<—Part 5
Epilogue
A chill sank into the air, bringing with it a bitter edge to the passing autumn. A scraggly green field faded out to browned dullness as it carpeted the listless park. Trees, once boisterous and full with the flush of summer, now flamed brilliant in the last throes of red and orange, littering the ground below with the first fallen casualties of the changing season. The park lay empty of people, and silent but for the occasional passing overhead of migratory birds.
Nestled away in a meadow more dark and dormant than the rest of the park, a lone dog waited. The wind ruffled her golden fur, tangled now from time and neglect. The rare times she rose to pace, her underlying frame pushed against old skin, malnourished. Her tags, now dull with rust, clinked as she shuffled back and forth across the meadow, the forlorn sound echoing into the emptiness.
The residents of the neighborhood knew who she was, and once upon a time, a few folks had even made attempts to coax her from her vigil. After the first month, they had given up trying to adopt her. The second month, they’d called animal control, and thought the problem had been handled and the dog had gone to a rescue. When the third month passed, and the canine reappeared, they decided to leave her be.
The memory of the woman who used to go jogging with the golden retriever seemed to have faded from active thought, but the residents did what they could. Every once in a while, someone would leave some food for Phoebe, though no one ever recalled seeing her eat it. It vanished all the same, with nothing to show for it but the continued vigil of a loyal companion. Police never solved the mystery surrounding the woman’s disappearance. Foul play was suspected, but there had never been enough evidence to pursue. The first year, a team had searched the clearing and surrounding woods, convinced the dog’s vigil related to the woman’s body. But despite the canine’s stubborn refusal to leave, no body had ever been recovered. No traces of violence, either.
For her part, Phoebe never left the meadow. As time continued to pass, one month to the next, one year after another, the local residents spotted her less frequently. She became a whispered story children would tell each other over camping trip bonfires. As some urban legends do, the story of the ghost-dog became a warning of sorts to girls regarding the dangers of running alone.
By the time my family moved into the neighborhood, people had gone silent on the whole incident. It wasn’t until I was 13 or so, that I’d finally understood how strange that meadow was, and that no matter how hard I tried, I would never be able to pet the dog. After all, how does one touch a ghost?
I alone seemed to see it as something lovely, secret, and magical. Most of the rest of the world only saw a barren pocket of lifelessness. The other neighborhood kids would poke fun at me for wanting to play in such a creepy area, when even on a dare they would refuse to go near it.
And then when I was 15, my parents finally told me about our family’s strange secret. We were gifted with a sixth sense and a knack for magic. I wouldn’t have believed it had I not had the past couple of years with my ghost dog to tell me otherwise.
I don’t think they had even meant to tell me at all, except that on that day a strange woman showed up on our doorstep. She looked young, maybe only a year or two older than me, but there was an aura about her that made me think she hadn’t been young in a very long time. She was ethereal to look at, but I shivered as I stared at her. To say she was lovely wouldn’t do her justice. Not with her ice-pale skin and silvered hair that glittered like frosted crystal. Her hazel eyes even shimmered with a gem-like gleam. When she turned her attention from my mom to me, I swallowed nervously.
“Ah.. please excuse my daughter’s rudeness.” My mother shot me an accusatory look. She really had taught me better manners than this.
The woman nodded, and I wondered if she was capable of smiling. I could almost feel the heaviness of her sadness, and found my eyes drifting from her face to the choker she wore. I was mesmerized by the liquid shift of color in the deep garnet.
“Terra!” I jerked out of my reverie and blushed. My mom frowned at me, waiting.
“Umm..?” I shifted from one foot to the next, awkwardly looking from my mom to the beautiful stranger.
My mom sighed, and turned her attention back to the stranger. “I apologize again… she’s normally much better than this. This is my daughter Terra, and she will help you get settled in. We’ll do what we can to help, but I’m afraid I haven’t seen anything unusual in the four years we’ve been here. I wish I had more information for you, but there it is.”
The stranger nodded, her gaze sliding to me in assessment. I found myself blushing and straightening my shoulders, and then growing angry when I realized a part of me actually wanted to impress this beautiful stranger. When she stepped toward me, hand outstretched in a formal greeting, I froze in place, my cheeks turning brighter.
“My name is…” and here the woman paused, and it was that moment that I knew whatever she said next would be a lie. “…Raven.” The word came out in a sad whisper, and I looked down, fighting the sudden urge to hug her. Awkwardly, I accepted her outstretched hand before looking up.
My mother cleared her throat and there was a note of disapproval to the sound. “You at least look young enough to pass off as a visiting cousin. Maybe an exchange student. But we’re going to have to do something with your look. The best salon in the world couldn’t produce that effect.” She indicated the woman’s hair with a gesture.
The woman nodded and looked at me, a question in her eyes. With a start I realized she was looking yo me for guidance, not my mom. I suppose it made sense. If we were apparently passing her off as someone near my age, she’d input input from the appropriate source. I wanted to reach out and touch her hair, and the thought had me blushing all over again. Instead, I tried to smile with a confidence I in no way felt as I glanced to my mom for permission. When she realized I wasn’t going argue or ask a dozen questions, a little of the stiffness in her posture melted away and she nodded in encouragement.
“Easy-peasy. With a name like Raven, why not go Poe?” I mentally congratulated myself on the cleverness. When the woman didn’t respond, I realized from her expression that she had no idea what I was talking about. I sighed, wondering what rock she’d been living under to not get that reference.
“We’ll go a little goth, k? How about dying your hair black? With that pale skin, you’d be perfect for the look. We should probably goth out your wardrobe, too.” The image I conjured in my head had me blushing, and I quickly banished it. I was expecting some level of resistance, but didn’t expect the fleeting look of sadness in the woman’s eyes just before she nodded. I was shocked when she whispered something that sounded like That was her hair color, too. I was pretty sure my mom hadn’t heard the words, they were uttered so quietly.
I shifted awkwardly, not sure what came next. My mom saved me by taking command.
“Terra, how about you figure out what you’ll need for the makeover while I make our guest a cup of tea? She might be with us for awhile, and I want to make sure she has everything she needs.”