Young Writers Society

Chessie watched as her sister gingerly wrapped the cat’s wound. The cat kept turning around, bumping her body against Eila’s arms and legs, meowing pitifully.

“Why do you care about this vermin?” Chessie asked gruffly.

“Everything in this world deserves to know what love feels like,” was Eila’s response.

It didn’t matter who or what you are, if you were in danger or needed help, Eila would drop everything in a heartbeat to help. She’d once tried to save a mouse that had been caught in a trap, but it died a few hours later and Eila was in tears at the life she couldn’t save.

That’s just who Eila was.

Now, Eila was bed ridden and had to be hand fed. The doctors didn’t know what was wrong, and so all she could do was watch.

And so she watched. Day after day, she watched as Eila faded away.

…

Chessie knocked on the door of an old cottage that had beaten by the elements. Despite some missing shingles and the siding peeling off, it looked sound and sturdy.

She stood straighter and lifted her chin, prepared to fight for what she came for.

The woman who answered the door was young and beautiful, with honey-colored hair that touched her waist. Chessie was taken by surprise. She had heard stories about the woman, and expected her to look much older, like a witch.

“Hello, Mabel,” Chessie said, not waiting for Mabel to respond. “I’ve heard of your gardens and of what the fruits and vegetables can do. I request an audience with you.”

Mabel stared at Chessie, running her eyes along her body. Chessie tensed, prepared for the worst.

“Of course,” Mabel said, moving to usher Chessie inside her cottage.

The cottage smelled clean, like soap and linens. Chessie noted the simplicity of the cottage and the lack of decoration.

“What brings you here, dear? Have some tea and relax. You make me nervous looking so tense.”

Chessie accepted the tea and launched into her speech. She told Mabel about her sister’s illness and how she’s seen more than a dozen doctors, of which none can diagnose what’s wrong with her.

When she heard of Mabel’s gardens, she was in disbelief. How could something like a cucumber or tomato heal illnesses within days? But Eila got worse every day, and so Chessie set out to find this woman and her mysterious gardens.

“I’ll pay whatever you ask,” Chessie said. She tossed a sack of coins on the table.

Mabel eyed the sack distastefully. “I don’t accept money, girl. I can give you something that will heal your sister. Make her healthy, like before. But it comes a very steep price.”

Chessie waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, she reluctantly asked, “What?”

Mabel smiled. “From you, a memory would be fine. It’s a rather fair trade. Your sister’s life for one memory.”

Chessie reeled back in her chair. Was this woman serious?

Mabel noticed the look on Chessie’s face and stood. “I can see you’re about to say no. If that’s the case, please leave so I can continue on my day.”

Panic gripped her chest and she jumped to her feet. “No! I’ll do it. Whatever memory you want. My sister’s life is worth it.”

“Great!” Mabel chirped. “I think my tomatoes should do the trick.”

Chessie’s heart sunk as she drowned out the woman’s chatter. A memory? What could that mean? Chessie could never be like Eila – so caring and tender. What would the world be without a girl like Eila?

She couldn’t fathom the thought. Before she could rethink, she followed the woman to a small, dark room.

…

The market was uncomfortably warm, and despite being surrounded by people, Chessie felt utterly alone. She bit her tongue to keep the tears back. It didn’t bother her that she was going to cry.

What drove her crazy was the fact that her heart felt as if it had been shattered and a feeling of deep sorrow overwhelmed her and she didn’t know why. Nobody had died and nothing terrible had happened. But still, something cold and unwavering clung to her chest and refused to let go.

“Chessie!”

She turned towards the voice. It was a girl, only a few years younger than her. Her eyes were a stunning shade of blue. The stranger ran straight forward, wrapping in her in a hug. Just as quickly as she came, she retreated, taking a step away and observing Chessie.

Chessie didn’t move, shocked that a stranger had hugged her. And how did this girl know her name?

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for weeks! I’ve been worried sick…” the girl trailed off.

“I’m – I’m sorry, you must have mistaken me for somebody else,” Chessie stuttered. Something about the girl looked so familiar, but she couldn’t remember how she knew the girl.

Concern clouded the girl’s face. “What are you talking about!? I’m your sister, Eila, remember?”

Her heart clenched. She was blinking back tears. She was going to lose it here, right in front of this stranger.

Chessie shook her head and backed away. Something flashed in Eila’s eyes. Did she feel the same heartbreak?

“I don’t have a sister,” she choked out.

Then she ran, before Eila had a chance to respond. Something about the girl made Chessie’s heartache deepen. She pumped her legs as fast as they could go, letting them carry her past the vendors selling their trinkets and down the cobblestone road that would lead her far, far away.

She didn’t stop until she was far into the forest, where she could only hear the rustling of the leaves and her own sobs.

She collapsed, sobbing so hard her body shook.

When the sobs finally stopped and her tears had run out, she stood up and dusted the dirt off her clothes.

This deep sadness had taken over her life and she didn’t know why or how. She decided with grim determination that she wanted answers and she was going to get them.

So she set off back towards town to find the Eila, the girl who called herself Chessie’s sister.