Childhood's hour

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May the owls carry my name over the midnight ark into the silent whisper of a morning prayer. For uncanny bridges in twenty first centuries bare no foundation in holy necromancies.
-C.R. Williams

Chapter 1

Up, up, up she goes.
Down, down, down she goes while she closes her eyes and throws her head back to allow the sun’s caress.
On her face.
On her hair.
On her crooked skinny legs and  small dirty feet.

" Go higher!"

A far away voice shouts from below as she again goes up, up, up into the pale blue sky.
What is this feeling? She wonders. Does it have a name? The tickle in her tummy, the swing in her legs, the peaceful numb in her arms and the cool breeze on her neck.
It is then that she opens her eyes to glimpse at her hands and see if they are still holding onto the rope or if she perhaps, just perhaps, took flight in ascension far beyond the clouds.
It might as well be so, but with her eyes not allowing her to see straight, it’s quite hard to tell. It is this feeling she has. This feeling inside. This feeling with no name. 

" Lisa! Get down from there and go wash your hands. Food is on the table."

A different, more stern voice now shouts from below.
Food? There is no place for food here. There is only staying on this swing and swinging as high as humanly possible in the venture to personally knock on heaven’s door.
Come on, chop, chop.
That voice speaks again and Lisa’s heart sinks to her feet. Perhaps another time then. As for now she better hurry up and get down from the swing.
This place Lisa lays her head at night has very little kindness to offer and is as such not always filled with love and acceptance or even the occasional fun and games. It is not a home in the least, but it sure beats where she comes from, Lisa ponders as she allows the swing to come to a halt and reluctantly hop off and onto the ground
The plan was to never get off the swing again. The yearning to stay in the wind, step onto a cloud and see where it takes her almost too much to bare. The dream is to find a place somewhere very high up in the sky. Far, far away from here.
For all she knows, this place might even be called freedom.
Lisa continues dreaming as she drags her lazy bones on the narrow dirt path down to the wooden gate separating her from reality.
Reality.
She’s not yet ready for what reality brings, but then again, who is? Reality does as reality is and it rarely falls in with anyone’s plans. 
Protect your heart.
The old man said
Don’t drag it into these things. These things of this world.
And in this moment she’s really thankful for the small miracle beating inside camouflaged as her heart.
Protect.
She murmurs whilst pressing one dirty hand on her heart as if it be some kind of protective spell placed upon something rather valuable.
Yes, even at the tender age of ten, Lisa somehow already knows all too well about the how’s , when’s, where’s and whatnot’s. Trouble may be looking for her, but it sure as sun won’t  find her.
Not tonight anyway.

Every evening after dinner  at the orphanage, it is always the same old story and without thinking Lisa gets up from behind the table, pushes the chair back and blindly starts the  task at hand. The stacking of dirty dishes.
One on top of the other.
Dirty plates, knives, forks and empty cups.
One on top of the other.
Used napkins and a used dishcloth.
She stacks them all up and just when it starts to resemble something much like the tower of Pisa, she picks it up and carries it into the kitchen. The weight almost too heavy to bare for small arms such as hers and for just a moment she doubts if she will make it.
But she does.
And with a loud thud she puts the stack of dirty dishes down on the counter.

" One on top of the other."

She softly tells herself as she turns around to walk back upstairs and get ready for bed but, again life shows her that life is as life does, because much to her surprise, she doesn’t get very far.
Barely two steps from the door out of absolute nowhere, three colourful birds swoosh past her head and into the kitchen just to turn around and fly straight past her again.
This gives Lisa such a fright that she rushes her hands up to her face, shuts her eyes and freezes on the spot. One doesn’t want to tumble and fall now.

Lisa's Odyssey: Lisa And The Lost Guardians Where stories live. Discover now