1001 Cranes | ✔

Step Two

Lavender-scented candles host dim lighting in the bedroom they share. Baby flames consume darkened wicks. Curtains of hair drape over Alice's shoulders, like a waterfall of black silk. Shadows dance across her face. "I have a story to tell."

     By now, Stephen has known Alice long enough to know how great of a storyteller she is. She adores weaving words together to create fresh tales. It wouldn't be much of a problem if she narrated her stories during the daytime, not when Stephen is about to sleep. 

     A snarl is caught in his throat. "I don't wanna hear it."

     Alice folds her legs together, like she's prepared to meditate. She occupies the foot of his sleeping bag. "There was once a little monster named Maya who could play the trumpet."

     Despite 'not wanting to hear the story,' Stephen narrows his eyes and asks, "A monster?"

     She nods. "Maya was a little monster who could play the trumpet. She lived underneath a bridge near a village and she would play her instrument often. One day, while she was practicing like usual, a human girl by the name of Tami overheard her lovely music. Tami was new in the village and she wanted to befriend Maya. After talking to Maya for a while, they became friends."

     "Wow," Stephen says, in the flattest monotone ever. "How amazing."

     Alice neglects his sarcastic commentary. "Maya taught Tami how to play some songs with the trumpet. They were able to share many conversations and have lots of fun. Together, they were the best of friends. One day, most of the livestock turned up deceased in the village Tami lived in. No one knew who the culprit was.

     "Fear put many on edge and accusations were thrown about everywhere. Madness descended. After a village gathering, the village folks began to suspect Maya as the culprit because she was a monster, and monsters were known for infamous felonies. As her best friend, Tami was certain that Maya wouldn't commit such a crime. Maya was better than that—"

     "They lynched Maya, didn't they?" Stephen cuts off, curtly, before Alice could continue her narration. "The village lynched her, didn't they?" When she doesn't answer, he prods her. "Didn't they?"

     "You're right. They did." She stares at him, her gaze hardening. "How come you're so certain about that?"

     A long pause ensues. Then, Stephen shrugs. He fails at feigning casualty, casualty doesn't suit a serious person like him, but Alice doesn't comment on that. Now is not the right time to be commenting on that. "It's just something that's happened before. Humans will annihilate anything they can't understand. That's how it is."

     "Is that what you think?" Her question is conveyed through a fragile whisper.

     "It's not what I think," Stephen growls, his eyes sharpening with a spark. "It's what I know."

     "Maya wasn't the culprit," Alice says, in a soft-spoken tone. "The village never found out who the real culprit was because there was no culprit. The livestock actually died of disease. After Maya was lynched for false charges, Tami mourned the end of her best friend. She wept for weeks. And every year, on her death anniversary, Tami would play the songs that Maya had taught her all day. She would play in honor of the little monster who could play the trumpet. The end." She brings her hands together in a clap. "What do you think?"

     "That was fucking tragic."

     "Aren't all good stories? Name one story that doesn't have someone dying in it."

     "Whatever," Stephen grunts, tugging on his sleeping bag. "You told your sad story, now it's time to get off my bed."

     "Good night, Stephen." With that, Alice kills the lights with her breath. The smoky scent of lavender still lingers in their room when they drift to sleep.

     The next morning, a paper airplane stabs Stephen in the nose.

     "Rise from the dead." Alice, who's already dressed for the day, crouches down to his level. She slaps his cheek, lightly enough for him to stir. "I need to meet with my tailor about the clothes I ordered. I'll see you in a bit. Make sure to wear your cloak before going out."

     After Alice leaves, Stephen swipes the paper airplane she had thrown at him. He's about to chuck it in the trash when something peculiar snags his attention. He pauses before undoing the paper airplane.

     There's a sentence written for him. It reads:

     You are different from Maya.