Crow's flight

Fourth feather - The red damsel and the mad king

(The black feather, which was much whiter than before, went to the forest a long time ago, however, in the old city, a reddish one and another used in theatres as a prop, fell on the same roof.)

How many days had already passed? She was in her bed with a gloomy face, looking at the grey clouds that announced rain through her window. They reminded her of her friend's hair, which every day was more white and silvery, who she hadn't seen by what seemed an eternity.

Nearby, she saw a framed photo of her and Dana, both with happy smiles on their faces. That comforted her a little, but when she tried to mimic that curve of her lips she couldn't do it.

"Naisa Duwooth, what the bloody hell are you doing," she said in a low tone, looking at her appearance in the mirror: her red hair was messier than ever, to the point that it seemed that instead, she had an old damaged broom on her head; not only that but under all her mane, the dark circles under her eyes were too noticeable; and her skin was so thin and pale, that she could almost see her bones.

She stood up from bed, wondering if it was even worth the effort. While standing, she caught the portrait, jealous of those times, involuntarily letting slip a tear down her cheek. Perhaps, this was her fault. The last time she was with her friend, she teased Dana a little and afterwards didn't see her again, maybe... that made her leave.

She heard a loud knock on the door. Naisa glanced again at the mirror, her miserable aspect made her think she wasn't ready to go down, let alone open. She peeked through the window, but there was no one, only the same mountain of boxes and missives, this time there was a new letter on top of the pile.

She washed her face and dressed with whatever she found first. While going down the stairs, her heart started pounding faster and her legs began to tremble. At this rate, she won't even be able to reach the door.

Grabbed stronger the photo on her palm, and advanced with her eyes closed, finally touching the knob. As she rotated it, the entire world began to feel heavier, the shadows growing darker, breathing becoming terribly harder.

All her strength left her, causing her to not be able to even keep her hand in the air, collapsing as she sighed in relief and regret, as the fear was slowly fading. She tried, but still couldn't get out of home.

After Dana suddenly disappeared, she spent nights alone in the blistering cold and sinister darkness of the streets of Ovingud, searching for her, unable to accept that she just wasn't anymore, tired and hurting her feet, crying alone. That's what created her condition. The thought of going out there, stepping again into the city alleys, remembering the desperation, sadness and pain she felt. Her mind associated it with simply walking out the door or even getting close, panicking because of it.

"Please... help me, Dana..." said slowly, recovering air between words. "Dana... why did you leave me..."

When she was about to cry, the door suddenly opened and a mysterious figure appeared from the pile of boxes, entering at the same time that the street lights flickered.

"My sweet beloved friend, I have returned," said a silhouette of... perhaps, a woman? The figure was wearing a rugged tattered dress, and white long hair, barely visible to her, since she was seeing it all blurry.

She laughed, still lying on the ground, at the absurd appearance of the visitor.

"You're not Dana... not only for failing to imitate my friend but also, she never spoke that way, that's me. And if it wasn't enough, she didn't have such a masculine voice either. I know you're trying to make it sound like a feminine pitch, yet failing miserably."

"I'm sorry... I thought that would lift your spirits," he said, taking off his costume and wig.

"Thanks, I guess...? But I don't understand why you insist, you know I can't see ghosts or spectral things. I'm not special like Dana nor you..."