The Mystery of Ariella

Nine: Not Guilty

NINE:

She dreamed of a paradise, where jagged rock blending with green rolling hills. In the middle was a castle, its tough brick was decaying and falling apart from all of the years standing in one place. She heard the voices around her, whispering in her ears, luring her over to the wooden doors of the castle. It was small compared to the ones in all of the stories and books. A shadow glimmered in front of her, casting a golden glow to the dark ash it was being held in. It spoke in a cool voice, without any hint of hesitation or emotion. The words started to slur and bend as she tried to listen. She closed her eyes to try and shut out the cloud of shining ash in front of her. Opening her eyes relieved her. The dream was casted in a new location, one with buildings lining milky canals and locals yelling in an unknown language. A tall boy ran past her, grabbing her hand as he led her to the waters edge, his brown hair dulled by the clouded skies. As she moved her fingers through the water, the boy looked up at her, with eyes green as grass.

      “I love you Ariella.” He grinned, his voice cracking.

      Ariella tilted her head, reflecting the same smile back at him.

      “I love you too, Ross.”

She awoke in her bed, her head still throbbing from the night before. As she sat up, the pain worsened. Sweat rolled down her face in beads and her fought to catch her breath. Her feet reached the edge of the bed and onto the floor.  Her stomach twisted and turned as if she had swallowed thousands of knives. If she would have been in a hangover, this must have been what it felt like.

      The hallway was empty and cold, her grandmother must of have been asleep in her room. Ariella lazily stepped across the hallway; her feet were too heavy to try to be silent.

      The kitchen was silent, no sound of sizzling bacon, or cooking pancakes. Ariella looked into the fridge and pulled out a cold bagel from a bag. She sat down at the table, eating away at the stale bread. She closed her eyes, trying to remember what happened last night. She had fallen asleep at the willow, and then woke up in her bed. She itched to go out and look around the willow again. To see if there was any memory she was missing. After she finished eating, she glanced around the room. And then something caught her eye. On the table was a note, neatly scribbled in Mag’s curly font.

Dear Ariella,

      I got the note from the jury saying they have made their decision. They have also recommended that you wouldn’t be there for your hearing. I’ll call the house on my way back; I hope you can forgive my decision to leave you.

~Mag

      Ariella read the note silently over the counter as birds chirped outside in the morning sun. She threw the note hastily on the floor and walked out the front door, reluctantly grabbing her jacket on the coat hanger besides her.

“Please your honor, you can’t do this, she’s just a child.” Mag whimpered, putting up her hands in prayer.

      The judge sighed, leaning back in his leather chair. “Mag, you should be happy that we aren’t sending her to jail for the crimes she committed.”

      “But she didn’t do them.”

      The judge rubbed his temple in annoyance. “Mag. Please, we’ve been over this countless times. Your granddaughter is deemed guilty for the murders of Brielle and Jackson Hite. The evidence cannot prove that anyone else did it. No other fingerprints, no break in reports, no suspects other than Ariella.”

      Mag ducked her head before the judge, showing the bones of her neck. She slowly put her hands in her head, thinking of the people Ariella might meet.