Be Brave

Tears and An Empty Promise

The Past.

Rain was pouring down hard, as if the heavens above had opened the floodgates; thunder boomed, leaving a ringing sound in its wake while the crisscrossed pinkish flashes of lighting brightened the night sky in three second intervals.

A little girl was clawing her father's hand in between both of her tiny ones and they stood outside a huge manor house that towered over them in a sinister way, mostly caused because of the ominous weather.

A sign that was rust-covered and beaten down from extremely old age, hung high above the front doors with a small flickering yellow light beaming down on it, creating an eerie halo. Its faded cursive lettering was supposed to read: The Shining North Star's Home for Lost Girls. It was a place, as the little girl was soon to find out, where no child would ever want to be, because it meant you were alone, abandoned; an orphan. Discarded and forgotten, tossed to the side like refuse.

"But daddy! Why do I have to stay here? Why can't I go with you? Where is mommy?" the little girl rattled out question after question without pausing to wait for an answer. Her father's face was stony, lifeless; trying his hardest to conceal his broken emotions silently raging inside.

This was the only thing he could think of to do. He needed to do this, it was his only option. The troubled seas where he was soon heading just weren't a safe place for children, he kept reminding himself that over and over in his head. This was the only way. The only way...

Someone opened one side of the double doors and seemed to float down the porch steps of the huge manor house holding an umbrella with a shaky hand. The someone turned out to be an incredibly old looking woman with sheet white hair piled high on top of her head in a tight bun, adding little help to her short height. She stood under the covered steps in front of the huge double doors, the light from above creating an odd, ill-boding aura around her. She stepped further out from the dry comforts of the porch to greet them.

The little girl took a closer look at the woman, warily. Her face featured a squat nose and a stern mouth that was so puckered-looking, the child thought she was making a kissing face at her. The woman looked down her nose at the girl with a pitiful expression on her face which made the girl think maybe she was some sort of scary witch or a monster; her face was a shroud of creepy mystery caused partly by the storm. The old crow knelt in front of the child, her joints cracking in the process and gave her best impression of a warm gesture; her small mouth cracked into a wrinkly, weathered smile. It gave the girl the opposite effect of warmth, it terrified her more.

The woman spoke, trying to be heard over the roaring of the storm they were all standing out in. "Here darling, why don't you take my hand and come along inside with me where it's nice and warm? I can make you some tea? Or perhaps coco?" she said the last word with a high note as she attempted to coerce the girl inside. Her tone was pleasant enough, but her words weren't going to soothe this inconsolable child that clung to her father while trying to shrink away from the woman.

The little girl wanted to cry again. This can't be happening. She thought.

The old woman reached out for her hand, but the child would not budge. Her father bent over and picked up his crying child, prying her little fingers from his pant leg that she had fiercely clasped in her hands.

His thumbs tried to wipe her sopping wet hair out of her eyes, "Sweetheart. You have to stay here until I get back. Can't you understand that?" he looked deeply into her eyes, trying to will her to understand. Her small violet eyes where shining brightly under the light from above.

The girl started to panic again, breathing fast and heavy. "No! I wanna go with you! I wanna see the sea too! It's not fair! Why do I have to stay here? Don't you want me, daddy?" that last question brought tears to his eyes, but they were easily masked by the pelting rain. He knew she was unintentionally making this harder on him, and yet he couldn't help but fall for the tiny bait she lay out.

"Of course I do! You're my little girl. My precious, darling baby girl-" his voice cracked but only for a moment before she could tell, "but it's dangerous where I'm going. That's why I want you to stay here until I get back. Ok? I promise I won't be gone for long..." his big, calloused hands swiped the tears from his daughter's face, the storm making his attempts useless.

He set her down and the woman, introduced herself as Miss Kylie, took his child's small hand into her own wrinkly grasp. The child protested, trying to worm herself away but the old woman had a firm grip that didn't slacken. The father grabbed his duffel bag, soaked through from the water, turned around and faced the endless winding path, firmly keeping his back facing from the house.

If he had stayed any longer, he knew he would never find the courage to leave. He kept his slow march forward, even when his child cried out after him, his step never faltered. He won't soon forget the sounds of her wails of sorrow, even as the house left his line of sight completely and the roar of the storm drowned out her howls.

The storm showed no signs of letting up any as he spoke to himself quietly. "I'm so sorry. But I must do this. It's in my nature. I'll be back some day, I promise... I love you, sweetheart." And he walked out of his daughter's life, forever. Her last words forever embedded in his heart and the pain he caused would always be close to choking him...