People of Fae, Page 2

Lyssa

  Lyssa Cleverthorn had never been to a funeral before in any of her seventeen years. She’d never thought of going to one either. It’s something that’s supposed to happen to old people, not someone her own age.

  The diminutive town of Briarwood, Illinois was shaken to its core just a few days ago when a girl’s body was found along the marshy banks of a slough off the Mississippi River. She was badly beaten and almost torn to pieces that dental records had been used for identification.

  Rumors flew like squawking blackbirds through town. Everything from drug trafficking to relations with the mob, was speculated by the town’s people. The authorities quickly came to the conclusion that it was a mountain lion attack.

  Mountain lions are the big rage now, and said to be just a rumor, but large tracks had been found and livestock attacked proved otherwise. The girl was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time—a victim. The town where you could leave your door unlocked at night or parents letting their children run around freely, had ceased. A blanket of uncertainty had wrapped around the community.

  Lyssa dressed in a pair of black pants and a crinkly black shirt, looked outside from her second story bedroom window. She usually loved this time of year. Trees changing into brilliant oranges, reds and yellows are the mark of autumn. A grim presence had replaced the fondness she once had for this changing season.

  Stepping away from the window, she looked at herself in the mirror. Lyssa pulled up her curly, shoulder length, brown and very unruly hair with a rhinestone clip allowing a few wild strands to hang freely. She put more powder on her pale skin, and tried to cover the hundreds of thousand freckles that she hated—every last one of them. Even when told they were Angel Kisses by Zoey, her dad’s ex-girlfriend, couldn’t convince her. No matter how much she liked Zoey.

  The funeral wouldn’t start for another hour. Lyssa plopped on her bed and looked up at the grey sky through her skylight. She missed Zoey. Lyssa could talk to her about anything just like a real mom.

  Lyssa’s mother died when she was just a tiny baby. A house fire claimed her, only Lyssa and her dad were spared. With her mother gone before she even knew her, a black void was always there waiting to be filled. She thought Zoey was that filling, but like all the others, she left too.

  Holding onto a worn out teddy bear, Lyssa decided to comfort herself by going through her “moms” in chronological order.

  Julie was a teacher who helped her through grade school, Samantha a hairstylist that showed Lyssa how to do hair and make-up, Rebecca a chef that now has her own restaurant in New York told her all things are possible if you want them and gave her one recipe on how to make wicked good apple turnovers. The last of her “moms” was Zoey—everything she ever wanted in a mom.

  Zoey had no special degree or important job. She liked to sing, tell stories and go on walks. She listened to Lyssa no matter how stupid it was or insignificant. Zoey seemed to relish it, living each day as if it was the last until one day it was.

  A note left on the kitchen counter explained unresolved issues from Zoey’s past had to be dealt with and she’d be back soon. That had been a year ago. Lyssa didn’t hate her for this. All of her “moms” left at one point, but she felt a piece of her was gone, incomplete and left to die on the vine. Lyssa would survive though, as she always did.

  Her dad was what you would just call a father figure. He didn’t play ball with her when she was little, and barely made it to any school functions when she was in grade school. He provided the necessary material things, but something about him seemed distant.

  He was never mean—just never there and a perfect equation for the freedom every seventeen year old craves. That would be great, but Lyssa wanted something more. She wanted the connection that never sparked between father and daughter.

  Why couldn’t he have just hung on to Zoey and she might still be here. Maybe he had so many girlfriends for her benefit, to teach her things he couldn’t. Did he care that much? Talking to her dad was like talking to the refrigerator. It opened and the light was on, but it was always cold and just functional—nothing more.

  The hour of reflection had come to an end, and Lyssa went downstairs. She put on her black wool pea coat Samantha gave her. Every girl had to have one because it goes for about every occasion Samantha told her. This was the first occasion she was wearing it to. Lyssa then walked into the cool autumn air. Grey clouds lingered refusing to give way to the brilliant blue underneath it.

  Lyssa’s house was on the edge of city limits where it opened to the rural areas surrounding Briarwood. Her rugged A frame house with a split rail fence was surrounded by thousands of flowers, shrubs and other flowering things. Her dad was obsessed with plants or actually whatever bloomed or had leaves. She often wished her dad would treat her like he did his plants—with love and nurturing. But Lyssa wasn’t a plant and had no leaves.

  The funeral home was a few blocks away, but she made it in good time. It was crowded as expected. She got in line to get in where it was standing room only.

  Bright flowers blanketed the inside in contrast to the black clothed sea of people. It was dimly lit, and pictures of the girl slowly shifted on a large T.V. Pictures shifted from family, friends, school events, her pets, to vacations—all of them she was smiling. It appeared to Lyssa, she had a full life that was cut short. She didn’t really know the girl personally, but saw her at school and she always seemed happy. “I would be happy to die if I had an ounce of her family life.” Lyssa thought to herself, even though it was morbid.

  Mournful gasps, along with soft crying, mingled with the gentle music playing overhead. Lyssa couldn’t cry for the girl even though she felt bad that she’d never go to college, have a family of her own and grow old with someone she loved. Lyssa opened the folded piece of paper she was given when she came in. The girl’s picture was on the front and inside told about how she enjoyed basketball, cheerleading, animals and 4-H. Her name was Lynsay Montgomery and she was too young to die.

  Lyssa stood in the back as she saw people from her class. A quiet somber filled the air. Alone, and quietly tilting her head down as prayers were spoken and stories fondly remembering the girl said with sobs of sadness and poems trying to give comfort to those who suffer her loss. Lyssa felt bad, but couldn’t cry. She didn’t know the girl very well, and really didn’t belong to any of the cliques at school. She was like the weird, dark colored puzzle piece that you know didn’t belong to the beach scene puzzle, but to some other puzzle. Lyssa had yet to find that box, and she was beginning to think she never would.

  Suddenly, she felt eyes on her. Lifting her head, she glanced to the right then left to find the most magnificent green eyes looking at her. They held her for only a moment and then like a summer cloud drifting across the sky, they left her with a bag of mixed emotions.

  Those mysterious pools of green eyes belonged to Toby. Her face flushed and hormones raced. She had liked him for a long time and before her emotions got away, she remembered where she was at—a funeral of a girl her age.

  Lyssa pulled her eyes away and glanced at the ground. She then lifted her eyes to Toby one more time as subtle as she could. He wasn’t looking at her so she let her eyes rest on him for a moment longer.

  His hair was the color of chocolate and his eyes look like uncut gems that leave you mesmerized. Lyssa never talked to him, but lately she had caught him looking at her in not just a casual way, but something different.

  She looked one more time at Toby hoping to catch him in a glance. Instead, her eyes met with his girlfriend, Megan. She was blonde, popular and beautiful. Lyssa quickly looked away. She could never compete with her.

  Lyssa discreetly moved closer to the exit and left, but not before she said a small prayer for the girl who she couldn’t cry for. She wasn’t sure if she felt wrong for not crying, but she still felt the same sorrow for the girl and her family. With a silent “
amen” she left into the grey covered sky.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about Toby. How their eyes met in the most sudden and enchanting way that could lead to conversation, but never did. It’s just as well. Toby was beautiful and perfect along with his beautiful and perfect girlfriend. They are Barbie and Ken and she was the generic, spinoff of a dime store Barbie with the dumb expression on her face, not nice like the genuine one. She’s a Barbie wannabe. Lyssa put her thoughts away. She had to think of something else to cool her emotions. She still hadn’t planned anything for dinner yet—that would take the edge off her feelings as well as doing the dishes afterwards.

 

  The clouds thickened letting a few drops of rain fall to the ground. A large drop went splat right on top of Lyssa’s head. It ran down the back of her neck making her shiver. She pulled her coat tighter. The well-manicured lawns, paved roads and security of people close by, gave way to fenced pasture grounds and slightly brushy areas with tall grass and a thicket of thorny hedge trees now lined the road.

  Lyssa house was more than a block away. Distant thunder rumbled threatening the promise of rain. Lyssa feared her wool pea coat would be ruined if she got caught in the rain. Quickening her pace, she thought she heard the patter of feet behind her. She stopped, looked around and saw nothing. Again, another raindrop plopped on her head. Again from behind, a warning of something more than just thunder—something was in the tall, swaying grass.

  Growling erupted from the thick timber. Lyssa couldn’t see what it was, but it was coming in her direction. The strengthening wind broke a dead limb that was quickly swallowed by the tall, delicate grass. More growls and what she thought must be paws of an animal, thumped on the ground. Her heart pounded in her chest. Whatever it was definitely was coming after her, and all she could think was mountain lion.

  Reports of Lynsay Montgomery’s death ran through her head. Her body was practically mauled, only identified through dental records, Lyssa’s dad who never paid any attention to her, would he even know she was gone? Only if there was no food in the house.

  She ran as fast as she could in her slightly heeled boots. Her run felt like she was in a nightmare when you couldn’t run any faster than a walk no matter how hard you tried. Rain began to come down in a steady pace.

  She didn’t look behind her, only kept her eyes fixed on the road and then her front door. The patter of feet thumped like a heart behind her throwing gravel into the air with each step. With her door in sight, she turned the knob thankful she forgot to lock it, and slammed it shut.

  Leaning against it, she caught her breath. Everything was quiet except for the rain outside. Lyssa felt stupid and shook her head laughing slightly at her own imagination. Why would a mountain lion be in this area anyhow? They like seclusion, to be sneaky and not seen by people. Her and her stupid scaredy-cat imagination. Then, something thumped on the door. Lyssa held her breath and whatever it was, began to scratch desperately. The scratching stopped followed by a pitiful meow.

  “Beyoncé,” Lyssa said, opening the door to her tabby cat.

  She picked up Beyoncé scratching her head as she purred. “Sorry kitty,” she said letting the cat down.

  The cat jolted as soon as Lyssa let go of her. A cold wind gust funneled through the open door. Lyssa turned to shut it when all she seen was fur, teeth and claws coming at her. She fell to the hard wood floor with a thud. She would have screamed, but the air had been knocked from her lungs.