TigerLily's Lagoon

[tigerlilyxx]

Once again, feet find a path, quickly, with purpose. Earbuds stuck in her ears, low rise jeans hugging her body, phone sticking out of her pocket, a light blue bikini top on her torso. Her hips sway to the music, and her feet slide, stumble. Walking in the woods, she can do. Dancing, not so much. She smiles, catches herself, and laughs at her clumsiness.

She raises her arms over her head as she dances, and sings quietly to the song. She loves the word play, the puns, and she's been listening to it over and over for a few days. Her body moves, not very gracefully, as she sings, and laughs, enjoying herself in the wonderful weather, the pretty night sky.

She looks around, and then climbs onto a large, flat topped boulder, laying herself on it, knees bent, in the air, feet flat on the hot rock. She looks up at the sky as the music plays. This, this is perfect.

 

[tigerlilyxx]

She pads down the path and rushed to her chest, digging through it to once again find her notebook before the story leaves her. An idea, rather. The beginnings of a story. One she hopes will catch someone's interest. She grabs it and pulls out the pen, flipping it over before sits on the blanket, and starts to write, her messy handwriting becoming even harder to read as she writes with speed.

Alice woke, jumped, turned, searching for the cause of her abrupt awakening. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, chestnut curls struck her face as her head turned.

Yelling. That’s what it was. But who? She tried to calm herself enough to focus, but it wasn't helping. She stood, slowly, grabbed her robe, and slipped it on, moving quietly toward the door. She pulled it open, just a crack, and peered out.

A man she'd never seen before. That explained why she didn't recognize the voice. But why was he in the house, yelling at her father?

He towered over her father, and though he was elderly, he was not small. The man made him look not only small, but weak. His frame was large; his height alone made him seem massive, but his broad shoulders and likely his booming voice added to his size, and Alice shuddered.

Pulling her robe closer to her, she pulled the door open and stepped out, standing as tall as she could, trying not to seem frightened. "Father, what's going on?"

Had she bothered to take a second and listen to the man's yelling, and her father's responses, she probably would not have exited her room. Her father turned to look at her, the confident look on his face disappearing as he heard her. The large man turned to her, and the scowl turned into a rather unsettling grin.

"Carl was just leaving," he told her. "Go back to your room."

Not removing his eyes from Alice, the stranger, apparently named Carl, spoke. "I don't think I was, Jeffry. In fact, I think you've been hiding the solution to this argument this entire time. You never mentioned a daughter."

Her father’s face hardened and he stepped between Carl and Alice. "She is not a solution to this argument. You are being unreasonable, and you deserve nothing for your mistake. Those swords were precisely what you asked for. If you asked for the wrong thing, and your master is dissatisfied, that is not my fault; you got what you requested and paid for. I owe you nothing."

"I think," the man began, his scowl returning. "That you owe me more than you believe, and I think that you are going to give me what I want, regardless of your belief." He took a step toward him, and her father stood his ground. Alice, however, took a step back, into the wall behind her. "And if you don't give her to me," he continued, looking directly at Alice as he spoke, "that I will take what I want, and leave you in a puddle of your own blood."

"My daughter is not a bargaining chip, Carl. And she's not going with you." He reached back as he spoke and gripped a sword that lay nearby, one of many. He pulled it to him and held it up, taking a step back. "We both know who the better swordsman is, Carl. You do not stand a chance. Leave."

With one last look at Alice, the man turned and left. She had the unsettling feeling that he'd be back. She rushed to her father’s side as the man slammed the door behind him. His prowess as a swordsman was well known, but it had been years since he’d had to prove himself. Only he and Alice knew that he wasn't able to fight like he used to. Age had finally caught up to him. Alice took the sword and looked at him, sighing before speaking.

"If I have to give myself for your life, I would do so," she told him.

He shook his head. "I will not ever let you do that. And you will not have to. They still fear me, Alice."

"He's going to come back," she told him.

"I know," he responded. "But he'll get no more from us then than he got today."

 

[tigerlilyxx]

Each time a bare foot hits the path, anger can be heard in the step. Her steps aren’t deliberate or smooth like they usually are. They’re messy, and she falters, a stick catches her skin, and she curses. Without hesitation, without removing her nice clothes, she dives into the water. Her black skirt sticks to her, making the movements difficult and restrained. She can’t make herself care. Her arms do most of the work, trying to swim until she can’t move anymore.

She finds a high rock to rest on in the water, lets her face break the surface to catch her breath, arms sore. This is how it’s always been. She can’t figure out why she expected anything different, anything to change. She was never the most important or cared for. She always got left behind. This time wasn’t any different. She wipes away a tear and dives back under, pulling her skirt off and letting it fall to the rock. She shakes, calms herself, and swims. And she refuses to stop until her lungs, arms and legs ached. Until she wasn’t sure exactly how long she’d been swimming.

When she pulled herself out of the water, she forced herself to stand, to walk, just to get to her spot under the canopy before collapsing, chest heaving, body still needing the air of which it had been deprived.