The Taking of Malory Blake

-I-

To know her was to love her. That was the most common thing anyone said of Malory Blake. She had been lovely and kind and genuine. A jewel of a girl with crimson curls and sky blue eyes. She had been a dancer, a scholar, but most importantly to Talia Blake, Malory had been a sister. Malory was the eldest of the two Blake girls, and to Talia, Malory was all she knew of the world.

Talia had come into the world, it seemed, at her sister's very wishes. At three, Malory had wanted nothing more than a little sister, and so the world gave her such. Talia, unlike her gentle sister, was born with a fierce nature and a strong sense of what was right and what was wrong. And the sudden disappearance of her beloved sister, was definitely very wrong.

Sisters had a way about them. The Blake sisters had an entire culture. Apart, they were two entirely different versions of normal, but together, they were worlds away in their strangeness. An outsider perhaps would say the sisters' bond was close . . . but odd. Anyone that knew them though, saw it for what it was; supernatural.

As if they had been made two parts, once whole together, each sister was completely aware the other in both mind and body. To hurt one, was to hurt both. One sister's thought was always a silent conversation between each. The sisters who adored each other, who protected, and loved one another had something special. Yes, certainly unusual, but beautiful none the less.

On the morning of October first, when the leaves in the quiet town of Crestwood had only just begun to yellow, the Blake sister's bond, was severed forever.

Talia Blake had woken with a start at precisely three A.M. Strangely, she had been born at three in the morning, and Malory at three in the afternoon. It was a special time for them, but in this moment of terror, there was no sense of comfort, only dread. For the first time in her life, Talia could not feel her sister in her heart or her mind. It was like someone had cut out a part of her, leaving a wound bleeding and pulsing with the absence of her sister. Talia's dark eyes, so unlike her sister's, watered as she gasped and clutched her chest as if she'd be able to feel it.

If it had been Malory, she would have been stunned. She would have froze in fear and pain and been unable to do anything. That was one of Malory's faults, she was too sensitive, to easily affected. Talia, however, had instincts for protection and preservation her sister lacked. Acting quickly, Talia jumped from her bed, she ran to the bathroom, to Malory's room, to the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, every room in the house. The elder Blake sister was nowhere to be found.

Mr. and Mrs. Blake only woke when they heard the back door slam. But by the time they found Talia, staring into the woods at the very edge of their backyard, it was too late. Malory was gone. In every sense. She was not in the house, and not in Talia. It was if she had died, and the Blakes found the fact that their youngest daughter could no longer feel Malory far more upsetting than the physical absence.

Promptly, the police were called, and for weeks, the Blakes and the men of the town searched the woods anyone scarcely ventured in search of Malory. Crestwood had a strange relationship with their woods. Surrounded all sides by woods, there was only one old road that lead to a high way that took people far, far away. The woods, while beautiful, and even arguably inviting, were feared. The Blake sisters were not the only oddities that belonged to Crestwood. Under the visage of small town perfection, lay secrets, and it was with heavy hearts that the citizens of Crestwood began to wonder, had Malory Blake become another secret?

Three months passed and no one had heard from Malory.

Winter came harsh, more so for the Blakes than anyone else, especially with a new year. They were to restart, with one less daughter than before and the uncomfortable awkwardness that their neighbors and friends regarded them with now that the rest of Crestwood was taking the opportunity of new beginnings to put Malory Blake in the past. She had been a darling girl. A good girl. Perhaps too good to last.

By the end of January, Mr. and Mrs. Blake cracked from social pressure and they buried an empty casket in Crestwood's only cemetery. The service had been morose and small, but a sense of relief came from the townspeople. They could finally begin to forget and begin to go back to the way things were. But for Talia Blake things would never be the same. Something was wrong, things weren't adding up. There had been no footprints, nothing missing from her room, no sign of forced entry, or even exit. No sign of struggle. She was just gone, like dust in the wind.

Even in a strange place like Crestwood, where the history was ancient and haunted, and something dark lingered in the woods, Talia could feel in the air, as clearly as she had once felt her sister, that Malory's disappearance was no such unexplainable oddity. This had been no mistake. Her sister didn't have some accident, the woods did not take her, it was more than that. Something fishy lingered in Crestwood and the wound in Talia's heart continued to weep, refusing to heal just yet. There was more to Malory's disappearance than anyone was able to see, and Talia Blake would get to the bottom of it. Dead or alive.