Jayashree Story, Part 1

Hello everyone!! I'm finally posting something! (Sorry that hasn't happened for a while.)

This is the beginning of a story I began a while ago, as the backstory to a poem I wrote first. I have made it my goal to finish this story*, and then I can share the poem with you all as the ending. Enjoy.

*Even though I love writing--sososo much--I have some serious problems actually finishing what I start and not just moving on to the next story beginning.

~CHAPTER ONE~

She came in the middle of the night. It was 1:33 in the morning, to be exact, and in the middle of a wild rainstorm that pounded the windows and drenched the world. There she was, on the doorstep. Surrounded by red roses that were the same color as her long tiered skirt. She wore a black jacket that was made for someone twice her size. Her eyes were wild. Like a scared animal’s. A dirty piece of paper was crumpled in her hand.

That was three weeks ago, when Jaya first came to me. And she is still as much of a mystery as she was then.

Her full name is Jayashree Hitendra. She came from a long way away. And all other details are shrouded in immense secrecy.

I believe she’s mute. Or, she just refuses to talk. Either way, she has never uttered a single word in my presence. The few things I know are from notes left for me around the house.

The first: I am Jayashree Hitendra.

The second: I have come far.

And, the last: I’m sorry I can’t tell you any more than that.

But there are things I know, even though that’s all she’s told me. Most of all, I can tell she has suffered. Maybe been abused, I don’t know. Her eyes look scared. Darting. I can tell the red mark above her eyebrow is a birthmark, and the one that spreads from the side of her neck to her cheek. But there are scars there too. Small, but noticeable—once by her nose, one under her ear.

I don’t know why or how Jayashree is here, but here she is, and she needs protection.

*      *     *     *     *

I wake up early, much earlier than usual. The sun is rising, pale in the sky. I can smell the damp soil outside, cold breeze rushing in through the open window. I stand up and stick my head outside. Wolf tracks are imprinted in the mud—it looks as though they’ve been circling the house. About four sets of paw prints. It doesn’t bother me if they feel like walking around here in the night. The forest is their property and they’ve been kind enough to let me share it with them.

I stand there for a while, taking in the rushing wind and the yellow leaves and the trees against the sky. It’s later now. I might as well get up, open all the windows and air everything out. And say good morning to Jayashree. I dress and walk into the kitchen—there she is, sitting at the small table, just staring off into space.

“Good morning, Jaya.”

She turns her head and stares at me quietly, then looks down at the table. There is a small bowl of blackberries there, still with droplets of dew. I pop one into my mouth—perfectly ripe and warmed slightly by the sun. “Did you pick these?”

Quiet nod.

“Thank you.” I pull up a stool and together we finish the bowl.