Short Stories

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There is a land just outside of time, a land existing just beyond the recall of dreams. The waking world cannot touch it, and the dreamer is left to wonder where they wandered the night before. Mysteries of this land are usually forever veiled by the cloud that reigns over conscious thought, but every once in a great while there is a mystery that cannot be contained, a secret story that wills itself out.

Even in this rare case, it can be lost in busy distraction, and is left to float until it withers from neglect. But sometimes, if the timing is just right, and the story strong enough, it will endure. This special mystery braves the cold reality of the waking world and finds its way to one who will delight in its company, but even better, will want to share. The story itself is damaged and will never be what it was in its own land, but all the same, was meant for the sharing. This is just such a story.

Be mindful, this may not have a happy ending, at least in the view of some. But if you are searching for happiness here, be careful. It is not the place of stories, or mysteries, or secrets to bring such joy. If you seek such things, stop looking – happiness is right next to you.

The story begins with a very little girl, born a princess – not a castle princess, but the daughter of a chief. When the girl was born her father, Wise Laughter, took one look at her and declared, “She will be a great beauty like her mother!”

Her mother, Pretty Bird, took one look at her and declared, “She has the gentleness of her father about her face!” So they named her Blessing.

It would be best to say she was born innocent, free, and joyful, stayed that way throughout her life, and died just as innocent and joyful as she began life. That is not the nature of stories, however, and most unfortunately, not the nature of life in this land. She was born innocent and free, yes, but she did not stay so.

The beginning of Blessing’s life was as it should have been. There is no childhood like that of one who was raised with towering cedar trees for a playground and the ocean singing lullabies each night. But evil lurked in paradise just the same. Blessing’s uncle was named Fear of Nothing, and all he needed was one look at Blessing to declare, “I must have her!” Although his name was Fear of Nothing, few knew his mother named him so because she saw that he had a fear of everything. When he saw Blessing, he had a great fear inside of him that he could not explain, and what Fear did not understand he had to destroy.

Blessing was still very small when Fear could no longer hold himself back. Every time he looked at her, whether she was playing on the beaches or helping the women pick salmonberries, his envy and desire grew. She knew no fear, not like him, and he envied her easy happiness. For a short time his fear of being hated and cast out by the people held him back, but this other fear, the one he could not name, grew stronger still.

On a sunny day in the summer season Blessing was climbing about the large rocks on the beach. Fear saw that the little girl’s mother was busy smoking salmon and her father was out hunting seal. The rest of the village was busy taking care of daily life, and could hardly notice a single man walking out to the boulders, and would hardly care if they did. They did not notice the canoe he had placed ahead of time, nor the preparations he had made as if going on a hunting trip. Nobody noticed his quick move to grab Blessing, or tie her up, or throw her under a blanket in the canoe. Even as he rowed away, a peculiar time for him to be leaving, especially with no word of where he was going, everyone in the village chose not to notice.

Even now Blessing knew no fear. Confusion, certainly, but there was nothing in her short lifetime to say this was in any way something that should not be. So she waited, silently, and in the rocking of the canoe along many hours of rapid rowing, she could find honest peace even in being taken away from all that she knew to be good and lovely. Blessing slept. Sometime in the night Fear of Nothing stopped and pulled the canoe up on the shore. He rolled out the blankets and set up a fire, heating some of the food stores he brought. Then it was time for Blessing to wake up.

What happened that night is what nobody speaks of, and so it cannot be spoken. What happened is the stuff of nightmares nobody really remembers, and horrors little girls were not created to experience. She was born innocent and free and joyful, but Blessing had to wake up. She woke up to Fear, and the cedar trees that were once her playground loomed obscenely and would do nothing to help. She woke up to terror and the ocean that once sang her lullabies swallowed her screams.

Near morning Fear got up and moved to stoke the fire. Blessing lay weeping silently, for her voice had long given up asking for help, and she stared deep into the dark woods. They did not seem so inviting now, for now she knew that all was not right. That night she was introduced to all that could go wrong and terrifying, and she saw the difference everywhere. The day before, a lifetime ago, she would have looked at the pair of glowing eyes from beside the bushes and been curious, delighted even. Now all she saw was the threat. Things could hurt out there. They could hurt bad. As Fear moved the bits of glowing coal around he said, almost sadly, “Your name is no longer Blessing. Your name is Pain.”

In some ways Pain would always think that she could have handled what happened that night much better if the morning had gone differently. If Fear had taken her away then, and she knew only the world he introduced her to, or if he had simply killed her… maybe things would have been different. Instead Fear showed her more, he showed her worse. He took her back to the village.

In one night the whole village seemed to change. The colors were all different, and life moved more slowly. The great painted faces on the sides of the cedar houses no longer grinned at Blessing, but bared their teeth in anger. Fear pulled up the canoe and simply left Pain there. Pain did not know what to, but she reacted out of what she wanted most.

First Pain ran to look for her father, Wise Laughter. He was the chief, the head of the house, and he would know how to make this go away. She saw him coming down the beach and ran to him, arms out wide. Wise Laughter brushed past his daughter, telling her to go play, and continued on to hunt for seals. Pain realized he hadn’t even looked at her, and understood that she must not look so beautiful anymore.

Pain knew Pretty Bird would look at her though, and so she ran in search of her mother. She found her sewing a blanket for the upcoming celebration. “Blessing! Where were you!” her mother cried, and then looked at her. Her mother’s eyes got very old, and very sad. “You’re not Blessing now, are you? What is your name?”

“Pain,” she said, holding out her arms to be held.

Her mother put the blanket in Pain’s outstretched arms, “It’s best to keep busy. Then maybe they won’t see that you aren’t Blessing anymore. They might not see that you’re Pain. It’s best they believe you’re not.”

Pain began working on the blanket immediately, and together they kept busy in silence.

Several years passed, and Pain realized that her old life was just a dream. Sometimes it would come up in the night, the beauty of it, the cool green and the lapping ocean. But Pain knew every morning she would have to wake up again, and the dream became too much hurt to think of.

Now would be the time to say Pain’s mother and father found out what was happening, and they put a stop to it. Now would be the time for the love of parents to come shining through, for they did love their daughter very much. It’s just not that kind of story.

Instead Fear came again, and he always came. He filled endless nights for Pain, for he knew the secret that Pain did not, nor did her mother. Blessing did not die that one night, nor even the next, or in the years to come. The little girl that was Blessing died very slowly, very lonely on the beach, and he took her there on many nights to take what he could before she did. She did not become Pain overnight, but over many nights, and still nobody noticed.

One day somebody did. As Fear brought Pain back in one morning, she knew he was done with her. She did not know why, but Fear did, for there was nothing left for him to take. As he strode away for the last time, Pretty Bird came walking up the beach.

“Pain!” she cried. “Why were you with Fear of Nothing?”

All Pain did was look at her mother.

“Your uncle made you this way, didn’t he?” she said, and Pain could see her anger burn.

Pretty Bird wasted no time in what she knew needed to be done. She motioned for Pain to follow her, and they marched into the clan house.

“Justice!” she declared, and all the men and women of the house stopped. “There must be justice for my daughter!”

Wise Laughter and the elder men stopped her and asked her what was the matter.

“It is my daughter,” she said. “Her name used to be Blessing, but no longer. Her uncle, Fear of Nothing, turned her into Pain. There must be Justice. Pain will tell them what he did!”

At the urging of her mother, with tears streaming down her face, Pain told them of that first night, and more nights after. As she spoke the men’s faces grew hard and they looked at each other nervously. The women grew red in the face and turned their faces away from Pain and her mother. Pain grew frightened and refused to tell any more.

She turned to see what her father was doing, and saw that he was crying, but he would not look at her either.

“Fear of Nothing,” said Wise Laughter. “Is what they say true?”

Fear came out of the shadows, trembling. This was his worst nightmare, to be held out in the village like this. He began to weep, and fell on his knees.

“Please!” he cried. “It is not so bad as she says! She’s just a little girl and she makes too much of it! I can change! It is in the past, just let it go! Where will I go? What will I do?”

Another figure came out of the shadows; it was Fear’s mother, Bitter Herbs.

“Don’t punish my son!” she wept, and threw herself at Wise Laughter. “He is sick and doesn’t know any better. Think of him, think of his life!”

At this Pretty bird stepped out again, demanding of her husband justice.

“Do not listen to him, or this woman! She is my mother as well, and see how she does not think of me or my daughter? Think of Pain, for she hurts too much!”

Pain did not understand what was going on, but the men began to talk. They talked for a long time, and Wise Laughter seemed to argue most of all, but in the end he grew very quiet.

Finally the men stopped talking, and Wise Laughter turned to the center. He still would not look at Pain, and Pain realized he did not look at his wife either.

“We have decided,” he began, “that for the good of the village, we will not talk of these things any more. They cause too much grief for everyone, and that is not good. These things are in the past, and Fear has promised not to do them again.”

The village as a whole agreed, and seemed relieved. Fear and his mother embraced with tears and laughter, and everyone quickly got up to leave.

“Stop!” came the scream.

Everyone stopped. It was Pretty Bird, and she was furious, and weeping.

“Don’t you see?” she cried. “Don’t you see what he ruined? She was lovely and innocent, and now she is Pain! This should not have happened! Something must be done! You must look at her! Look at her and see the harm, see the hurt, and then you will see!”

The village cried out their shock. She had gone against the chief, her husband no less, and she dared to go against the right way. Wise Laughter seemed confused, and then angry. The men whispered around him, while Fear and Bitter Herbs began weeping and begging once more.

“Woman,” said Wise Laughter, “these are our ways. You must accept them.”

Pretty Bird stood to face him full on, “If this is the cost, if you cannot look at Pain and see her right, and bring her justice, then I will not follow your ways.”

The village now stood in silence, for this was just not done. The men seemed to waste no time in talking, as the women stood to the side and whispered amongst themselves.

“It is decided,” said Wise Laughter. “We cannot have such disruption and disrespect in the village. It brings about evil. So either you must accept the way things are and put these things in the past, or you must leave us. It is your choice.”

Pretty Bird’s face changed. She had looked old since Blessing became Pain, but there was something more Pain saw. She saw a strength she had not seen before, and it seemed the one friendly thing she had seen in all her memory. It was a light she saw only in dreams, and it came from her mother’s eyes.

“If it is my choice, then it is my choice,” said Pretty Bird. “But they will know all of the truth, even if they choose not to see Pain. My name is not Pretty Bird! Many years ago Pretty Bird died, and I became Grief for the Lost. You did not see me, for I was busy, and made pretty things, but I am Grief for the Lost still. But I see more than that, for all of you have been walking around with false names. I see you, and I know you, and I have still made these pretty things for you. But I will not do that any more.

“If you cannot have such things in the village, if this is the way it must be, my daughter and I will leave. If you cannot protect her, I will.”

With this Grief for the Lost took Pain by the hand, and walked away. She took some supplies, and a canoe, and they left. Pain kept looking back, seeing the village go quickly back to the daily routine as if nothing had happened. In horror she watched her uncle turn his gaze, not to her, but to her cousin Golden Smile, who had as much life in him as Pain once had. She knew and understood the look in Fear’s eyes, and was afraid for Golden Smile, but could do nothing. Blessing waved at her father, who stood sadly by the entrance to the house, but he would not look at her. He seemed to try and get Grief’s attention, but her mother never looked back.

As the pair paddled away on the strength of Grief’s anger, tears streamed down her face. Pain knew she would not want to talk, and so they ventured on in silence. Hours later they were in waters unfamiliar to Pain. The cedars and beaches rolling by were completely new to her, and it was awhile before she realized they were new for Grief as well. Then, just off in the distance, Pain saw a small island come into view. There was but a single cedar house on it, small, and she wondered at why that was. The crest on the front of the house was her own; Pain turned to her mother. Grief viewed the house suspiciously, and then her eyebrows shot up.

Pain turned and saw that a man was now on the beach, with a little white seal by his side. He was young, but she could not see much from this distance. Yet somehow his eyes caught her attention. They stared at her, and she knew they were staring solely at her. She grew nervous, for the only one to ever look at her was her uncle.

“Remember, Pain, you cannot trust any man, especially one who looks at you like that!” said Grief, sounding frightened.

She paddled quicker, and as they passed him by he simply waved, and Pain thought he smiled. Whatever it was, she was not so alarmed anymore. It was a smile that made her feel the same as when her mother was standing up for her in the village. It was a smile that brought back the dream of the light, a smile she would always remember.

For days the pair traveled further and further away, camping each night tucked into the forest as to not be seen. Pain did not appreciate how vulnerable they were as Grief would never let her know. But Grief did push her to cook more, even being so young still, as well as paddle and even hunt small game. She would frequently give her chores requiring her to go far from their camp, chores that were considered beyond her in the village. Sometimes she would fumble it, like when her small fingers could not grasp the fish just right as she cleaned it, and it slipped into the stream and sailed away. Grief looked tired, but told her to catch another and try again. Always, Pain tried again.

One evening just before the time they would be finding a spot to camp, a village came into view. This was not a village that looked remotely like a village to Pain, however, and she was awed. Instead of stately cedar houses with towering totem poles flanking every side, there were small houses made from logs, and some just as tall as a cedar house, but with strange holes in the sides. The people busy outside, mostly fisherman, looked very strange to Pain. They wore strange clothing and their faces were paler than those in her village. As the pair beached the canoe, these people looked at them curiously, and then paid little heed.

Grief and Pain walked up the beach, Grief seeming as if she knew where she was going. As they passed a group of the fisherman one of them said something in a language Pain did not recognize, and they all laughed. When Pain tried to smile at them, they laughed even harder. Grief paid them no heed and went straight into the center of the village. She went into the biggest of these strange houses, leaving Pain to wait outside and watch the frightening new place. There were a few that looked to be her kind of people with the earth colored skin, but even they were wearing strange clothes. Most everybody had this paler skin, and walked by Pain as if she wasn’t there.

Much later Grief came out and told Pain to follow her. Pain did not know until years later how hard Grief worked to secure the job and the housing she did, for she made it seem as if that was just the way things were done. They found their way to a large house and went inside, and climbed up the strangest ladder attached inside of the house, and into a single room with a large bed raised up off the floor. Grief acted as if all this were quite normal, so Pain did too.

The whole summer season Grief and Pain cooked and cleaned in what they learned was called a hotel. They quickly learned the strange new language, although the new language was much quicker than the old one. The whole village was quicker than the old one. Every day things had to be done a certain way at a certain time, and Pain wondered at why they needed to be this way. It didn’t seem to make sense to be rushed all the time. She did the work though, and her mother showed her how. One day she came upon her mother cleaning the toilets, getting very dirty, and felt so sad. Her mother, the wife of a chief, was doing slave’s work. Grief never complained though, and looked as proud as she did when hosting a potlatch with her husband. This is the way Pain learned to be.

At the end of the summer Pain was told she would be going to school. She had heard about this place from some of the other girls like herself, and they hated it. Once she was there, she began to see why.

“Great, another one,” said the woman as Pain arrived on the first day. “What is your name?”

Pain learned that the woman’s name was Ms. Futile, and all of the earth skinned children lived in fear of her noticing them. Pain was placed in back, with her kind, and given a book.

“I don’t expect you’ll do much with this, just like them, but try all the same,” said Ms. Futile, and went back up to the front.

“Try” was a word Pain recognized at once, and try she did. For months she tried desperately to follow along with the class, finding it difficult at best. Many times she wasn’t even sure what she was supposed to be learning, she just dug into what she was given. Most of the other children like herself had given up long ago. They never wanted Ms. Futile to see them, because whenever she did she berated their efforts in front of the class.

There was one incident in which the girl sitting next to Pain was supposed to tell the class about some animals that lived in this place. It was quickly clear she didn’t know, and she stammered and lowered her head in shame. Ms. Futile looked exasperated.

“You people are supposed to know this stuff!” she said, and shooed her back to the class.

She spent the next hour telling the class which animals lived around them, and had them write them all down. Pain could see it was enough of an effort for those of her kind just to write down the foreign language being rattled off at rapid pace, much less register what was being taught. At lunchtime she thought she might try and help.

Pain found the girl and asked her name.

“Slow One,” she said. “At least that’s what they call me here. They called me Quick Smile back in my village.”

Pain decided to call her Quick, though everyone else continued to call her Slow. For the whole lunchtime Pain told Quick stories, stories of how Raven stole the sun, and how Bear got his tail, and about Frog Woman and Seagull and even the great Devilfish. As she talked some of the other earth skinned children heard and gathered closer. Pain retold story after story, for awhile feeling as if she was back in the great cedar house as the elders told them long into the night. But this time she was in the place of the elder.

The other children laughed at the parts that were funny, and looked surprised at the right parts, and were angry, just as she used to be, when she told the story of Devilfish and the girl’s disrespect for her village. Then, just before they were to go back to class, she asked Quick to recount to her some animals that lived around there. Quick’s eyes lit up in surprise, and she rattled off half a dozen, all from the stories, as the rest of the children laughed and encouraged her. Then all of a sudden everyone got real quiet. Pain turned her head just in time to have it slapped by Ms. Futile.

“Stop talking in that filthy language!” she screamed. “Are you just trying to make my job harder? It’s not enough to have to try and teach you something, but to have to listen to you talking gibberish, and probably all about me! Never speak it again!”

She stormed off, and the children scattered. Pain had not even realized she had slipped into speaking the old language. As Pain watched Quick in class that afternoon, and how she could pay a little more attention to what was being said because she understood it, she knew it was worth it. Every day at lunch Pain took what was being taught in class and turned it into a story, or a play. She knew her people learned by being shown, not told, so she took what was told her and decided to teach it again so the others could learn as well. It required her to work even harder at learning the language, and spending hours and hours studying things ahead of time, but each time she saw eyes light up with understanding, it was worth it.

That summer Pain worked in the hotel again, this time cleaning rooms. She was not supposed to be seen so that the guests wouldn’t know it was a darker skinned person cleaning up, but one day she was running behind the schedule. A man walked into the room she was cleaning, a very tall man, and Pain quickly recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same look her uncle gave her. He shut the door, and only a short time later Pain felt the same as the endless nights on the beach with her uncle. As she left, head down and tears held back, she realized she truly wasn’t safe anywhere.

He was only the first of many. The times did not come often, but they were endless. The whole summer, and then into the years as Pain grew up, she learned that those times were never going to end. That was just the way things were, and as far as she could tell, the thing she was best for. She never told her mother; it was not as if they could leave. Grief had given up everything to protect Pain, and here she was, causing the same thing to be done to her time after time.

Pain lived only for those times at school, helping the other children understand this world. She quickly became very good at school, better even than the paler skinned children. But whenever Ms. Futile looked at her, it was only to see what she was doing wrong, so it didn’t seem to matter. Each summer she headed off to work again, and to more of the same with the men.

As she grew older Pain learned that if she didn’t wash, didn’t brush her hair, and never smiled, the men would leave her alone. This encouraged her, even though at school people made fun of her. All she knew was there were no more nights. But now her mother was angry.

“You used to be so lovely, now look at you!” she cried, not once. “After all I’ve done, after all I’ve given up, you just don’t seem to want us to be happy here! Why can’t you learn to be more like these paler children, with their pretty hair and clean clothes? Just try harder!”

Pain tried, but after the first look by a man, stopped trying, and never did again. Her mother was angry, and began to turn her away, but Pain had to protect herself somehow. So she continued to live only for those moments with the other children, though she did try harder to act like the paler children.

For years this was Pain’s life, and she began more and more to forget the old one. Just as her first years became a dream, much of the village became a nightmare, something to remember, and yet to forget. She thought of it as another person, somebody in one of her stories. She imagined new names for herself, and in her stories Pain couldn’t touch her.

One lunchtime there was a new listener. He was a pale skinned boy, and at first the others were uncomfortable and didn’t know what to do. For many years now Pain had told stories, and the pale skinned children never bothered listening. The nervous dark skinned children looked to Pain to see what she was going to do. At first she was nervous, but once she began a story she forgot all but the story. The boy seemed even more intent on listening than the usual people, and he laughed harder, and was more surprised. Soon she realized she was telling the story mostly for him, and enjoyed it more as his eyes lit up and stayed lit up.

After school the boy came up to Pain. This surprised her as well, as the other pale skinned children did not speak to any of the earth skinned. She learned his name was Sunny, and that was exactly what he was. They talked the whole way back to her home. He was very soon a fixed figure at lunchtime, and every day he would walk her home and they would talk. At times Pain would grow nervous because of the way he looked at her, but the lunchtime stories and walks home were worth it. She didn’t really think Sunny would hurt her anyways.

Although the times with Sunny were short, they were worth all the other time alone. For nearly the whole school year this was their practice, but on the last day of school, as Pain feared, it had to end. Sunny’s parents were moving away, and as he told her that he would be leaving that afternoon, he handed her something. It was a little smooth seal he had carved out of yellow cedar.

“It’s something to know me by,” he said.

As he left her there he turned and waved, and that same look that was in his eyes was there stronger than ever. He waved, and something about it seemed so familiar to Pain. But all she could do was weep. She could understand her mother’s name a little more, Grief for the Lost.

That summer was the longest ever, and the following school year seemed to lose much of the color. Learning was harder, the stories were harder, and in many ways Pain wished Sunny had never been there. She felt even more alone now, and it seemed unbearable. She thought of her mother who had given up everything, and just tried harder.

On a winter night Pain came into their room to find her mother weeping.

“Your cousin Golden Smile is dead,” said Grief.

Pain did not cry, or ask how her mother knew, or what they were going to do. Golden Smile was her mother’s sister’s firstborn, her mother’s favored. He was a strong warrior, even as a child, and he could always make everyone laugh.

That day they set off for the village. This time Pain did all of the paddling as Grief stared off at nothing. They went on for days, and Pain didn’t realize she knew the way back so well. The days were quick, much quicker than she remembered them being on the way there.

Paddling one day in a soft snowfall she saw the island again, off in the distance. They passed it a little closer now, and she was surprised to see the same man on the beach, with the little white seal. They passed him in silence, and she could feel his eyes watching from afar. He waved, and she almost waved back this time, but thought better of it. She turned her head and kept on towards the village, but her mind was involved with who this man was, and why he was there.

Seeing the village for the first time was more of a shock than Pain knew what to do with. She had been preparing herself for old memories coming back, but not this. In her memory, and her nightmares, the village was always the same. The big cedar houses lined the grass line, the totem poles sticking up like porcupine needles all about them, large canoes beached as men and women busied themselves about the day.

Now in place of the cedar houses were houses like the village she had left, the pale skinned village. Only the big house, the central house remained. The totem poles remained for the most part, but now they looked naked and somewhat foolish beside the dozens of individual houses. The men and women were busy about the beach and houses, but the canoes were much replaced by the smaller boats she had seen about the pale skinned village. She wasn’t quite sure how to react.

Her mother seemed not to notice, or to care. She headed straight to the big house, and Pain followed. Only once they were inside did Pain feel as if she remembered things correctly. The smell of the cedar and smoked fish, the old women sitting on their blankets, chattering as they wove baskets, the children wandering about trying to nip some berries from their mothers and being batted away, the men sitting in a loose circle near the smoldering fire – this was part of the dream.

As soon as Pain and Grief entered, however, the scene changed dramatically. Women came running over in greeting, weeping their hellos, and embraced Grief with fervor. They fussed over her and asked how she was doing. Then Pain watched in awe as she saw her father Wise Laughter again, yet he was not the same man. In memory he was big and strong and brave. She saw him now and was sad. He was still the same physically, and she knew his name to be Wise Laughter, but she suspected now his name wasn’t really his own, that her mother, in telling them all she knew their real names, was talking about her father as well.

Pain looked to her father now to greet her, and embrace her. He still did not look at her, but looked to Grief for the Lost. They said nothing, but fell on each other and wept. Pain knew her mother would not leave this place again.

From the corner of her eye Pain saw a familiar shadow. She turned to face her uncle Fear of Nothing head on. He shrank back, lowering his eyes. There was a difference in him too. Pain couldn’t understand it, for here was her nightmare in the flesh, here was everything she saw in the night, every startled jump. Here he was, and she was not afraid. She saw him for his rightful name, Fear of Everything. She looked at him, looked at the misery and guilt that held his shoulders down, and could feel only pity. She spotted her grandmother Bitter Herbs behind him, and saw what bitterness had done. She was stuck in a very ugly place, and she wouldn’t get out.

The whole village walked with Grief over to one of the smaller houses. Golden Smile was lying on a bed, one of the raised up ones Pain had become accustomed to. In death he didn’t look the kind of peaceful Pain had heard about. His once red cheeks were pale, as pale as any of the pale skinned. He simply looked dead. Pain knew he was really gone, that she would never see him again, and never tell him that he was a good memory, something she could think back on and hold close with no fear or sorrow. She could never tell him when she thought of him it let some light in, even faint and distant, that the memory of Golden Smile made everything a little easier to bear.

As they stood there, all weeping and remembering, Pain looked about her and saw everyone holding onto someone, everyone embracing those they loved. In a roomful of her family, a roomful of people who were supposed to love her, she stood alone, untouched and unloved. Pain did not know how many kinds of loneliness there were, but she felt as if she had discovered them all. She held herself tight, and felt something in her pocket. It was the seal, the little carved seal Sunny had given her. She gripped it tight, looked around her, and walked out.

She was nearly at the canoe when her mother’s hand touched her shoulder. They looked at each other, and Grief for the Lost looked apologetic, ashamed even.

“I can’t go with you,” she said.

Pain could feel no anger. She knew all her mother had done, and she was grateful.

“I know,” said Pain. “Maybe you can find happiness here.”

Grief looked sadder than ever. Both of them knew that the longer Grief stayed, the more she would become the false Pretty Bird, and somehow even more Grief in reality. She did not know the way out.

Pain climbed into the canoe, wanting her mother to hold her, knowing she couldn’t. She waved goodbye, not knowing how long, if ever, it would be before she saw her again. Then Grief turned her back on Pain, and became Pretty Bird once more.

Pain paddled first in numbness, and then purpose came to mind. She had a goal, a place to go, and she was not even so afraid anymore. The island, she would go to the island. She did not know what it held, but she knew what the other villages held. The island, at least held mystery, and a hope for something better.

In a few days of hard paddling, the island came into view. There was the house, the big cedar one with her own crest on it, and there was the seal. There was the man. He looked as if he was expecting her, and she knew he was watching, but couldn’t meet his eyes. She pulled the canoe up onto the beach and stood before him.

“Hello Pain,” he said.

She nodded.

“Do you want to know my name?” he asked.

Pain wasn’t sure, but knew she must know.

“My name is Love,” he said.

Love. It sounded almost familiar to Pain, but she couldn’t place where.

“Look at me, Pain,” said Love.

She did not want to. She knew that if she looked at him, he would turn away. That if he saw her, really saw her, only two things could happen – he would either hurt her, or go away. She didn’t know why, as she did not know him, but she did not want him to leave. Pain certainly didn’t want him to hurt her. But she knew she must look.

As soon as she looked into his eyes, she knew she might die. Pain knew these eyes, she knew them well, but they never looked at her for long. She had seen only glimpses, when her mother stood up for her, when Sunny talked with her, but she always wanted more. She might die if she looked too long.

She was going to turn away when Love did the unthinkable. He threw his arms around her and held her tight. Pain was shocked, not knowing what to do, and then she could nothing but melt. His arms wrapped around her as strong as the cedars she used to play on, his skin like that of the smooth, carved seal. He whispered his care for her, and she heard it as clear as the lapping lullabies that filled her childhood. In his arms he held the girl it hurt to touch, and she never wanted to be free.

No one can know how long he held her, for such moments can never be measured. He held her long enough. He held her enough for a lifetime of hurt to be redeemed. He held her until she pulled away, almost frightened of such a new feeling.

Pain wept, and everything she had ever wanted to tell anyone come flooding out. She told him about the dream, about being so young and so lovely and free. She told him about the nights, every night, every night from her uncle until the last man in the pale skinned village. She told him about school and Sunny. She told him about her grandmother and uncle, and their guilt and shame. She told him about her father, about never wanting to look at her. She told him about her mother, about her sight, and her courage, and her betrayal. She told him everything, even though somehow she knew that he understood it all before she told him.

Pain stood, exhausted, and empty. She had just given him everything, everything she had. She had nothing left of her own, and she was suddenly afraid of what he was going to do. In all the years of being taken from, she had never so freely given all of this. She braced herself.

Love just looked at her.

“What would you like to do, Pain?” he asked.

Pain was struck. She had never been asked. Pain had been told what to do, forced to do things, but never asked what she wanted to do. She knew what she wanted.

“I want to stay here with you,” she said, and braced herself again for the turning away.

Love laughed, and held her close.

“That’s why,” he said, and she knew what he meant.

He held her longer, and even as he did she began thinking of all those people. There were so many people, wrapped up in hurt and anger and shame. They didn’t know this, she knew they didn’t know this. They wouldn’t understand, didn’t want to look at Love and Pain embracing on a beach. They should know this, they should know the joy of it, and the lasting life of it. She thought of her mother and father, her uncle even. They needed to know this.

Pain pulled away again, afraid to ask, but Love already knew.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked.

“May I go get them?” she asked. “May I go find them and tell them about this? May I help them get here?”

Love held her even tighter.

“Yes, this is why,” he said, and she knew he was only halfway talking to her. “You may do just that, and there is no better person for it. Go and tell them. Tell them your story. Go to both of these villages and tell them all. Then go out to more, to villages you didn’t know existed, because there are people hurting everywhere. Tell them all your story. But Pain?”

Pain looked at him to see the seriousness of his next statement.

“This island is yours and mine, alone. You can tell them how to look, but they have to find their own islands, their own Love. This is just for you and I.”

Pain knew that this was more than okay. Love had her step back.

“Your parents gave you the name Blessing,” he said, “and the world gave you the name Pain. But neither of these is your name. Your name was always meant to be Majesty, and that is what you are called by me.”

Love placed a crown of little red flowers on her head, and kissed her cheek. She could feel the heat coming from his eyes, and didn’t want to look away. She began to cry, but never looked away.

“They won’t understand my story,” she said. Love smiled.

“Probably not. But someone will. One will. And your name is Majesty. Is that enough?”

Majesty smiled back.

“More than enough.”

Love embraced her and kissed her forehead.

“Go do what you were created to do,” he said. “I’ll come get you when the time is right. You know what to look for.”

So Majesty climbed into the canoe and paddled off into the fog, knowing Love would be there always. As she disappeared further into the water, off to do what she had always thought impossible, she knew his eyes would always find her.

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