Kristen Day - Forsaken

Probably not the best time to bring up my nightmares. “It was pretty uneventful, I guess.”

“That’s definitely a good thing when all you have between you and the ground is several miles of air,” she chuckled. A nervous laugh escaped my lips as we began navigating through the airport.

Glancing sideways at her, I couldn’t help but think about how normal she seemed. What exactly did Dr. Campbell mean when she said ‘young people like me’? Is everyone here going to be blacking out randomly during the day and screaming through nightmares at night? That didn’t seem very likely.

“I was thinking we’d grab something to eat and talk a little bit before getting to the island.

How do you feel about pizza?” She asked with a smile. She appeared very at ease in her own body and acknowledged each person we passed with a nod or smile. She had a glow of happiness that reached out to others, making them smile with her.

“That sounds wonderful,” I admitted. “I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast.” It was almost dinnertime and my stomach was growling loudly. I would be surprised if she couldn’t hear it.

My eyebrows shot up as we stepped outside and Kira gestured towards a white Jeep Wrangler with oversized tires waiting at the curb. I didn’t know what I was expecting. Maybe a taxi? Or a van?

“Your chariot awaits madam.” She tossed my carry-on into the back seat and I realized we hadn’t picked up the rest of my luggage. I glanced back towards the doors and turned to say something to Kira.

“The rest of your bags are being taken care of, they’ll be waiting on you when you get to the school.” I had tried not to bring every piece of clothing I owned, but it was difficult. After stuffing four bags full of clothes and shoes, I wasn’t looking forward to carrying them all over Wilmington, so the fact that I wouldn’t have to was wonderful.

I literally climbed up into the passenger seat while Kira put on silver aviator sunglasses and grinned at me. She started the jeep and we bounced onto the streets of Wilmington. Several minutes later, we parked in the lot of a small pizza shop. We found a vintage-looking wrought iron table outside and Kira ordered peach flavored sweet tea. I decided to give it a try too.

Even though I couldn’t tell how close we were to the beach, I could smell the hint of salt water in the air. It was just as humid as Georgia, but much more bearable thanks to a light breeze blowing. I took a deep breath and felt myself relax for the first time in what felt like years. I could get used to the leisurely pace of the beach. Everyone who meandered by on the sidewalk was sun-kissed and smiling without a care in the world. A sizzle of excitement ran through me as I thought about the new chapter in my life I was about to begin.

“So, what do you do at the school?” I questioned. She looked too young to be a teacher or administrator.

“I’m considered something like a graduate student and we get credits for mentoring incoming students. I definitely got lucky with my first assignment,” she said, winking at me.

“How long do you mentor me?”

“For as long as you need me,” she answered simply, “So, how much do you know about the House of Lorelei?”

“Honestly, not a whole lot. All I know is that it’s year round, on an island, and the kids there are….like me?” I was hoping she could shed some light on that last part. A part of me sighed in relief knowing Kira would be my mentor. Feeling a little vulnerable for some reason, I absently looked down at my hands…and gasped. My ‘tattoo’ was…shimmering? I twisted my wrist back and forth; squinting to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. Yep, it was definitely doing something weird. Just then, the waitress came back with our drinks. Instinctively, I placed my other hand over it to hide it momentarily. The waitress gave me a weird look, but kept walking to the next table.

“Can I see?” Kira’s eyes danced with excitement.

“Uh…it usually doesn’t…do…that.” I held out my arm for her to see my tri-spiral ‘tattoo’.

“Oh, it’s beautiful! Mine only does that when I’m in the ocean,” she said, nonchalantly.

“Yours?” There’s no way she had the same tattoo. She must just be trying to make me feel better about hallucinating.

“Yep, but my trace is on the back of my neck.” She swiveled in her chair and lifted her hair to show me. “See?”

I stood with wobbly legs and walked around the table. Sure enough, right there on the back of her neck were two birds mid-flight. I leaned in to get a better look. It did look like mine – not a tattoo, but more like a part of her body.

“What kind of birds are they?” I couldn’t hide my amazement.

“Seagulls. Unfortunately, they have a bad reputation for stealing your Cheetos when you’re laying out at the beach or for hanging out in grocery store parking lots, but they’re so much more.

Seagulls represent freedom and vitality. They spend their lives riding the energy above the waves,” she explained with pride.

“It’s amazing.” I took one last glance, and then remembered what she’d called it. “You said it’s a…trace?”

“That’s right, we all have one,” she replied breezily, as if that cleared everything up.

“Although, I’ve never seen a design like yours.” She looked like she wanted to say something more, but just then a large, steaming pizza was set down in front of us, overflowing with ooey, gooey cheese.

“So, do you surf?” she asked between bites. I noticed she ate her pizza backwards, starting with the crust first. I made a mental note to try that out next time.

“I took swimming lessons back in Atlanta and swam at the club pool all the time, but I’ve never been in the ocean,” I explained through bites. She almost choked. Once she was done coughing, she stared at me wide-eyed.

“Seriously? Not at all? Not even your feet?” She eventually picked her chin up off the ground.

“Nope, not one toe.”

She smiled wickedly, “That’s definitely going to change.”

After devouring an entire twelve-inch pizza, we jumped back into the Jeep and continued the journey to the House of Lorelei. Bald Head Island was south of Wilmington, but there were no bridges or roads leading to the island. When I read that in the pamphlet Dr Campbell had given us, a picture of Alcatraz popped in my head and had remained there ever since. Something seemed a little too final about a place you couldn’t drive away from.

About thirty miles later, we arrived in the small town of Southport. Small boutiques and coffee shops lined the main road; tourists wove in and out of the stores. I tried to reign in my hair that was smacking me in the face, as Kira took the right turn toward the Deep Point Marina. The ferry that would be taking us to the island ran every hour during the day and even at night. From what the pamphlet had said, it was about two miles from Southport to Bald Head Island, which amounted to a twenty minute ferry ride. We parked the jeep, bought our tickets and got in line. Waiting with us were families weighed down with beach toys and luggage, couples standing close or holding hands, and several younger girls wearing matching t-shirts with Ebb & Flo’s Oyster Bar and Restaurant written on the back. A bar for just oysters? If my memory served me right, oysters were slimy, salty little aliens that came in their original shells. I remembered trying one when we went to Savannah for St. Patrick’s Day. It only lasted about two seconds in my mouth before I spit it out in my napkin.

From then on, I vowed to stick to fish and shrimp.

A horn blared and the ferry slowly docked beside the boardwalk. Workers jumped in to action as they removed luggage and trunks, sending them down a ramp and onto a moving belt. The ferry itself was bigger than I expected and packed with visitors leaving the island for the night. They were all windblown and giddy. I couldn’t help smiling at them as they filed off the boat. A little boy walked by with his dad and waved shyly at us. He was holding a stuffed sea turtle tightly in his arms, but what I noticed first was the red beach bucket he was wearing as a hat. It was in the shape of a sandcastle and sat a little lopsided. I waved back and silently mourned my own childhood void of happy memories.