Yellow and Blue
The sun was just starting to go down on one of the hottest days Constance could remember. She had spent most of the day under the giant hydrangea bushes that separated the yard of the house she was living in with its neighbors. The neighbor’s dog, a lanky wrinkly hound with large warm eyes, had kept her company the best he could from where he was always chained to a rusted old tetherball pole. Throughout the day, Constance would slip off to the hose wrapped on the side of the house, as quietly as she could, to sneak water for her and the hound who she had named Nate. And while this hound was not hers to name she did not like the words and names that were shouted at the dog by his humans, especially when he would howl loudly from hunger, so she gave him a proper name.
The sun setting on this unbearably hot day was bittersweet. While she would get relief from the stifling heat, she would have to say goodbye to her hydrangea hide-out for the night, and go back into the house that upon entering engulfed her in a feeling she could only describe as homesick, even though that seemed like a strange way for the place you were supposed to call home to make you feel.
Constance could remember her first night in this house many years before. She remembered the springs from the mattress on her new bed poking her as she tried to sleep. She remembered the whispers and the light coming from the other side of the closed doors.
Constance remembered many things about the first night she came to this house, however, she did not remember where she came there from.
Sometimes short blurry memories would flash in her mind, but it was unclear whether they were real memories or dreams...a woman blowing two candles on top of a birthday cake, one “4” and one “0”, could that have been her mom? Or her standing arms-length from a bumble bee hive watching bees dance in and out then gently being snatched up from behind to view Mother Nature from a safer distance.
Constance watched the sun sink further down and was making her way out from under the bushes when she saw the tiniest yellow and blue spark in the grass, just a few feet in front of her. Then another spark and another. “Con-nay!” her aunt started shouting for her, she was expected inside by now to help with supper. She hated that her aunt called her “Connie” instead of “Constance” and she hated even more when her aunt screamed it - instant exasperation and disappointment in her aunt’s voice - as if Constance’s existence was the worst thing that had ever happened to this already unhappy world. But Constance didn’t hear her aunt. More yellow and blue sparks were flashing in the grass, all around her, filling her with a warm feeling that started at the tip of her fingers and covered her all the way up and through the ends of her rusty red hair. “CON-NAY!” her aunt called now with clear anger, and as much as she hated that her aunt refused to call her Constance, and as much as she dreaded her aunt’s anger, she didn’t move, she couldn’t move. For reasons she didn’t understand these little sparks were the only thing that mattered. Constance turned to look at Nate the dog who was...was...laughing? Smiling? Joy filled his kind eyes, his floppy hound lips turned up in a smile and his large body shook with what could only be described as laughter.
Constance took a moment to take it all in. What it all was she didn’t know. But as she looked out onto the yard that now glowed the happiest yellow and most hopeful blue, she heard a quiet voice that seemed to come nowhere, or, maybe her earlobe.. say “there’s more Constance, there’s more than this...”.
“CONNNNNNNNNNNAY! GET YOUR UNGRATEFUL HIND IN HERE NOW!”. The sparks all dimmed as though they had all been puffed out at once. Nate whimpered. Constance stood still for a moment, knowing she should get inside as quickly as she could. Knowing that she was going to be in such big trouble when she did go inside. But also, knowing it was ok, because There’s More Than Just This.
Constance reluctantly made her way inside her aunt’s house and everything was boiling. There was a pot of chicken gizzards and cabbage boiling on the stove, the house was boiling hot. And her aunt was boiling mad. Constance began setting the table, not exchanging a word or a look with her aunt. “Ungrateful, that’s what she is” her aunt started saying to no one in particular, but loud enough that her three children and Constance could hear. “She thinks I work hard all day so she can day dream,” the aunt continued, “and I swear to God Above, if I find out she’s using anything of mine to feed that stupid neighbor’s stupider hound, she’ll be out on the streets. Usually I’d blame the mother if she left her child, but in this case...I’m starting to see why.” This wasn’t the first-time Constance had heard her aunt say that, and every time it hit her like a cannon ball blow to her heart.
Constance had once heard her aunt whispering, on one of those first nights, that “the girl’s mother just disappeared, that’s what the girl is saying anyway, that she just disappeared”. After that night, Constance started having a reoccurring dream of a sad woman fixing breakfast and slowly becoming more translucent until she was completely invisible. Constance had turned eleven years old over this past winter, and while she still had that dream every now and again, she decided it was how her younger mind translated a disappearing mom.
It could have been many things that kept Constance awake that night. The night air was hot and the house fans were loud. Her aunt’s words still stung in her heart and if she thought about it too long hot tears would fill up her eyes. She also thought about her reoccurring dream, trying to push it out of her mind, not wanting to fall asleep in fear the dream might come back to her. Then there was Nate. She always worried about him. She never saw anyone bring him food or fill his water bowl, even though somehow Nate always seemed ok. But mostly, magical yellow and blue sparks danced in her thoughts. The glowing yard, the feeling that she still couldn’t describe. The best she could think of at this moment was “the opposite of homesick”.
Constance got out of bed to check on Nate. She made her way slowly down the creaky back staircase that led into the kitchen. Loud fans were running at full speed in her aunt’s bedroom and would drown out any sound she could make, but Constance didn’t want to take any chances.
The kitchen was quiet except for the muffled sound of the fans roaring upstairs, and the soft chirping of the late-summer crickets outside. She grabbed the chicken and cabbage from last night’s supper from the refrigerator, then froze. The floorboards above her gave a creak. If she got caught down here well, she couldn’t even begin to imagine the trouble she’d be in. Her aunt’s rage was unpredictable and her punishments had no foundation in reason. Another creak upstairs. It was unmistakable, someone else had gotten out of bed. Just then Constance heard a terrible howl (or was it wonderful?) from Nate. She knew at once that she had to get to him, and there was no saving herself if someone had already noticed she was out of bed. She grabbed the leftovers, unlocked the back door, flung open the screen door and let it slam with a swack that echoed so loud that the crickets paused their chirping.
Constance didn’t look behind her as she ran towards Nate’s yard. She didn’t consider how she was going to hop the fence that she never hopped before while she was holding a container full of boiled chicken and cabbage. She didn’t notice the lights of the house turning on first upstairs, then downstairs. And, at first, she didn’t see them all, floating around her, watching, waiting. Nate howled again (or laughed?). Constance looked frantically for where the sound was coming from and that’s when she realized, when she saw them. She realized that she wasn’t squinting through the dark night to try and see. Her yard and Nate’s yard were lit and sparkling with THE yellow and blue lights. Two of the lights, floating in front of her, guiding her way to Nate. Slowly, two little beautiful creatures, about the size of Constance’s index finger came into focus. They had iridescent wings that glowed blue on the top and yellow on the bottom. Their chocolatey brown eyes beamed at her with, was it pride? Constance had never had anyone (or anything?) look at her like that before, at least that she could remember. She lifted up her left finger slowly to touch them, and the creature on her right gently grabbed it and started to pull and softly said “it’s time to go”.
Nate made another sound. Nate! Constance had forgotten her mission for a moment. But this time there was no mistaking the sound. Nate, the lanky wrinkly wonderful hound was laughing. She made her way over to the fence which divided the house she lived in from the neighbor’s house, but the fence seemed to have disappeared. Constance also realized she wasn’t holding the container of leftovers anymore. And there in front of her was Nate, rolling on the ground while at least 50 little yellow and blue creatures tickled his belly and scratched his ears. The whole yard was a glow and time seemed to be standing still. There was no chain around Nate’s neck, and the tether ball pole was gone. Instead there was a little bubbling bowl of water and plates upon plates of food. A red blanket was on the ground next to Nate and on it sat the container that once held last night’s sad supper. But the container was empty and beside it on a big blue platter was fried chicken and a golden peach pie. Constance had been so worried about Nate starving that until that moment, she forgot that she was hungry too.
Her two guide creatures took her over to the blanket and fixed her a plate, all while singing the prettiest song she ever heard.
Constance was taking giant alternating bites between her chicken and her pie and laughing with and at Nate’s pure silliness. The glowing lights of the creature’s wings reflected in his big dark eyes.
There was a small voice of worry in Constance’s head. Just a few moments ago (or was it hours, time suddenly was hard to put a finger on) she was facing the biggest trouble she’d ever been in. She was seconds away from getting caught sneaking food and sneaking out of the house. Another small voice was convincing Constance that this was all a dream, too good to be true, and she was really just asleep in her hot room, in her hot bed in the house where she lived.
“Hurry”, said one of the creatures calmly, “it’s almost time to go”. Constance’s heart sank. Even in her dreams there’s a time limit on happiness. But Constance was soon going to find out this wasn’t a dream.
SWACK! The screen door of the house crashed shut and for one very short moment, time stopped before it seemed to speed up so fast that all Constance could see was a blur. A blur of yellow and blue light. A blur of people running towards her. A blur of the happiest moments she had ever had.
Her aunt was running all around the yard, arms flailing and screaming “Catch them! Catch them all!” and in an instant, Constance’s vision cleared and she saw her cousins with giant fishing nets trying to scoop up all of the creatures and extinguish their beautiful glowing lights. One of Constance’s cousins was right in front of her and swung their net hard, capturing at least 20 creatures in its violent sweep. She couldn’t watch, it was all too terrible. There was a large burst inside the net and when she looked up, the net’s bottom was blown out, and all of the creatures were gone. What was happening? Constance almost couldn’t bear the hopelessness she felt looking at that empty net. Boom! Another net exploded. Her cousins were swinging their nets wildly, her aunt screaming louder than ever, “Catch them!”. Boom! Another net exploded. Constance looked around frantically for Nate, he was now standing in front of her, teeth bared, protecting....her? She had always thought she was his protector, but Nate lunged at any cousin who came near to them. The two creatures who had guided her to Nate, to her perfect picnic, to the happiest moments of her life were now the only two lights in the night. All of the other lights had disappeared. “It’s time to go,” said the one on the left. The cousins were now charging towards them. “It’s time to go,” said the one on the right. The cousins were almost upon them. “RUN!” the creatures shouted to her before they too burst into flames and disappeared right in front of Constance’s eyes. She saw her cousins running towards her. Nate was baring his teeth, ready to attack. She had no idea what was happening, but knew she had to run. As though he could read her mind, Nate turned and started running and Constance followed. They ran until the house was no longer in sight. They ran until they would never see the house again.
10 Years Later
The sidewalks were still wet from the morning rain but the sun was beginning to peer from behind the clouds and heat up the day just enough so everything was fragrant. The flowers were just starting to bloom on the trees planted strategically along the city street. The restaurants were firing up their ovens, and the bakeries had just put out their last batch of fresh pastries for the day.
Hundreds of people rushed down the street, their voices all commingling to create the chaotic but almost inaudible sound of a crowd. For the most part, individual people were indiscernible. A wash of tan coats, pastels, and cellphones. If you zoomed up from the planet and viewed this city street from the sky, it would very likely look like one single brushstroke of an impressionist painting.
But, if you zoomed in, very close, you could see the young woman with the rusty red hair. After all of these years, she still looked over her shoulder every once in a while. And she still had a lanky, wrinkly hound dog with large warm eyes by her side. Constance had aged into a brave young woman. Nate hadn’t aged a day.
Constance wore her bravery like a battle scar. She knew all too well that in order to be brave, you have to be scared, to face your fears. And Constance had a lifetime of facing her fears.
In the ten-years since she left the house, Constance and Nate lived in many places, they had a thousand adventures, and they saw many terrible and many wonderful things. But they never again saw the yellow and blue lights from that night so many years ago. And this caused a pain and loneliness in Constance’s heart that always threatened to morph into bitterness and resentment, and it always made her wonder if she had dreamt up the whole thing.
In fact, above all of her fears, Constance was most frightened at the thought that she had dreamt up the whole thing. Because, sometimes, believing in magic was the only thing that kept her heart beating. Well, believing in magic, and Nate.
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August
At first, Constance didn’t notice anything different about the day. The same people rushed past her on the street (or were they different people, it was impossible to tell), the smell of the bay, and the wet weather it daily brought in, were in the air, and the sounds of the city were buzzing in her ears and her head.
Then, when she began to notice a different feeling to the day, a different buzz inside her head, she tried to ignore it. She had felt this many times throughout the years, the first sparkles of magic, of the presence of the yellow and blue lights. But each time the sparkles would disappear almost as quickly as they came, and it would feel like her heart would sustain a new crack.
Constance kept on walking up the steep hill that led to the bookstore where she worked, Nate striding beside her, sniffing the air, seemingly sensing the magic in the air.
They were a block away from the bookstore. Constance hurried her pace, trying to shake off any feelings of sparkles or hope. But as they passed the last alleyway before the bookstore, Nate paused.
Constance was so used to the feeling of Nate by her side, that it only took moments, even on the crowded street, for her to feel his absence. She looked back and lost her breath when she saw Nate’s eyes. Reflected in his large warm eyes, that were looking excitedly down the alleyway, were dancing yellow and blue lights.
In that moment, the last ten-years flashed through Constance’s mind. The summer night that she left, the months traveling with Nate before she could get as far away as possible from the terrible house, the wishing upon stars, full moons, dandelion puffs, and anything she could find, that the fairies would come back. The loneliness when they didn’t. She thought of her years of working at restaurants, traveling fairs, and any place that would believe she was older than she was - working while other kids were in school, having sleepovers, being tucked in at night.
Constance felt like she was at a crossroads. All of these terrible memories could send her into a darkness that would keep her heart safe. But the memory of that one night, that beautiful night ten-years ago, held in it more joy than the pain of the past years contained hurt. Afterall, they hadn’t been all bad, and they had been away from the terrible house.
With every bit of bravery that this already very brave girl had, she walked towards the alley.
She reached Nate and joined his gaze, mostly expecting to see nothing of note, but also a little bit hoping to see her little saviors once again.
At the end of the alley, past the dumpsters and fire escape ladders, Constance could see a young girl dancing with yellow and blue lights floating all around her. The girl’s face looked like she was about 11-years-old, the same age Constance was on that hot summer night. But she was tall for her age, just like Constance was.
Curly tendrils of long purple hair framed the child’s joyful face. She wore a long white peasant skirt with stains of dirt and paint, and a vintage faded pink Black Sabbath t-shirt that matched her worn out pink rain boots. And even though she was enclosed by three giant brick walls, she danced like she was the freest spirit on planet earth.
And though she wouldn’t reminisce on it for many years later, that was the day Constance met August.
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Keeper of the Lost Ones
Constance knew a Lost One when she saw them. Lost ones always have a special tinge of sadness around their eyes. But the sadness is not their identifying mark. We all have some sort of sadness coloring our true selves. What sets a Lost One apart is their hope. You see, if you didn’t have hope of someday being found by someone, you wouldn’t be lost. Lost Ones still show up, day after day, and sometimes year after year, walking their paths, somewhere in their minds wondering if today will be the day that they are finally found.
It’s a special brand of bravery that often gets misdiagnosed as naivety. However, keeping a hold of even the thinnest shreds of hope is one of the bravest things a person can do.
Constance could identify all of this in a person by just once glance. Some people call it reading someone’s aura, other people may call it intuitive. Constance just knew when she was meeting a kindred spirit, a fellow Lost One.
And while the years had been hard on Constance, she never let her heart be hardened, especially when it came to caring for the Lost Ones.
There were times she thought she must be the most unlucky person to ever be born. It seemed like every road she traveled would have an injured or hungry animal. Every abandoned spider web had a trapped butterfly, and every nest had a fallen baby bird struggling to figure out how to get back to safety. She vowed to try and reverse her luck by doing whatever she could to protect these creatures. She never passed a trapped bug without freeing it, a stray without letting it join her journey, or an injured bird without trying to heal it. While her hope for being found was quieted (just quieted, not gone), she was content with helping other beings be found.
Strays never stayed with Constance and Nate for long. Without fail, someone on their journey would fall in love with their temporary companions and Constance and Nate would say goodbye.
For the most part, the birds only needed a quiet and safe place to rest, or a quick readjustment of their wings before they could fly away and go one with their lives, forever chirping a special tune of gratitude for Constance.
On the occasion that the tiny Lost Ones couldn’t be healed or saved, Constance and Nate would sit with them, keep them comfortable, and send them on to the next world, or wherever their little souls traveled, with love.
And on that day, standing next to Nate, looking down the alleyway at the dancing purple-haired child, Constance knew, even before knowing her name, that August was a Lost One. Just like her.
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