Moon Shaped Birthmark

A Mysterious Man

I awaken to stiffness in my body, and a creaking sound as I move. Groaning I put my hand to my head. I have been out for a while, my limbs still half numb. "Pins and needles." I whisper to myself, the sound of my voice foreign to me. I slowly open my eyes and let the light seep in.

Sitting in front of me are a candle, a bowl of water and a pot of soil, resting neatly in their place. I look at where the voice came from and once more he repeats "Well? What are you waiting for? I know you can do it. Don't keep me waiting." I'm don't know what to do with the objects in front of me. I turn to him and speak,
"You put a girl in a room in front of three objects and expect her to know what to do?" A grin appears on his face, grisly and sly.
"Wit." He says. "Wit won't get you to do what I want you to do." He is right. Not my best move. How am I supposed to know what to do? Why me? This man seems to know more about me than I do. I turn back to the table, staring at the fire and instantly hear a voice. 'Bright as the sun, soft as the moon, burning like a flame, marked with a rune'. Something kicks in and my hand drifts over to the flame. For a second my body feels not my own, as if someone else is moving it. Fear of the fire doesn't entice me and my hand glides gently underneath the flame. The heat greets me like an old friend, unafraid, yet gentle. I sit there holding the flame in the palm of my hand, gapping in awe of what I just did. How did I do that? How did he know I could do that? Why didn't I know I could do that? Who is this man? As I stare at the burning flame within my hands, time seems to stop and all that's left is me and the burning mass. His raspy voice breaks my thoughts and I look back to the small window in the door where the man stands. A devilish smile on his face, his eyes beaty and small. He is a grotesque looking man, one who has been through hell, the scars of life written on his face, and age riddled in his body. The mere sight of him is enough to make you sick.
"I knew you could do it." He says in a whisper, barely reaching my ears. My hands begin to shake as fear fills my chest, and the flame before me grows slowly dim, until it fades to nothing more. Still unaware of how this came to be, I look back at the window in the door, as if for reassurance, or an inclination of what to do next.
"Well? Go on." He says gesturing his hand to the pot and the water. Logic tells me to put the water in the soil, but that seems too easy. This challenge is calling for more. Yet I hear no voices in my head edging me to do something. Instead, the silence greets me with the feeling of unease following swiftly after. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, wracking my brain for what to do next. Maybe if I put my hand in the water something will happen. Slowly and gently I put two fingers in the bowl of water, its room temperature soothing my anxious nerves. I wait one second... two... then three. But nothing seems to happen. I look at the door once more, but all I see are his beaty eyes staring back, no expression on this face. No further instruction. I look to the pot and put the same two fingers in the soil. Nothing comes of it. A feeling of relief and disappointment rises inside me. The man outside the door makes a low humming sound, as if thinking in that ghastly brain of his. I hold my breathe, waiting for him to say something but am met with the sound of his footsteps walking away, and his face fading from the window. I sink lower in my chair, thinking. Why didn't they all work? Why only the fire? What do I do now? Is breaking free a good idea? Is it too soon? Too expected? Why did he just leave me here? Shhh, Narah. Stop and think. A voice from within my head speaks to me. Its soft and soothing, like a mother lulling her child to sleep. It reminds me of my own mother, or lack there of. Maybe she had a soft voice like that, maybe when I was younger she sung me to sleep. Though I would never know, I have never met her. No memory of her is left in my mind. "An orphan at birth", they say. Unwanted from the start. A failure in the womb.

But now is not the time to think about this. I bring myself back to the voice in my head. 'Stop and think'. Stop and think? What does that mean? I sit in silence, hoping the voice will speak to me again but nothing comes. I scan the room around me, looking for a clue. A royal blue bed paired with an oak brown nightstand. A dresser with one too many drawers. A painting of different plants on one wall and a window on the other. A window? How did I miss the window? A massive clue to where I'm at! Though my hope dwindles as I look outside to see just as confusing of a place as the inside, although it is a beautiful sight to see. Lushes deep green grass, rolling hills to the left, a river next to it, and a forested area looming to my right. Not something you would expect to see in an abandoned place like this. The two nearly don't match up. But I need to get out of here, staying here for the night is not a good idea. I jiggle the door handle hoping it will open, but its locked. My best bet is to search the room. I open the drawers of the dresser and see three neatly hung dresses. Odd for such an old place. A light blue dress to the left, royal blue dress in the middle, and an amaranth pink to the right. I'm not much of a pink fan, but at least I can dress nice while I'm here. Which shouldn't be long, I remind myself. I move to the nightstand and pull open its drawers. A journal, a pen and a ribbon. A light blue ribbon. The bed takes on the royal blue of the dress and the pillows are a steel blue. This man must really like his blue's. Through all my findings, nothing to help me escape. I sit on the bed, elbows on my knees, thinking what to do next. A hard task to do when being knocked out for so long, my mind still tingling with numbness. I close my eyes and dig a little deeper. Just then, an idea has come to mind. I stand up and march my way to the door. Banging on the door I shout,

"Hey!! Hello! Old man? Are you here?" An annoyed sigh comes from down the hall and I can see his shadow approaching. Was he standing down the hall the whole time? Is he monitoring me? His steps continue to come closer until I see his face through the small square window. It's time to try my luck.

"I can tell you like the color blue." I said leaning one shoulder up against the wall, slyly responding. He grunted. "What do you want?"
"Is there any chance you could get me some water or food? If you want me alive you have to feed me, old man." A hesitation came from his side, then another sigh.
"I suppose." There is glowing look of confidence in my smile. My plan is working.
"Cool, so could I get some berries and toast? And maybe a water with that too. And don't forget the napkin." I heard nothing. "Hello?" He had already walked away. My plan is in action and satisfaction arises within me. I sit on the end of the bed tapping my feet. Time passing slowly as I wait. Getting impatient I walk up to the door again and just as I am about to knock and handle turns. In shock, I take a step back, holding my breath. A black figure emerges from the other side and an arm reaches out, no hand is seen, only a shadow looming over everything. He holds out a single white plate, seemingly floating in midair above the shadow of where his hand should be. A small piece of toast and some berries lay atop the plate and a small fork sits on the right side. Still a little breathless, I take the plate from the outstretched shadowed arm, careful not to touch his hand, wherever it might be. A face like his has gotten in a few fights before, his hands are capable of danger. I slowly pull the plate away and keep my eyes on his form. Staring down at the plate, I say,
"The toast is cold, old man." And look back up to where his arm should be, but he says nothing. The shadowed arm sinks back into the darkness from which it came and the door closes promptly behind it. I stand there for a minute, waiting for his footsteps to fade away. Once silence has pursued, I bring the plate over to the desk where the pot is. The decorative flowers engraved on the plate a deceptive beauty of the place. I sit down and think for one moment more. Am I sure I want to do this? I close my eyes, and ready myself. Taking a deep breath, I pick up the fork, its edges scratched and slightly bent and make my way to the window. One thing you learn as an orphan is how to break out of places with ease. A handy trick if you find yourself somewhere you're not supposed to be. I slide it underneath the center lock until I hear it click. Freedom. Quietly, I slide the window open, feeling the fresh breeze on my skin and breathing in the cool air. Nature is always something I've loved. I find it very dear to me, depth within its colors, peace within its sounds. Like a home inside a world of chaos. I have always connected with it in a way words cannot express.

I take one last look at the door, assuring my safety, and begin to make my way out.
With one leg out the window, I remember the notebook sitting in the drawer. I quickly slide back in, open the drawer to grab the notebook, rip out a page and steal the pen. I write a note on the paper and put it on the desk for him to find. A little treat left behind for him. My eyes catch the glimpse of a red berry and I pop it into my mouth, the bitter taste spreading across my tongue. Might as well eat one while I'm here. I make my way back to the window, eyeing the note on the desk.
"Clueless old man." I mumble and smile to myself while I sneak out the window into the woods, leaving the note in its place.

It reads,

You forgot the napkin :)