Dearest Clementine,
Remember when we first met? You told me you wished I were dead. You thought I had done something I shouldn’t have. It was Bogdi, that demon, who harmed your family, not me. I promised myself that he would never bring harm to you again, but somehow it has happened, and he’s stolen you away. I want you to know more than anything that you had my heart from the start. Did you see that? I made that rhyme, just for you. If you were here now, you would tell me what a fool I am. I miss that smile, one I haven’t seen in weeks. But I’ll find you. With everything in me, I’ll put an end to Bogdi and help bring you home. Do you want to know a secret? I was going to ask you to marry me, and I’d already written you a collection of stories. You said you did always like my stories, as unconventional as they may be. While we wait, here is the first one, my dearest.
Always Yours,
Dorin
Sail into the Unknown
1872
Keo hadn’t known if he was really a boy or a girl when he’d awoken in a small cottage along the side of a dirt road. A woman named Gwendolyn, his mother, had asked him which he preferred to be. When he thought about her question, Keo felt that he was a boy, but he wasn’t alive like one. Actually, he was very much alive, only not a human like Gwendolyn.
That day he remembered oh so clearly. The fat moon hung high in the sky, centered between clusters of shining stars. Even a meteor shower flickered in the distance. It was the day Gwendolyn brought him to life. The day she became his mother. Kind and smiling, no sign of her vengeful temper. Before the control she had on him. Before the ax.
Gwendolyn had made Keo from an old wooden supper table nineteen years ago, but he never once had come to life. Not until that night. A dark fairy covered in flecks of sparkles that seemed to dance across her skin had entered Gwendolyn’s home. Gwendolyn had yearned for a child of her own so badly, and for someone who would help her in her dark tasks. The fairy chose to awaken him.
Now, Keo sat propped against the wall, his long gangly arms resting lopsided. Peony, his mother’s helper, tapped her foot repeatedly against the spinning wheel as she worked.
His head stayed cocked to the side as he observed her intricate hand movements, his lips aching to move and speak to her. Peony had been working for his mother for the past three months. She was a year younger than him with short, bright-red hair that curled in too many directions, skin dusted with freckles, overly large green eyes, a pointy nose, and plump lips. She was ugly, she was beautiful—Keo couldn’t decide—but whatever she was, he felt drawn to her. The wooden heart that beat softly in his chest wanted to call it love, but how could it be so if he’d never truly spoken to her? Yet, he knew that’s what it was.
Every other day before she came, he perched himself against the wall to watch her work. Keo could have gone anywhere else—as long as he remained immobile and silent—but he chose to linger in the front room, despite his mother’s protests.
The tsking sound continued to echo throughout the cottage as Peony fed the natural fibers into the spinning wheel. Keo’s left leg began to cramp until it hurt so much, he shifted to the side to adjust himself. His boot squeaked softly as it rubbed against the wooden floor, but Keo kept his face expressionless.
Peony glanced up from the spinning wheel, her green eyes connecting with his. She gave him a side smile and then continued with her task. Keo didn’t know what to think about that strange smile, but he stayed quiet. He could’ve sworn he heard the ticking of his hard heart clicking against the wood of his chest, but he was only imagining that.
Without peering up again, Peony spoke, “You know, you can just say something if you want to.”
Keo’s insides startled, but he remained perfectly still. Was she talking to him? He wanted to look around the room to verify that he was the one she’d spoken to, but he already knew they were the only two inside the cottage. Gwendolyn had gone out to gather fruits and vegetables.
After Peony finished creating the yarn, she stood and brushed the dust from her dark slacks and the edge of her tan tunic. She shuffled toward Keo and knelt directly in front of him, her face only a few inches away. He could hardly breathe.
“I know more than you think I do,” she started with that strange smile again, “so you might as well let me see if your tongue is as wooden as your skin.”
Keo couldn’t contain himself any longer. “You—”
“I knew that would do the trick!” Peony laughed and scooted back.
“How did you—”
“How did I know?” she interrupted again. “A possible secret that I’ll save to reveal for another day. All the months I’ve been here, I’ve been waiting for you to say something.”
“You have? But—”
The front door swung open and Peony didn’t even flinch. However, Keo did and his mother caught the movement.
Peony gently stood after Gwendolyn walked in. “You’re back.”
“What are you doing, Peony?” Gwendolyn clenched her jaw, but the words came out sweet. So sweet that Keo could almost taste the sugar cubes soaking in sour milk.
“Oh”—Peony moved toward the spinning wheel, pointing at the fibers—“I just finished up the spool of yarn and was about to head home after I do the last one.”
“Haven’t I told you not to go near my things?” Gwendolyn’s gaze focused on Keo’s, as if he was the root cause of all this. Which, he had been.
“He fell and all I did was tilt him back up,” Peony explained, crossing her arms. The lie had Keo impressed with the ease of it, the way the words fell from her tongue. He even believed it.
Gwendolyn narrowed her dark eyes, moving a strand of gray hair away from her face, and biting her tongue. “I’ll see you Friday, Peony.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Peony didn’t even look back once at Keo before she left. He tried not to look at her either, but he failed.
Gwendolyn tap, tap, tapped her heeled boot against the hard floor for several quick beats before speaking. “Well?”
“Nothing happened,” Keo whispered, trying to make himself believe the words. “I had a cramp and fell to the side, then Peony rushed over and put me back in place. She was probably frightened that if she left me there, you would think she touched your things.” Because of the lie, a small fissure cracked on his arm. He wanted to cry, but he held it back.
“She did touch my things!” Gwendolyn barked, fists clenched at her sides.
“I suppose you could consider it that way, but nothing happened. She still thinks I’m only a marionette.”
Another crack echoed through the house, only this time it was loud enough for Gwendolyn to hear it. Keo wanted to wrap his hand around his thigh, where the wound beat in pain.
“You”—she clicked her tongue and inched toward him—“are a big liar.”
Keo kept his mouth shut because if he lied anymore, more cracks would come. It would only make matters worse.
“She dies tonight,” Gwendolyn said, her voice tinged with finality.
“But—”
“I was going to have you get rid of Mrs. Krause this evening, but instead, this has to be done. All because you couldn’t keep yourself hidden.”