A story inspired by Ella Enchanted. Please read, review, and tell me what you think!
Chapter 1.
Seeking Solace
Never before had I felt so much pain.
The sadness I felt, along with the sadness of every single person around me, had built up into one heartrending spear of emotion that pierced my heart and struck my soul. The surrounding sobs echoed in my ears like the bells of the town cathedral. I stood still in the line of mourners, gasping for breath, but there was no relief. I couldn't take it much longer. I had to get away from all this misery, but it drilled me into the ground until I felt numb with it.
I looked around at the surrounding faces, already knowing what I would see. The king bowed his head solemnly as the aging priest recited a prayer. The Queen stood beside him, frowning, eyes closed. David, the young prince I had once played with and laughed with, stood staring at his shoes, his tidy blonde curls obstructing my view of his face. Then his gaze lifted and met mine, and he smiled sadly at me, all the laughter drained from his face. I looked away, feeling the pity aimed at me, adding to the sharp blade in my chest. Every face was frozen in some other grief-stricken emotion. Lastly, I looked up at my aunt standing beside me. Her eyes were closed, and a single tear slid down her pale cheek. Her pain overwhelmed me like none else had.
I closed my eyes, trying to shut it out, but it only made the feeling worse. The devastating sadness consumed me wholly. There was no way out. My eyes flew open and I stared ahead, eyes landing on the casket that contained my beloved father. I watched as it was lowered down into the dark hole in the ground. Then fresh earth was piled on top of it, and the somber flutist stopped playing. As my heart broke, I felt the hearts of others break around me. People turned to leave. I turned and ran.
Never before had the feelings overtaken me so. I had to get away, a good distance apart from the world so I could breathe. I ran down the grassy hill as fast as my legs could carry me, ignoring the concerned faces that stared at me as I rushed past. The alarm and the worry that swept through the crowd at my sudden retreat screamed in my head like a child's cry. I ran as if a pack of wolves was chasing me, and it might as well have been, for what I was feeling threatened to consume me, to rip me to shreds. I ran for my life.
Launching myself headlong into the woods, I paid no mind to the tree branches that scraped my arms and face. I sprinted toward the river, desperate for the soothing calm it promised. I attempted a steady breathing as I ran, sucking in the cool air and willing it to cleanse me from within. But the pain persisted.
Something wet touched my lips, and I realized I was crying. I had thought my body was out of tears—I'd spent the last three days crying—but the tears were back in an unrelenting stream down my face. I couldn't tell if they were mine, or theirs.
As each tear fell, I felt the drowning sadness slowly lessen. It grew dimmer until finally I felt the weight of normal human pain within me. Now I knew I was alone. I made it to the riverbank and ran straight to the edge before I stopped and fell on my knees in the sand. I longed to run into my father's arms, to feel his compassion for me and to hear his voice.
But I could never do that again.
I panted deeply as I listened to the river, letting the calm current quietly consume me.
I hadn't realized how many people would be at the funeral. I guessed I should have known—my father was one of the most respected commanders in the king's army, fatally attacked while defending the borders of Fenton. I had never been to a funeral before. Now I knew better.
Ever since I was a young child, I knew I was different, but I was ten before I finally decided something was seriously wrong with me. I would get happy or sad for seemingly no reason. If I passed someone who was crying, I would suddenly burst into tears. If someone was angry with me, I'd get just as angry. My sudden mood swings worried my teachers, and I was soon without friends. It wasn't until a year later when my cousin Owen got into a fight with one of his friends and I got so angry I punched both of them in the face, that I began searching for an answer. After serving my punishment, I told my father everything I knew. We finally resolved that, for some unknown reason, I felt the feelings of others around me as if they were my own.
Once I understood this, and to my great relief, things became significantly better. I learned how to discern other people's emotions from my own quite easily. Outside emotions seemed to sweep through me like a shiver, when my own rang deep within me. With minimal effort I was able to ignore the former and focus on my genuine feelings. It was harder in a large crowd, but I managed. That's why I loved being around my father. He was always happy when we were together. He saved his stern voice for battle.
I don't know why this happened to me. Father had told me that I had a gift. He didn't know where it came from, and my mother had been long gone by then. She'd died from an illness when I was a baby, a fact I had long grown to accept.
Today was especially hard, though.
My father was gone. I didn't know what I would do without him. He was my best friend, other than Prince David. The only family I had left was my Aunt Claire and her son Owen, who was like a little brother to me. They both meant well, but how could I just accept the fact that my father, the strongest person I knew, couldn't stay alive for as long as I needed him? It was only with him that I felt I was worth something. But now he was gone, and without him what was the point of living? I remembered the last words he said to me as he was lying in the infirmary...
"Kendra, I love you. Please, promise me...promise me you'll find something worth fighting for."
I'd promised, though I had no idea how to find something like that. His whole life was about fighting for our kingdom. I couldn't be a soldier. What would I fight for?
I felt utterly alone. Now I was the only one who knew of my gift. My father had told me to keep it a secret, but the task was becoming harder, especially in these tough times. I desperately needed to talk to someone, but I couldn't go back and see the pain in my aunt's eyes over the loss of her elder brother, not yet. I sat down on the riverbank and wrapped my arms around my knees, staring out at the rippling water.
The breeze picked up and blew my short hair around my face. I tucked it behind my ears and sighed. I longed to be like the wind, going wherever it pleased, strong and free. My father was like that—a trait of his I hadn't acquired. I had my mom's brown hair and her blue eyes, and I sometimes wondered if I had inherited anything from my father. People told me I had his spirit, though I didn't think I would ever be as courageous as him.
I spotted a fallen tree that jutted out over the water and lay resting on the opposite bank like a bridge. The river rushed past it only four feet below. I stood and made my way over to it. I carefully stepped around the twisting roots and onto the trunk. Putting one foot in front of the other, I made it to the middle of the river. I looked down at the water below me, and then up at the sky above. I raised my arms and closed my eyes, feeling the wind whip around me.
Then, without thinking, I leaned back, feeling the wind give way to my body. I fell into the air and let the water envelop me moments later. I didn't think about the cold. I didn't care that my black velvet dress was swirling heavily around me. I rose to the surface and floated on my back, staring up at the sky as the sun poked through. I welcomed it on my face.
Slowly moving my arms up and down, I gradually made it to the shore. I crawled out of the river and onto the sand, shrugging off my heavy dress and wringing the water out of it. Then I collapsed on the ground, all my energy depleted. I rolled over and lay there on my back, letting the sunshine warm me through my underclothes. I fell asleep instantly.
And woke to the sound of voices.