A Month of Midnights

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When I woke up I was not surprised that find I had curled up completely next to Rudy. I figured I must have done it subconsciously when the fire had died. My head was pressed against his chest, and his arms had fallen over my shoulders. I blinked up at the morning sky and was dismayed to see it cloudy and overcast. Gloomy looking days never meant anything good for me. I didn’t move though. I was ashamed to admit to myself how comfortable I was. Of course, Rudy woke up and unintentionally ruined it.

“How long have you been there?” he asked with great amuse.

“I don’t know,” I answered vaguely. I was still trying to enjoy my last moment of serenity.

“Well, I can’t get up,” he said. I sighed.

“You didn’t mind this when you were a horse,” I reminded him.

“I’m a human now. My lungs aren’t as big. I sort of need to breathe, Blyss,” he joked, rolling me into the dirt.

“Hey!” I cried. I grabbed a small stone lodged in the soil and chucked it as his shin.

“What was that for?” he feigned innocently.

“For shoving me off!” I declared indignantly, throwing more rocks at him. He laughed and scooped a handful of ashes from the fire. He flinged them at me, and the ashes rained down into my hair and on my cheeks. I shrieked in protest and began throwing at him anything I could find: grass, rocks, sticks, and perhaps even a few bugs caught in the middle our little war. Rudy continued to toss more cinders at me, and showers of sooty grey soon began disrupting my vision. After a pounding volley of stones, Rudy held up his hands in defeat.

“Cease fire, cease fire!” he said using his arm to shield his face. I yelped in triumphant victory. Bringing his arm down, Rudy guffawed to see my heinous appearance.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” I exaggerated sarcastically. Rudy smiled.

“It’s not that bad. You just look a bit like Cinderella, that’s all.” I paused to see if he noticed the uncanny reference he made. Rudy’s eyes locked with mine.

“Yeah, I suppose I do,” I laughed uneasily. Rudy shied away from me and began brushing flecks of dirt of his arms.

“Well, um, I’m gonna go back to the river,” I said shaking the ash out of my hair. “I’ll be back soon.” Rudy nodded and somehow busied himself as I walked through the trees and back to the shore. I briskly threw off my boots, slipped out of my ragged dress and undergarments, and cautiously waded into the river. Though the waters were calm, I could still hear the roar of the rapids when they had tried to subdue me yesterday. I sank beneath the surface and let the current lull me gently. My hair swirled around my shoulders weightless and free. For a moment, being underwater numbed every pesking thought inside me. I envisioned what the current Maleficent had told me of her own story. She finished her transformation alone and lost in the forest. She had failed to find the Writer. I couldn’t let that happen to myself or to Upright or Rudy. And Minnie had been so good to us, giving us protection and creating meals for us. She deserved a chance to see the Writer too. When I entered Istoria almost a month ago, my sole intent was to save myself. But now I knew I held the lives of three other beings in my hand. They’d all helped me on my journey, and I was intent on repaying them. I was beginning to doubt if the Writer would even help me when we found him, and I knew I might just have to accept my fate. I was becoming unsure of what I should do: take Maleficent or fight it. No matter what I decided, my priority would be finding the Writer for the others, not for myself.

Paranoid that I might be attacked at my most vulnerable moment, I quickly finished bathing and put my dress back on. It felt like a sort of paradox, washing myself only to put on a reeking, threadbare dress again. I yanked my worn boots back on and hiked back to where Rudy was waiting for me. My wet, crumpled hair dripped on to my shoulders, and occasionally I had to squeeze the ends to speed up the drying process. I came back to the ashy fire ring, but Rudy was nowhere to be found.

Oh, no, not again.

I jumped to the worst scenarios. What if he was captured by the Madmags? What if he transformed back? I wasn’t done talking to him! I had so many questions, and I was starving for human companionship. Upright and Minnie weren’t exactly the most ideal people to discuss the world with. Before I panicked for too long, I heard a strange rustling. Assuming it was the Madmags, I grabbed one of the long hunks of wood we hadn’t burned last night and circled the campsite, ready to strike. I heard only two footsteps behind me before I swung my makeshift weapon behind me.

“Blyss!” Rudy yelped. He was crouching behind me, just barely missing my swing. “Is there a reason you’re trying to behead me?”

“Why would you creep up on me like that?” I scolded.

“All I did was walk back here! It’s not my fault you’re so jumpy,” said Rudy, a familiar grin creeping back on his lips. I tossed the wood and helped him up.

“Where’d you go?” I asked bitterly.

“Just farther down the river for a bath. I figured you’d want some privacy,” he answered. I looked up and saw his hair was, like mine, dripping wet. Beads of river water still clung to the corners of his forehead.

“Oh,” I said realizing my mistake. “Well, as long as you’re okay.” I wasn’t sure what to say anymore. Rudy laughed.

“At least I know you can defend yourself,” he said with a playful smirk. I scowled. Rudy noticed my sour expression, and his smile only widened. His eyes then moseyed above my head, but they looked farther up than my horns. He was looking somewhere in the trees. I turned around, followed his gaze, and saw the large plume of smoke billow above the branches. As the smoke reached higher into the sky, it camouflaged itself with the grey clouds, and the two could not be seen separately.

“Early morning fire,” Rudy observed, but his tone didn’t seem as pleasant as it was a minute ago.

“Do you think it’s Upright and Minnie?” I asked as I watched the smoke waft up leisurely.

“It could be,” he answered simply. I turned to him.

“You don’t think it’s them.” Rudy shook his head.

“But it’s worth checking out. We have nowhere else to go,” he said beginning to walk forward. I stood still a little longer, looking at the smoke, wondering what fairy tale involved fire. Hansel and Gretel? Cinderella? Rumplestiltskin? It made no sense. All those stories had finished already. Their characters were off celebrating somewhere. So why the fire?

“Blyss, you coming?” Rudy asked. I tore my eyes away from the smoke and came to Rudy’s side. Together we hiked towards the smoke.

It was strange to walk with Rudy. For that matter, everything about him was strange. Even with his speaking abilities finally improved, Rudy was still quiet. We only made eye contact if we had to climb over a bolder or skid down a slope. He’d always look to make sure I made it safely and then turn back to the smoke. This wasn’t exactly what I had in my mind when I pictured Rudy as a human. I expected him to be more talkative. I wanted him to be more talkative. It seemed I’d have to initiate a conversation if I wanted one.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked in attempt to be casual. Rudy looked up again, checking to see we were in line with the smoke.

“About my brother actually,” he answered. He has a brother? Wait, is he dead? Should I ask? What if he gets upset? All these questions and self doubt were thundering in my head. I’d never been so confused in a simple conversation before. Something must be wrong with me.

“Oh, you have a brother?” I asked. “I have one too.” Why is everything I say coming out stupid? Get it together, Blyss.

“What’s his name?” Rudy asked.

“Who?”

“Your brother.”

“Oh, right. His name’s Leo. He’s seven,” I answered. I pinched my leg to snap myself back to sense.

“Mine’s James, but we all call him Jamie. He’s seventeen,” he said. Like the funeral bells’ gong, something inside of me rang and echoed. It brought to light something I had been determined to keep in darkness.

“James was my father’s name,” I said, the memory of my his smile flashing back in my mind. Years of pushing it away failed in an instant.

“Huh, what are the odds of that?” Rudy said.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice trailing away. Now his death was flashing back. It happened like lightning. There wasn’t even time for blood.

I realized I was letting our conversation die. “So, if Jamie is seventeen, that makes you?” I could see in Rudy’s eyes that he knew I was fishing for his age.

“Nineteen,” he said looking at me with a suspicious smile. “And how old are you, Blyss Bannon?” I lifted up my chin.

“Eighteen.” Rudy made an unusual expression, one almost of relief. A smile sneaked onto his face, but he fought to put it away. “Tell me about your brother,” I urged.

“Well, there’s not a whole lot to tell,” Rudy admitted. “He’s like me, but he always gets in much more trouble. He got caught once when he was twelve stealing two dozen eggs from the Hughes. Spent a week in the stalks.” Rudy laughed at his brother’s past misfortune, and I joined in.

“Leo’s only seven, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up like that,” I giggled, imagining little Leo in the stalks with a pouty lip.

“I always thought Jamie would get some petty thief role if he was chosen. Maybe he’d be the guy who swindles Jack into buying the magic beans in the exchange for the cow,” said Rudy, once again checking for the smoke.

“But?”

“But he actually got into the Istorian Guard,” Rudy said. It seemed he still couldn’t believe it himself. The Istorian Guard wasn’t anything from a fairytale, but rather they were the law enforcers of Istoria and Chorio. They made sure the Stories were followed, the royalty protected, and the general rules were followed back in Chorio. I assumed they also tracked down and hunted those like the Madmags who ditched their Stories. Besides the Storytellers, the Istorian Guard were the only ones permitted to cross between the realms.

“That’s quite an honor,” I said, “but not as much as being a prince.” Rudy chuckled.

“I guess. But the more I think about it, the more I’m kind of envious. He gets to be the knight in shining armor without a Story attached,” said Rudy. His shoulders slumped dejectedly.

“There’s a reason the Writer chose you, Rudy,” I assured him.

“I could say the same thing to you,” he pointed out. “But I don’t believe you’re supposed to be Maleficent. There’s no way you can be evil, Blyss.”

“I hope you’re right, Rudy, but sometimes I wonder if I really am meant to be evil,” I confessed.

“Don’t think like that,” he said, stopping me from walking. He grabbed my shoulders tightly. “You’re not going to become Maleficent. Not while I’m around.” I looked into his eyes gratefully.

“Glad to see someone’s fighting for me,” I said with a weary smile. Rudy conceded, and we continued walking.

“What about your father? What was he like?” Rudy inquired. I appreciated his attempt to the lighten the mood, but unfortunately the empty feeling I had when we buried my father returned. Mother never brought him up, and Leo was too young to remember him. So the topic never came up again, and his memory had slipped away. Rudy seemed genuinely interested though, and if this is what it took build a deeper friendship with him, then so be it.

“Well, he kind of looked like Upright, only bigger. Way way bigger.” My comparison brought a grin to Rudy’s face.

“Is that good or bad?” he asked.

“Oh, good. Definitely good. He had this huge, bushy beard that was so big you couldn’t see his neck unless you looked from the side. And he was a carpenter, so when he was scraping the wood, shavings would fly up and get caught under his chin. Sometimes they wouldn’t fall out until supper time when they fell in his soup,” I giggled. Perhaps not every memory of him completely broke my heart.

“He sounds like a good man,” Rudy commented.

“He was,” I said softly. Rudy caught my glance. He knew what he had stumbled upon.

“Was?” he asked gently. I looked away, trying to restrain myself from being too emotional.

“Rudy, I inherited something from him. Something that got him killed. My mother’s treated it like a curse ever since,” I managed to say.

“May I ask what is was?” It was clear he didn’t want to offend me.

“Awareness,” I said slowly. What a strange word to sum up my childhood.

“How is that like a curse?” Rudy asked.

“My father and I, we question. We see things more for what they really are. People see poverty and think, ‘Must get to Istoria.’ We see poverty and think, ‘Why can’t Istoria help us?’ Especially within the last year, I had thoughts like these all the time. My mother warned me of the consequences, and she was right. The Storyteller knew I thought poorly of Istoria. In their book, it’s a crime.”

“And you said it got him killed?” I felt guilty for making Rudy try to piece my confusing words together.

“My father took it a step further. He went public. He used to stand out in the marketplace and tell everyone they were living in a trance. He was convinced that while Istoria was a great place, they needed to step up and help out its sister realm.”

“They should!” Rudy blurted. “You’re right. This place has all these resources and food. Why doesn’t the Council of Royals send us some so we don’t starve before the next Day of the Choosing?”

“Looks like I’ve cursed you too,” I laughed weakly.

“Sorry, I just, well, you make a good point, that’s all,” Rudy stuttered. I only shrugged.

“It didn’t matter if my father was right. The village council charged him with treason. They beheaded him the next day.” I remembered the s***h of the blade being like an animal screech. It sliced clean through his neck. The whole town was silent, and the thud of his head rolling into the basket could have been heard in the villages miles away. He was the first person to be executed in our village in over a hundred years. My mother had used it almost every day since as a reminder to keep my mouth shut and my thoughts closed. Of course, that had led to a closing of feelings all together. My father’s death had completely changed me, and it was only near my own death at Maleficent’s bridge that my feelings could be restored. Strange how death can do that.

“My name,” I said, in need of subject change. “My mother told me to tell me people my name was Blyss because it was gentle yet powerful, because my mom wanted me to have a name that had an emphasis on people’s lips when they said it. But, in reality, it was my father who named me. He hoped that by naming me after ‘Ignorance is bliss,’ he could prevent me from following in his footsteps. Didn’t matter though. After listening to a few of his bedtime stories and lessons, my mother knew I’d become just like him. So, as extra precaution, she had me tell people something completely different about the origin of my name. I guess she thought eventually I would believe it myself.”

“And do you?”

“Not one bit.”

My name had always been a secret. Even Leo was unaware of how it was chosen for me. It was a relief to tell the truth finally. In a way, I was proud my father had named me, even if it was in attempt to prevent me from a life like his.

“I’m so sorry, Blyss,” Rudy mourned. “What a burden to live with.” I looked at him and gave him an optimistic smile.

“It’s not all that bad. It’s nice to be different,” I said, “even if it is in secret.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Being a horse is certainly...different,” he laughed. The topics shifted since then. Perhaps that soft moment between us, each of us sharing our own pasts, our brothers, our wishes, all of that brought us closer right then and there. I wished I could’ve had Rudy growing up. He would’ve put a smile on my face right away. I wouldn’t have had to wait to fall off a bridge before I could feel again.

“I’m telling you! If you butcher a pig in front of other pigs, it doesn’t taste as good!” Rudy insisted as we hopped over a little brook.

“Meat is meat, no matter what you kill it in front of!” I declared.

“No, no, if you kill the pig in front of the others, you feel guilty afterwards. You can see their scared little faces when you put the meat in your mouth, and it tastes like blood,” said Rudy, his eyes widening.

“Then perhaps you didn’t cook it long enough!” I teased. The pig topic made us hungry, so we once again switched it.

“Okay, so Golde forbid you actually become Maleficent, what’s one thing you’d look forward to in her Story?” Rudy questioned. I thought for a moment.

“Probably the castle,” I decided.

“Really? That creepy dungeon on the brink of an actual abyss?” Rudy asked in disbelief.

“Well, it would need some remodeling but think about it! I’d get to fly around all day waiting for Sleeping Beauty to turn sixteen.” Rudy looked at me like I was the craziest person in the world. I probably was.

“Well, mine would probably be all the royal banquets at the palace. Talk about the food!” said Rudy patting his stomach.

“Yeah, at least in the castle you wouldn’t have to see the other pigs’ faces when you eat its brother,” I snorted. Rudy shoved me straight into a tree.

“Whatever, Ms. Fly-Around-A-Creepy-Castle.” Next was the thing we dreaded the most in our Stories.

“Mmm, probably having to smell every girl’s feet. Especially the stepsisters’. That’s almost cruel,” Rudy shuddered. “What about you? Probably dying at the hands of Prince Doofus, right?” I shook my head and disregarded the dig Rudy made at Dane.

“No, I’d dread not being invited to Sleeping Beauty’s christening. Maleficent’s evil, don’t get me wrong, but I have to believe that somewhere in her heart, she really did just want to be included or at least remembered. Her life must be so lonely if she spends it fixated on a little girl.”

“You make a good point,” Rudy said, “but I wonder how Maleficent feels about eating pigs?” I rolled my eyes.

“You and that stupid pig,” I joked. We walked farther and farther, but it began to feel like chasing a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. The smoke seemed to be running away from us the closer we walked to it. Other than that, I couldn’t find much cause to complain. I was having the most fun I’d had in years talking with Rudy. I was refuting Rudy’s pig argument once again when he oddly interrupted me.

“Do you...smell that?” he asked scrunching his nose. Indeed, I did. It was foul and rotten. Whatever was burning, it certainly was not some wood from the forest. It burned the inside of my nostrils, leaving them raw and chafed. We continued to walk on, putting our hands over our noses and mouths. Rudy looked at me as we walked and plucked something out of my hair. He held up a large piece of ash that hadn’t disintegrated yet. More and more began floating down, falling to the forest floor like bizarre snowflakes.

“What kind of Story burns something that would make this?” I asked, shaking out more ashes from my hair.

“Do you think it’s even from a Story?” Rudy asked. His face looked up at the sky with growing concern.

“What else would have cause to burn something like this?” I said holding up the ashes I had collected in my hands. Our questions would soon enough be answered. The space between the trees began to thin until we found ourselves at the edge of a vast meadow. It was filled with long brown grasses that were bent down after years of bullying winds. Built almost exactly in the center of the meadow was an incredible mansion. The castles I had encountered so far were built in an old fashioned manner using traditional stone. The mansion, however, smaller than a castle, was built of glistening black and white marble that gleamed even in the bleak daylight. Marble pillars stood proudly in front of the elegant wooden doors. Miniature towers sat on the roof with windows all around. Stables, a coach house, a barn, guest cottages, and other minor buildings surrounded it on three sides, leaving the front uncluttered and in perfect view from almost every angle. A wide dirt path cut through the grasses, and it led up to the front door. And just above the pillars, perched on the shingles of the roof, was a tall brick chimney with billows of smoke wafting out of it. Ash flakes surrounded the chimney, and I could see them sprinkled throughout the grasses below. On the other side of the meadow was another line of trees that belonged to none other than the Forest of Temptations. It certainly made for an an interesting backyard.

“Should we go up?” I asked.

“Yeah, maybe they can help,” Rudy said though his voice was not convincing. Realistically, we both walked up to the front door of the house that day not for help but to see what was burning. Later, I decided that finding out what it was in the fire was not worth what we suffered. Rudy banged the brass knocker against the door. We could hear from outside as the sound echoed into the house. Minutes passed by, and the doors remained still.

“Let’s just go,” I said, disappointed that we’d never get the answer. As Rudy and I turned around, we heard the door creak open. We spun around and saw a man in the doorway. He had a roundy belly and lacked a considerable amount of height. The most interesting feature of his, however, and perhaps the one that should’ve sent us running, was his eccentric blue beard.