Miss Shepard — a Fable

What do age, vulnerability, and innocence have to do with this story?… not much…

But at any age, your curious imagination will and can get the best of you. However, without them, you might not get to smell what’s on the other side.

Somewhere in the middle, we lose this curiosity. We tittle alongside the borders of straying too far and coming back home. We learn to calm the seas of our desires and find peace within ourselves. We’ve seen a lot, experienced a lot and time slows down — until we meet our final destination.

Our expectations we’d relied on towers away and when imagination lets us down, we return home just to become strangers again. We leave our curiosity and imagination where it belongs. At the door, on an island, in Vegas, yesterday, a time before, and in the basement.

Somewhere in the middle, Cherry Shepard lost this too. At a young age, she found her life a cliche but not one of the good ones like, “This is a blessing in disguise”. No life seemed but a blessing. She hated the part of life where almost every day she had to find a way to make the day at least ok. She was fine and laughed a lot, despite having to do her part in society by sacrificing what needed to be repressed. For her, it was her best friends from childhood. Her parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and even some cousins all recommended it. Their reasoning always concludes with, “At the end of the day, family is all you got”. She had a good family. No different than the rest. They were nice and kind and their flaws weren’t disgraceful enough to make her want to run away. If she were to count her blessings, she need more than 10 fingers.

Through the clouds of time, Cherry found herself descending and waiting for the moments to pass. She knew she wasn’t quite there yet or even sure if she cared to know what ‘yet’ meant anymore. So she focused on the little things in life and learned internal gratitude for those little things. A little long bath here, a little cafe date there, a walk to the park here, but her favorite little thing was to sit by her window and look up at the full moon. Somedays, it seemed as if the moon itself was the only one who would extend a tender arm of support. A slice of the cliche pie she was happy to partake in.

There's a day Cherry never forgets, although she doesn’t remember it as clearly anymore. Cherry just remembers it being a Friday because her job, at that time, celebrated birthdays every 2nd Friday. “Everything tastes much better when it's free,” she liked to say with a smirk.

On this day, her patience was tested and Cherry was never meant to be patient. She hated lines, she hated theme parks, and she hated slow folks and she especially hated the old man at her bus stop. However, She loved his crackling wise jokes and he always had a tender thought to share. Once he even gave her his wife's old furs, although Cherry saw herself much more as a square.

The problem wasn’t him or his age; it’s just that the elderly man moved against their physical nature by walking like they have all the time in the world. She got that he was old but every second he seemed so far away from her.

Cherry suddenly had an itch that scratched her mind. An itch that she would do best by not scratching. It would only make her day worse but…

what if she just … tripped … the old man?

“Do it,” Curiosity called to her.

“Think of how good it would feel,” Imagination soothed her.

“What if it was an accident?”

“Oh! She could even make it look like an accident!”

“Yes, do it!” her old best friends shouted.

Cherry Shepard thought long and hard about this. She promised me it was the turning point in her life’s story.

I loved hearing this story from my great-aunt, maybe because I was secretly terrified of her and the other stories about her. I once overheard my parents say she had taken a liken to serial killers and at one point she could have possibly been on the run.

She eventually became a hermit.

My parents and I would visit my Aunt Cherry from time to time. She was my Dad’s aunt on his mother’s side and was all they had left of a family. He wanted to “keep something going,” he’d say with a shrug. “And don’t believe everything you hear,” my mother would remind me.

Eventually, I stopped going. Mainly, out of being a teen and that type of curiosity was something I didn’t have to imagine anymore. I thought I’d seen it all and no one cared about my serial killer great aunt after 5th grade.

I would ask her how she had all these stories to tell. She would say she was friends with ‘curiosity’ and “imagination’ and that they were friends with all the side characters in her other stories.

One summer I moved in with her. My parents had driven into a lake that spring after visiting her. She lived in the woods on the outskirts of a small town that felt like a storybook village. It's a very green place with a wind that serenades you.

Her cottage was old and sturdy, small on the outside and larger than your imagination could fathom on the inside. Aunt Cherry came to be this very same essence.

She still wore her old dresses from a time before. Only now a hand-knitted sweater overlays them. She had a small garden and little knick-knacks for the birdies and creatures to visit.

Aunt Cherry had settled down there after years of running away. She was the only family I had left.

I arrived early morning. One luggage, headphones, and a skateboard. She greeted me at the door and showed me to my new room. I sat on the bed, I cried myself into a panic attack, I breathed, I exhaled, I fell asleep, woke up, and found her sitting in her rocking chair.

The night instantly reminds me that it fills your soul; not just your eyes. Aunt Cherry looked to be the only light at the end of the tunnel for me.

I sat on her dusty green couch, directly in front of the fireplace and a tiny old TV with an antenna. I covered myself with the quilt for extra comfort. We sat there, in silence, as the TV played a romance movie from about 10 years before.

“How's Curiosity and Imagination?” I finally broke our silence.

“Well, they’re a lot older now,” she smiled and started to rock.

“Older and Wiser?” I chuckled back.

“Oh, noooo,” she groaned back.

“Miss Cherry!” a voice through the window yells out. “Yoohoo, Miss Cherry?”

“Honey, would you mind opening the door for Hell?” Cherry said, overlooking my instant confusion.

Cherry continued to knit as I hesitantly moved towards the door. I opened it and there stood a fresh-faced man in a long red slip, dainty kitten heels, and big hoops sticking out their bob-length red hair. Their bronzed skin was covered in shimmer.

Leaning in, they put their hands out for mine and blew a kiss on each side of my face.

“How do you do? I’m Hellen Back,” she mischievously smiled.

“I’m…I’m Tamaska,” I tried to answer back.

“Owww, Tamaska,” her hand on her face now. “I adore that!”

“Hell and Back?” I ask her.

“Yes. Hellen is my first name, and Backs are my specialty.”

I don’t laugh.

She laughs for me and knocks her head back as she moves over to Aunt Cherry to give her the same kiss and cheek welcome.

Hellen was dazzling as she glided across the old wooden floors. Suddenly everything seemed so magical. She made the room glow with her little glitter sparks taking over the night. It's as if she had her own spotlight. It's as if she was the spotlight.

“Aw, yes, I almost forgot. The furs! I believe they would look devilously marvelous on you, Hell,” Cherry revels with glee as she disappears into the hallway leading to the basement.

With her devious smile and hands on her hips that make her body contort into an S, Hellen answers Aunt Cherry but says to me, “A red slip goes with anything, especially dead animals. Don’t you think?”

“How do you know my aunt Cherry?”

“I don’t, but not everything in life is free, so I take what I can get.”

I start to worry and I can’t tell if Hellen knew it.

“She’s quite the quirky type of old lady but I wouldn’t mind being like her if I get a chance to grow up. You know Miss Cherry was a Titan back in her old days…You know Hellen Back isn’t my real name?”

I felt like a mute back then. I spoke but could never find a way to say what needed to be said.

We hear a thump coming from the basement. We could only assume the titan has fallen.

My head spins towards the sound. I see Hellen dash into the darkness that hijacked the hallway to the basement. All that was left of her was the tail of her red slip.

I run towards the darkness without thought. Which scared me so I hesitated. I stood there before the abyss with shame and guilt for my thoughts of hesitation and they stood there with my ego asking me to be careful. All three of them create all of me.

There’s a knock at the door.

Boom Boom

They push me into the darkness.

I’m running.

My hands grasp for the walls that may give me light.

They grasp for anything.

A picture falls.

Kssshhhhk

“Just go back!” Ego warns me.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

The knock gets louder.

I run faster.

Something shoves into my hip and I groan.

“She’s your only living relative and you’re groaning,” Shame hits me.

Suddenly there’s a pain in my stomach.

I hear the front door open.

“It’s because you hesitated. You always hesitate,” Guilt eyes me.

My knees begin to grow weak. It’s hard to stand. They circle me. They warn me. They hit me. They stare right into my eyes.

I hear footsteps.

“What's happening to me!” I yell in agony and they continue to remind me who I am.

“I’m just keeping you safe,” Ego worries.

“Me, me, me, me, me!” Shames screams.

“You’re going to turn back, aren’t you?” Guilt cries.

“I…I…” I look back.

There stood my parents.

The flickering light from the old romance movie shines light on them as they stand at the rectangle-shaped hallway entrance.

I reach out to them and they do the same. I finally inhale.

I can feel the air run through my nose and take over my body. My stomach rises. I close my eyes and count to seven. Then a picture book of memories forms in the silence of my pause.

I exhale…I release.

When I open my eyes, two crows fly at me with determination.

They rush at me and I stand my ground.

They are growing bigger and I stand my ground.

I can hear the sharp sounds of the wings.

Whoosh Whoosh

The air it creates stings my eyes. I can barely see so Ego covers my eyes.

I feel my parents right beside me. I can smell my mother’s lavender shampoo.

Their wings expand and lay bare one last time. The air my parents create is so strong that it turns me forward.

I see darkness. I hear nothing. I say nothing.

Then a light at the end of the hallway clicks on and Aunt Cherry walks to it.

We smile and the hallway doesn’t look so far away anymore.

With her hands behind her back, she walks towards me with a light hum. Her body wobbling side to side with every step. Her big round eyes take over the long life lines in her face. I swear I saw what she looked like as a child.

Passing by me, Aunt Cherry says, “I found the furs. I’m afraid I’m a bit too square for them.”

Standing in the middle, I feel these are neutral grounds. I feel a sense of balance.

I look back towards her. There’s a light and she’s in it.

I look forward again. There’s a light and Hellen’s in it.

Hellen’s red slip now peeks from a fur that creates an upside-down triangle leading from her shoulders to her kitten heels. Hellen shimmies and her devilous smile crosses her face.

“I grabbed one for you too,” she says.

“Thank you. I’ll try it on,” I say back to her with a hopeful smile.

Later that night, my aunt asked me why the door was open. I told her it was the wind. She said I let my curious imagination get the best of me.

I lived a quiet life with my Aunt Cherry before I set off for an adventure of a lifetime. Hellen Back would visit us, sporting a new fur, lover, hobby, or story. One time, she brought a family with her.

Aunt Cherry would tell me new stories. Not the old mythical Titan ones. Ones of regret, love, abortion, rape, cliches, fear, hope, death, and taxes.

My favorite is still the same. Because not only did Cherry trip the old man that day but she went all the way. She tripped the old person again as she was helping them up. One might see this was lunacy but after that day, Cherry felt power in the words “What if?”

A powerful lunatic she was.

I like to tell the mythical stories about the Great Titan Woman my great aunt was known for. Our town didn’t feel the same way. Some say Cherry antagonized the wrong person and at one full moon, Cherry was seen howling at it.

“You’ll never know how someone might seek their revenge,” the town would say. “Something flipped and it wasn’t the lights!” one would say. “I feel terrible for her. She’s all alone now,” another shook their head.

But I’m sure Aunt Cherry would call this — a blessing in disguise.

I still visit my Aunt Cherry and she still enjoys her hemit nights. Each visit she always reminds me that this is experiencing life too.

She’ll take her handy needle and thread and sit outside to feel the cool brisk. A brisk that’s accompanied by her best friends, Curiosity and Imagination. Now and then, they’ll look up at the moon…They’ll talk to it and you can hear Cherry Shepard say,

“I agree, Luna, they really oughta do something about that serial killer.”

The end.

If you enjoyed this story…you might enjoy a Sims 4 animation I did on it…It was the first one I did and it's just silly but fun. Actually, it's quite freaking awful.