Chapter 5: A Letter Book

FRANCESCA

I was out of breath when I finally finished speaking and the old woman was staring at me blankly, like I was a radio she was listening to. I stared back at her.

Then she smiled and stood to her feet. I watched her walk to the end of the room and go to a wardrobe where she pulled out a drawer. She picked something from it, closed the drawer, and walked back to me, slowly, her smile still on her face.

Her skin was paler than in my dream and her hair was more grey than I had thought it was. I was getting to see her features much better now that she was standing right before me in reality.

She sat back on her chair and handed me a necklace with a pearl locket.

"Do you remember this?" She asked me and I stared at it intently with my eyes narrowed.

"Am I supposed to?"

The necklace did look familiar but I could not tell where I had seen it or who it belonged to.

"Yes," she looked hurt but she smiled again, and the hurt vanished from her eyes, "Well, I do not expect you to remember. You were only a little girl when you had it."

"I think you are mistaken, ma. I'm not the girl you are thinking I am. My name is Francesca."

"Enough!" The old woman shouted to my greatest surprise. Her voice had always been so velvety soft but now, it sounded like the roar of thunder. At that moment, she looked like a completely different person.

If I thought she was only a weak old lady, I was wrong. This woman was scary and my observation sent fear down my spine.

She must have noticed this because she sighed heavily and dropped her head.

"I'm sorry for shouting." Her voice was back to being soft.

"But I need you to listen to me. When I say I know you, I am not mistaken. I do know you and this is why I appeared in your dream to let you know who you truly are. I have waited so long, child. I had to wait till you were old enough before I appeared to you. It's time to know your identity. It's time to take back what is yours. Welcome home, child." She smiled brightly, revealing her diastema.

I stared blankly at her,

"I do not understand," I told her and she sighed.

"The woman who died a year ago as you said is not your mother. Though I must commend her for doing a good job in raising you, she is not your mother and that is not your world. Here is."

I stared at her, unable to speak because none of what she had just said made sense to me.

Still smiling, the old woman stood up again, this time returning with a mirror which she handed over to me. I looked at her and she urged me to look into the mirror.

When I finally did, I screamed in horror.

The first thing I noticed was the white hair on my head and my long pointy ears. Shocked, the mirror dropped from my hand but the old woman was quick to catch it before it fell to the hard floor.

"Careful," she said to me but I grabbed the mirror from her hand and stared right back.

"Who is this woman in the mirror?" I asked, terrified.

The image staring back at me looked quite different from me. Though it was my face, I could not understand where the long ears and beautiful white hair that fell at my back in unruly curls came from. My dull hazel eyes were now a more beautiful shade and my lips looked fuller than usual.

I looked prettier than usual. It was as though my look had been enhanced and I wondered how that was possible.

"The woman in the mirror is you."

"It's not true." I shook my head, holding the mirror to my face and placing my hand on my ear as if seeing it was not enough. How could my ear grow this long? What was going on?

I held a lock of my hair and brought it to my eyes but I gasped when I realised that it was white, just like the reflection on the mirror. How could this be?

"This is you, Mila. This is the real you. I have a lot to tell you, Mila, but you need to rest. I will tell you all about it later. You have a whole world ahead of you and in this world, there are quite some enemies. But the good thing is that you're back. Your father will be glad to see you." She smiled, reaching out to touch my face but I backed away.

None of this made sense to me. It didn't feel like reality.

Perhaps, I was beginning to make up a new world just as I had made up a relationship where there was none. Perhaps, I had read too much fantasy and the knowledge was starting to haunt me.

Without a word to the old woman, I pushed myself out of the wooden bed. It was annoying how everything seemed to be made out of wood in this damn place. It looked like an old crappy building and it stank of the muskiness of old books; I could not wait to get out of there.

So I did just that, walking slowly to the door which was ahead of me. My head was aching badly and my body was trembling in pain but I ignored all this, walking slowly to the door.

There was no way I was gonna remain in this house, listening to this old lady tell me lies. My mother was not my mother? Bullshit!

"What are you doing?" The old woman asked, her voice laced with amusement.

I could not believe she found this to be funny.

I ignored her, my eyes fixated on the door. My legs were shaky but I kept walking.

The door seemed to get farther and farther away as I walked but I kept walking. I was determined to keep walking until I got out. I would surely do that even if I had to crawl.

"Where are you going?" The old woman was up on her feet.

"I'm going home," I shouted, quickening my pace. "I don't care about you or your so-called world. I'm going home!"

"And where is home?" The old woman's voice was filled with mockery. She did not look like the sweet old woman she had been a moment ago. "If what you call home is your life before now, do you think you'll find your way back?"

"I don't care! As long as I am away from you and your world." My voice broke.

"Mila," she dragged the name, walking right behind me. "You are more than five hundred years away from your world. You can't go back to the future, my dear. Your time in that world is over."

"What?" I turned sharply to look at her. "What do you mean the future? I'm only twenty-five!"

"Mila — "

"Stop calling me that! Goddamnit!" I cursed at her, a tear slipping from my eyes.

She stared right back at me before sighing heavily, "I thought it would be best for you to rest properly before I explain things to you but since you're that eager, I'll tell you. But come sit down first."

I looked at her, pondering on what to do. Should I remain here, listening to her fish story or should I leave?

Feeling too exhausted, I allowed myself to be led back to the bed and I sat down, waiting for the woman to begin her tale.

She cleared her throat, still holding my hand in hers. I wanted to pull my hand from her grip but I decided to endure.

Then she began to tell me about the elf King, King Dale who according to her was my father.