The Silence in Words

Chapter 1: Bad Reputation

     A woman who'd always walk the same path along the town at the same time; five o'clock in the morning, without a miss. The woman always dressed in black an white with her lips painted a deep blood red, her eyes covered by her silky blonde hair that cascaded flawlessly down her shoulders.

   "She was the image of beauty on Earth", said the townsfolk who got to take her beauty in, myself included. But not quite as I'd hoped.

     It was the winter of 1896, in a small school by the town's famous well.
Some said the well connected the living to the dead; which, quite frankly, seemed like nonsense to me.
It was just a well afterall.

In her younger years, like now, she had a routine.
She'd sit by the well in a small wooden bench. For a few minutes she'd admire the well, kicking her small feet softly as she didn't seem to mind the cold wind of dawn.
When the sun came up, she'd take a red rose petal out of her pocket and drop it in the well. She'd sit back down and write in, what I assumed to be, her journal. A little brown book with yellowish pages, filled with only the messy handwriting of an 11-year-old girl that, to a lot of people, would describe as... let's say, peculiar.

Everyone was always afraid of her. She was distant... lonely even. No one ever talked to her, she never talked to anyone. It was the way it'd always been and that's the way it remained.

I starred from the distance, examining her intriguing routine.
Peculiar events and people always attracted me; interested me.

And so went on every day, so went the days that turned to months and, pretty soon, months turned to years.
This time it was different, I was determined to talk to her; meet her.

Lady Mystery, as I'd nicknamed her. Incredible how no one even knew her name. Frankly, I always thought no one cared enough to ask.

One cold morning in December, as classes were coming to an end, I woke up extra early; despite the sleep-inducing climate of Portland, Maine on that cold winter day.

I walked to school before the sun was even up with my hair neatly combed, wearing my navy blue long coat to keep me warm.
I played with the lovely white rose I had collected from my mother's garden.

I arrived to school earlier than Lady Mistery herself that day and sat on the bench.

I waited for my mystery lady for half an hour, just sitting on the bench looking out as snowflakes fell from the sky, having to shake them off of me every once in a while.

After what seemed like an eternity, gentle footsteps approached.

I quickly stood up and smiled at her. She just stood there, starring at me. Her golden blonde hair covering her eyes; the rest of her long hair being picked up by the wind and floating through the wind.

   "Good morning", I said as my smile began to fade at her lack of sympathy.
She sighed as she kept walking toward the well, my gaze following her gentle footsteps.
   "What's so good about this morning? It's a morning like any other. Cold, lonely and just another day in our annoyingly short lives", her cold yet soft voice spoke as she walked past me, not even giving me a glance as she sat on the bench.

   "Well, that's why I came here today, that way you won't be so lonely", I said enthusiastically and sat back down.
  "I didn't ask for your company, whoever you are anyway", she said, starring at the well.

   "It's David", I said, trying not to scoff at her attitude, but my mother had always taught me to be a gentleman, specially to women.
We just sat in silence as the sun began to come up.
Like expected, she pulled a rose petal out of her pocket and walked to the well, I followed, taking a petal out of my own rose.

She mumbled incomprehensibly, seemingly in another language, as she dropped the petal into the frozen well.

At the touch of the petal against the ice, it unfroze, the petal floating for a moment and then sinking.

I starred at the water, wondering how on Earth that was possible.
I dropped my own, the water re-freezing as the petal floated down.

She turned around and sat back down, paying me no attention.
I did the same, sitting next to her, observing her as she opened her little brown notebook.

I squinted as I realized that there was only one thing written on all of those pages:
"Mercy McStein, 1462"
Then, under said name it read out:
"Walter McStein, 1476"

She began to doodle the same design on the new page. The same one as rhe rest, giving me a side glance and closing the book abruptly.

   "Avert your eyes from my business", she hissed.
   "Excuse you, I'm just trying to be your friend", I said annoyed and stood up, leaving my white rose on the bench and walked away.

     "I haven't talked to her since" I mutter to myself as snow began to fall, staining  the green grass white.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door; the first knock in three years.

   "Now who could that be?", I said and began walking towards the door.