of course.”

  “Then that is enough to make me happy,” Elise said in a muted tone. There was one person she did wish would be there, however, it was an impossible wish—her mother. Elise would have enjoyed having her mother here at Red Manor, celebrating her fifteenth birthday with all these new friends and nicer people.

  “Can’t believe our little ’Lisey will be turning fifteen in just two days,” Mrs. Alice said as she continued with her meal preparations. “I remember my fifteenth birthday—I grew up in a large family, there was ’bout six of us kids and, boy, were we a handful to our parents. I was the oldest, so I was in charge of taking care of the chaos; managed chaos, if there is such a thing. However, on my birthday it was more of a free-for-all—my mother baked for us about the biggest cake I had ever seen in my life and I would say only about one-third of that cake made it into our mouths and the rest covered our clothing. Luckily, it was an outdoor party or I am sure that we would have all came upon the knee and cane that evening no matter if it were my birthday or not!”

  “Was it nice growing up in a large family?” Elise asked, feeling saddened.


  “It had its ups and downs,” Mrs. Alice said, noting the tone in Elise’s voice. “Wasn’t an easy childhood by any means, not for people of our disposition, if you take my meaning. But we made a good life for ourselves and we stuck together as a family. Kind of like what we got going on now with you here.”

  “It is strange to have so many people around,” Elise added as her mind lingered back to thoughts of her mother. Growing up, it had always just been Elise and her mother—men would come and go briefly into and out of their lives. Usually the relationships were so short that Elise took little note of them. Elise never blamed her mother for her continued, yet mistake-riddled, search for happiness—in fact, to the opposite, she hoped that one day her mother would find happiness. Looking back, she realized that her mother had a rather sad life in a way. Despite the company of Elise, she had little in the form of reliability or a sense of something constant—concrete—in life. They were frequently moving around the city—like mice they scampered home-to-home as her mother switched from job to job in an attempt to eke out a living. A growing concern came once more. If life was so hard in the city, why had her mother never returned here? “Did…did grandmother not get along with my mother?”

  “Their relationship was a complex one, child,” Mrs. Alice replied as her tone quieted, became wistful. “Something that aught none of my business though…”

  “Why are there no pictures of my mother?” Elise pressed.

  “Your mother wanted little to do with this life here on Black Tern Island that her mother had set out for her,” Alice said with a heavy sigh. She lowered her voice as though she knew the topic was one meant to be kept hidden away like an old secret locked in a dusty box. “She took to the city as much as possible as a teen, even without permission.”

  “Why did she dislike it here?”

  “Couldn’t say for sure, really,” Mrs. Alice said as she sat against a chair that creaked in quiet protest against her robust weight. “I suppose that to someone your age that lived their entire life on this island there isn’t much to see or do. There are a few other residents that live on the north side, mainly fishermen. The island itself is hardly but two miles wide at the most. I’d imagine that you could see all about there is to see here in less than a day. So, for your mother, I believe it was more of a freedom issue. She did return, about a month before…well.”