I laid out upon the cool grass in the field behind my home. My hands lazily brushing over the wild flowers and weeds. I could smell the sweet fragrance of the pollen, and the fresh moss laying upon the entrance of the forest that bordered our property. The trees blotted out the warm Colorado sun and created a distant canopy. My knapsack laid out also beside me with its contents spilling out. My writing book faced up towards the never ending blue sky, the pages waving at the clouds as they lazily float by.
I didn’t feel any motivation lately, which was strange because I could usually always come up with something. Today was a particular difficult day.
My fathers doctor appointment.
The doctors keep telling us its an undecided and unknown illness that he has, but presumably they believe it could be an unfound form of cancer. My father of course doesn’t believe he does. He said no one would believe the reason even if he told it. He would always tell me a new story every night before I went to bed when I was little about the adventures he went on. But one particular story was of great importance.
He went on a dangerous excavation in a deserted place somewhere in Transylvania with his partner Bradley Christofferson awhile back before I even learned how to speak properly. The story always started out the same whenever he told them. I would clutch my stuffed duck in my arms underneath the comforter and watch as my dad would animatedly start the beginning. But the more he always told me the stories the more I was starting to think that they weren’t true:

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Daddy. Do you have to tell the story about Queen Patricia again? Why can’t you read me a book or something?” I sighed and stared at him guiltily. I hated saying it, but I just wanted my father to tell me something normal for a change. His head perked up, turning his head to look at me thoughtfully.
“Why the sudden change in interest honey?” he asked a little sad.
“Because its not true,” I stopped short, regretted it immediately. His eyes softened.
“You think I’m lying to you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, everyone you’ve told doesn’t really believe you. Duncan said that your just trying to scare me. Same with Emily,” My father looked away, seeming to be in deep thought about something.
“One day Alyxandra, you’ll find out that all of this is true,”
I bit my lip and closed my eyes.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


I was nine years old then. And ever since then, he has never spoken a word about Queen Patricia or the necklaces to me or to the rest of the family. But try as I might, I could never get the story out of my head. I knew every single detail as if I had been there with my father the day it supposedly happened. I flopped my arm over my eyes to blot out the sun and sighed. What was I supposed to do? Believe him? He is my father after all, and he needs me now more then ever. But how can you just believe something that has no evidence? I have never even seen the necklaces in my lifetime, and yet my father claims that he still has them. And IF they did have such an infinite amount of power to them, why doesn’t he use it to save himself?
To save us by saving himself?
All these questions have floated in and out of my mind ever since he got sicker and sicker. I sat up and ran a hand through my hair, the scent of strawberries and watermelon, from my shampoo, wafted around my head as I moved the hair back. I’ve done entirely too much thinking obviously.
I stood up and gathered all of my things into my knapsack and made my way through my field and to the back porch. My black lab greeted me with an animated wag of his tail.
“Good boy Jericho,” I patted his head a few times and walked through the back door, Jericho following in behind me, eager to get out of the hot Colorado sun.
I made my way through the kitchen and towards the open hallway to the stairs.
“Alyx?” called a voice.
“Yeah mom?”
“I was just wondering if it was you. How did writing go?”
“Eh. Couldn’t think of much today,”
“It happens. We’ll be leaving soon okay?”
“Okay,” I sighed and walked up the stairs, smoothing out my white spring dress out of nervousness. I hated seeing my dad at the hospital.
I walked down to the end of the hall and walked into my room on the left. My white door had my name and a picture of a rose carved into the wood. I always brush my fingers across it whenever I enter my room.
It was always for more hope.
I dropped my knapsack on the top of my queen sized bed with the sheets messily unmade. I took off my dress and slid on a pair of dark washed shorts and a large black shirt with the London flag imprinted on the front, and the left sleeve hanging off my shoulder. I grabbed the hair tie that was laying on my wrist and tied my hair up into a pony tail. I then slid on my gladiator shoes and walked out of my room.
“Are you ready beauty queen?” my older brother Duncan joked. He hugged me from behind and twirled me back around so that he could go down the stairs first. I laughed and pushed him.
“Your just jealous ‘cause I’m the pretty one in the family,” I grinned evilly and sprinted down the stairs after him.
Duncan laughed and ran a hand through his short, dark auburn hair.
“I think I’m the hot one.”
“Don’t be so confident in that statement D!” I laughed.
“Take it easy. Your going to scuff my floors,” my mom cut in. She grabbed me gently by the shoulders and stopped me.
“Mom, are we leaving now?” I asked. She nodded and grabbed her purse.
“Emily!” she shouted up the stairs.
“Coming mom!” answered my sister. I could hear footsteps up above my head as my sister moved around upstairs, grabbing whatever she needed before we had to leave.
“Emily!” I yelled, “Hurry up!”

Just then my sister came running down the stairs, her black hair draped down her back in thick curls. Her green eyes sparkling in annoyance. She’s always looked more like our mom, with her thin face and round eyes. Duncan and I looked more like our dad, with round faces and oval eyes. I was always the short one in the family, even though my sister didn’t beat me too much in that department either. My father who is part Italian, of course passed on his traits to us. We have the general Italian hair and eyes. ‘But our mothers American qualities,’ my grandma had always said.
“Are you done yelling?” she said in an annoyed voice.
“Yup,” I replied with a grin. My sister rolled her eyes in response.
“Let’s go already,” Duncan cut in and pushed Emily out the door. She automatically reached for her cell phone and started texting. I rolled my eyes and shut the front door behind us.
We all piled into our green Range Rover and started towards the highway.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When we finally got to the Saint Brethren hospital, it was very quiet as the summer breeze danced around our heads. We always hated going to visit in the hospital, we just wanted him to come home and wake up the next day to find this all to be a bad dream.
We walked through the automatic doors and were instantly greeted by the smell of antibacterial soap and disinfectant spray.
It smelled way too clean.
It was always the same. The obvious health conscious nurses waddling past us in a frenzy as if they were a school of fish, and we were the sharks. Once we made our way through the everlasting hallway, we make it to the front desk. A large woman with half moon spectacles sneered down at us. It was one of those moments where everything began to grow, and we all shrunk down to the size of mice. Almost in a cartoon manner if you would say.
“May I help you?” she asked with a gruff tone, obviously annoyed at us visitors.
“Yes we’re visiting Victor Martina.” my mother said softly. If the large nurse hadn’t of been listening so intently like a vulture she probably would of never heard my mom speak in the first place.
“Ah, yes. Victor. He’s in room 60B. Upstairs. Fifth floor.” she said loudly, and turned her attention to her computer screen.
“Oh, ugh. Thank you.” my mom murmured. She cocked her head to the right in signal for us to move.
My family and I made our way to the elevators, Duncan jogged ahead to press the upward arrow button. We all filed in and let out a breath. We always felt so awkward visiting dad in the hospital.
“I hope one of the nurses gave your father his pain medication. He gets so cranky when they don’t.” my mom murmured under her breath. Emily rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Mom. He will be fine.”
“I know. I just want to make sure he’s comfortable though.” she nodded and nervously bit a fingernail, staring up at the digital screen as it began counting up.
2.
My mom grabbed at her sleeves like a little kid who was about to go on a roller coaster for the first time.
3.

“What are we going to have for dinner mom?” my brother said, trying to make small talk. Emily nudged him in the ribs.
“Oh, I was thinking steak. You can grill, I’ll cook the rest of the meal. Sound good?” she said a little more relaxed. Small talk always seemed to take her mind off the present. Duncan was good at distracting people.
5.
The elevator groaned to a rough stop before fully halting and allowing the doors to open. We walked out of the elevator and began our way down the hallway, counting the signs on the doors as we did so.
Strangely, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I slowed to a stop and turned my head around. At the last, split second I swear I saw somebody sprint back into the elevator..
“Alyxandra?” my mom called, snapping me back into reality. I blinked twice and turned back to see my brother, sister, and mom all staring at me with a curious expression on their face. “What is it?” she asked.
“I thought I saw. Nevermind.” I finalized and shook my head, trying to erase the memory. It couldn’t of been anything I’m sure. It’s just the fact of being in the hospital making me all crazy. I rejoined my family and walked to the room 60B. Emily pushed open the door and immediately set her purse down on the nearest chair. We all filed in and was instantly greeted by my other brother JJ.
“Took you guys long enough,” he said gruffly. “Dad’s been complaining about how they won’t let him read.”
I gave JJ a hug and looked over towards the bed.
Dad who has always been tan and strong from working outside is now pale and rather thin and gangly. Its almost like he’s a stranger now.
“Hi daddy.” Emily greeted first. She walked over and bent down to give him a hug and peck on the cheek. He smiles weakly and chuckles.
“Hi sweetheart.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Would be better if they would just let a man read a damn book.” he mutters.
“Darling, you know its bad on your eyes.” my mom cooed.
“That’s why I have glasses. I am thirty-seven years old. I think I can read a book without them thinking it will give me crazy ideas like I’m a nine year old.” he growled. An exasperated laugh fills the room.
“Hey dad.” I say softly and walk over. He gives me a weak smile.
“Hey sunshine. How has your writing been going?” he asks me. I smiled softly and give him a peck on the cheek.
“Eh, miserable. Can’t think of a single thing.”
“Writer’s block sucks doesn’t it?” he jokes. I nod in response.
We all say our greetings and sit down. We all talk about the weather and new movies that have been coming out. My dad is such a movie fanatic. Give him a title of a movie and he is bound to give you a quote from it. My mom then gives him the update on all our activities and upcoming events, and also lets him know about grandma coming down to visit in the fall.
“She doesn’t need to overexert herself just to see me.” my dad complains.
“Sweetheart. She insisted. You know how stubborn that woman is.” my mom responds. Once we start talking about normal things, the awkwardness melts away. It’s almost as if everything is back to normal.
Almost.

I look around the room and find nothing but bareness. Its always freezing in the room so I clutch the sweater I had brought with me tighter around me. I look out the door and see nurses scrabbling around in a rush as if the world is ending. Then in the distance of the hallway I see a figure standing in the very middle, a hood erasing its features. The nurses oblivious to it. I squint and realize I am slowly lifting myself out of my chair.
“Alyx?” a voice asked. I snap my head to the right and see my family staring at me once again in curiosity. “Alyxandra what has gotten into you?” my mother asked again.
“I. I thought I saw someone I knew that’s all.” I explain. I could feel the blood rush to my face. I must of looked like a total crazy person. I look at my dad and see him staring at me with an expression of utter understanding. He nods once and smiles softly. Did he see the figure too? Or was it just in my imagination?


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We arrived home later that evening, reluctantly leaving my father at St. Brethren. I marched up the stairs and flopped down on my bed. The springs squeaking at my sudden weight. Sighing I sat back up and reached for my writing book. I flipped open to a new, clean page. I grabbed my favorite wood pencil off of my desk nearby and wrote. The wonderful sound of the scribbling of lead onto paper filled the silence in my room.

The world is at a standstill
Delightful eyes gaze upon the stars
Lips so tender kiss the rain
Feet so forlorn that walk across the dunes in somber unity

Feeling a certain contentment, I closed the book shut and laid my head down onto my feather pillow. Looking out the window beside my bed I had a clear view of the forest. The sun was darkening its features, but I could still make out the faint shape of the entrance. The cool summer evening breeze sifted through the bottom half of the open window, causing my gossamer curtains to dance around in the air. I stood up and walked over to my window seat, closing the opening. As I did so, I saw a faint shadow walk towards the forest. The same figure that was in the hallway earlier today in the hospital. I reopen the window and stick my head out, trying to get a better view. Squinting, I lean outside farther, hoping not to fall off the roof in the process. The figure stops, and I can see by the slight movement, it had turned to look up at me. Obviously knowing I am there. My breath caught in my throat. Who is that? I quickly pull myself back inside and shut the window, locking it. After drawing the curtains I make my way back to my bed and sit down. I swallow but fail at the attempt. Laying down again, trying to relax I close my eyes. I can hear my heart beat in my ears.
Whoever it was, I didn’t want to meet it.
I wasn’t about to become one of those cheesy horror film actresses who look behind the door to find the killer, only to be stabbed. I didn’t want my movie to end just yet.
After fifteen minutes of calming breathing, I slowly became drowsy. Standing up and changing into a pair of colorful softball shorts and a black tank top, I look at the clock.

12:46 am.
I yawn and move everything off my bed. Crawling underneath the covers, I try not to think of the figure as I close my eyes and slowly drift off to sleep.