Joanne's Cabin - Part 17

Liz cries mournfully, swaying with the other trapped souls in the weeds. Her long curly hair and fingertips have feathered and drifted around her, slipping against her fellow weeds and entwining with their soft appendages. She’ll become like them soon. She can feel her body changing. Her eyes are closed because there’s nothing worth seeing. Her life is complete misery. She’s always been alone and now she’s with others like her. She’s exactly where she should be. She’ll soon join their beautiful melancholic melody permanently.

Pain clips her ear.

She stumbles over her tongue but finds it again and rejoins the chorus of singers.

Again, pain rips her from her song.

What is that?

Her mind stirs with the interruption. Who is she? She’s a weed. Weeds don’t feel pain.

Her brain fogs over and she returns to swaying. She opens her mouth to sing again but before one note is released she is jolted by a loud chirp. She shakes her head.

She has a head. Weeds don’t have heads.

Her eyes bat open and one miserably unhappy blue bird shoves its little sharp beak into her cheek.

“Ouch! Stop that!”

The weeds moan louder and their feathered appendages wrap around Liz. Her new family needs her like no one has needed her before.

Her eyes become heavy as she drifts back into the song.

Another sharp pinch yanks her from her dark slumber. She swivels around and the tiny yellow bird sits on her shoulder shaking its head.

She has a shoulder. Weeds don’t have shoulders.

“Ow!” Liz cries as the blue bird yanks on one tight curl and the tiny one chirps angrily. Why is the bird so mad? She shakes free of the birds like a wet dog and her sunken feet rise out of the sand, freed from the roots that bound them.

The yellow bird swoops in and out of her face, chirping loudly. She bats it away with her hand that’s no longer the feathered weeds. The blue bird hits her from behind and her hand repels up to the spot and she feels blood.

“Oh, you miserable bird,” Liz cries, chasing it to the shore.

She stumbles as her feet hit the dry sand and all her sadness melts into the water. She’s free from the spell of the weeds. She isn’t useless and alone. She has a family who loves her and two nasty birds caring for her. She rises from the sand and brushes her hands clean on her wet shorts. Her fingers and toes still look a little green. She twirls one long curl and the texture is different, lighter, and softer.

The birds chirp sharply from a thin white pine branch with orange needles stretching to her. On tippy-toes, she reaches up to look them square in the eye.

“Thank you for saving me from those evil sirens.”

They chirp joyfully. The yellow one begins to clean the other.

Liz looks over the water and from the shore, the weeds don’t look menacing. They are only weeds, bending and bobbing with the small waves. Would she have been there forever if the birds hadn’t saved her? She’d felt such bitter sadness but also importance because she was part of a community. She’s never fit into any community before. It’s always just been her with her mom and Nona.

She looks back to the birds, cuddled up on the branch. Perhaps one day her community will come. She would never want to be a part of a sad community like the family of weeds. She looks up into the woods that tower above the beach. Her heart is heavy but a new purpose has risen. Her mom thought Joanne was evil but maybe she has always needed a community. How was she supposed to learn to be kind and loving while living alone for eons? She has no mother or family. She has no friends. Liz's family taught her these things. Joanne needs a family too and if hers is not good for her, Liz will become her family. The birds must be able to help her find Joanne and when she does, Liz will tell her that she is not alone. She will always be a part of her community.

“Birds, please take me far away from this sad lake,” Liz begs. “Do you know where Joanne is? I must find her.”

The birds lift off, swirling and diving in the gentle wind, guiding Liz up a small rocky trail along the side of the cliff.