Upon the Wings of a Phoenix

The Phoenix

        "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," I said aloud, as I looked about my surroundings.  

        After the fight with my mom, I  stormed off into the tree line with the intent to walk the anger off. I had done this many times before, but never this far in. I was so engrossed in my own thoughts I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, now I wasn't entirely sure where I was. I glanced back behind me, wondering if I just headed in that direction, could I make it back with ease? The real question was, did I want to go back? No, not even close. Going back to camp meant a hostile confrontation; and I would be doing everything I could to avoid seeing my mother for the rest of the weekend. Though, staying in the woods until Monday morning was an implausible solution. If I had a car of my own I would just leave.  

        "Damn it! Why can't I ever get a break!" I kicked at the ground in frustration.  

        Why was she always like this? She's never trusted me with anything. There was no way I could get something drivable on my own, not with how things have been going for me. He didn't even want that stupid truck. So, instead of letting me have transportation to achieve a good paying job, she's going to let it sit in a garage just to keep it away from me.  

        The sound of rustling drew my attention. It sounded like it came from behind me. Spooked, I slowly moved so I could look over my shoulder. There was nothing there. I pushed it out of my mind, convincing myself it was more than likely just a rabbit or a squirrel. I had no reason to worry, but then I heard it again, louder, followed by the sound of branches snapping. Whatever it was, shot upward through the trees, as twigs rained down upon me. I frantically searched for the cause of the sound, expecting to see a bird, but what I heard did not sound like any bird I had heard before. It was a throaty high-pitched shrill that echoed in the sky.  Across the trees beside me, I saw a shadow of whatever was flying above me now. It was large in size, with wings spread out wide, as it flew past. My first thought was that maybe it was a vulture but I knew that vultures weren't even that big.   

        Curiosity got the best of me, I had to know what this animal was. I was in pursuit, using the glimpses of the shadow that flittered across the ground and trees. Then I was forced to stop, unsure of where it had gone. I stared up at the now-open view of the sky, where there was a break from the thick brambles of wood and leaves I had encountered thus far. I waited impatiently, listening and watching. The sun was setting now, soon it was going to be dark. Nearly giving up, I heard the caw erupt once more, this time from something I could now see coming into view. I only glimpsed it briefly as it soared rather swiftly overhead.  

         I struggled to understand what I just saw. It appeared to be the size of a person, maybe even a small child at least. That wasn't what confused me. This bird was red, oh so very red. No, it was more than red. Against the darkening sky it had appeared to be... on fire. That was not possible. My mind was playing a trick on me, it had to be. Yet, I couldn't shake this feeling that there was something strange about whatever it was I saw. I had to see it again. Despite the internal conflict raging in my mind, my body still chased after it. I knew this was a bad idea, that I had to just let it go and find a way back, but I just couldn't. I had to see this thing again. I had to know what it was. I raced after it, repeatedly checking the sky, hoping to spot it. Brief flashes of red flashed through the treetops, but never long enough that I could see it clearly. So I ran, never stopping, letting it guide me deeper into the forest.  

        You'll never find your way back now, I told myself, but I was already this far. The fear of being this deep in the woods grew with each step I took. But as I heard this captivating call once again, sounding closer than before, I ignored every piece of logic I was fighting against and kept pushing forward, shoving my way through a wall of hanging thorns.  

        "Ow, crap!" I cried, skidding to a stop, bringing up my arm to examine the now stinging sensation. Before I could look at my arm, my eyes were already entranced by what stood before me. I couldn't move, even my breathing seemed to cease. There it was. This bird was indeed as large as I was in comparison, as every inch of its body was cascaded in flickering red-orange flames. It was perched on a large boulder, resting in the middle of an open clearing that was encircled by clusters of trees, bushes, and vines. Underneath the dancing fire, it's feathers glistened with gold intermixed with the sheer bright red that was it's body. Its underbelly, a gorgeous shade of orange that travelled up its stomach to the underside of it's long slender neck. It was magnificent and beautiful as it stared directly at me, with large golden eyes set just above a curved elegant beak.  

        I took in everything I saw, amazed. It was too unbelievable. I was captivated by it's entire being, from the tip of the yellow beak, all the way down to the large fanned out tail feathers, with fire that rolled off them like it was the fire itself.  

        "Greetings human," a male voice spoke, inside my own mind.  

        I was too stunned to speak. I knew that this was not my own thought, or my own voice. Was I hearing someone else's thoughts besides my own? It was almost too much to comprehend.  

        "Do not fear me," it continued, "I will not cause you any harm."  

        My eyes were locked with this creature, as crazy as it felt to say this, I asked, "Are you talking... within my mind?" I had to be losing it. This was not real.  

        "Yes, it is me that you hear."  

        I struggled for words to escape my lips. It just answered my question. This bird of fire was talking to me. "What the-" was all I managed to say, with all my thoughts and questions rattling around.  

        "Who, you mean. I am not a what. I am called Nathazalar, the Phoenix." As he bowed his head before me, lifting it again, asking, "What do they call you?"  

        "Umm. My name's Allison," I stuttered, "Is-is this really happening? I must be dreaming."  

        "This is not a dream. It is very rare one of your kind can even perceive my presence. You must be undoubtedly special Allison, the human."  

        "You mean others can't see you?"  

        Every time I spoke I felt my own grasp of sanity slipping away. I was talking to a Phoenix, a creature in mythological folklore, and he was talking back to me.  

        "Yes, only those who have darkness surrounding their heart can see the hopeful fire of a Phoenix, like myself."  

        With a powerful beat of his wings he dove from where he was perched, landing directly in front of me. I gasped, unable to hold it in. As his glistening, golden eyes were inches away from mine, I held my breath. He peered deep within mine as if searching for something inside of me. "And only those who dare seek out the fire are ever willing to leave everything behind for the hope of happiness that we can bring. Are you willing Allison, the human? Willing to leave everything behind?"  

        "I..I'm not sure what you mean."  

        "If I told you I could guide you somewhere where you could find happiness, would you go? Would you travel across the realms to a world nothing like your own to leave all of what ails you here?"  

        "I don't know what you're saying. I don’t understand any of this!" My head felt like it was spinning.  

        He pulled his face away from mine as his eyes went towards the sky. "You're hurting, I can see it. Hurting more than you show the world. I do not need an answer to my question, for I already know the truth. If you have followed me here then it is your heart's desire to be rid of this world and carry on to another."  

        "How? How do you know that I want to... leave this world?" Even saying it sounded ridiculous.  

        "I am a Phoenix. We see everything. I can save you. Lost souls like yourself are my purpose of existence."   

        meant by any of this, but I was very certain that I did not want to die. It was true, I did in fact hate everything about my life, but that didn't mean I did not want to live anymore.  

        "Your suffering ends tonight Allison, the human. I hear your wish and I Nathazalar, the Phoenix, grant it." 

         With that, he cried into the sky, that beautiful, yet equally terrifying musical tone, as the flames surrounding him flared out; shining a brilliant light all around us. He took to the air, his gigantic wings pounding, as branches swayed by his immense force. Terror overcame me, as I had one thought and one thought only on my mind. Run.  

        I fled, barreling through the wall of brambles behind me. My feet beat against the now dark ground.. His haunting screech was close behind me. In my hurry, I scraped myself against a tree. I winced at the pain, my eyes filled with tears, but I did not stop running. I had to get away from this monster. I did everything I could to push my fear as far back as I could. Hoping, praying, that by some miracle I could escape him and survive this entire ordeal. The beating of wings swooping from overhead made that dream seem impossible. He was too fast. I'm not going to make it.  

        Inhaling deep panicked breaths, I looked back to gauge how close he was, just in time to see opened talons descending upon me. They slammed into my back. A piercing scream filled my ears. The scream was my own. My body flung forward, slamming into the hard ground, as my head collided into something hard. A ringing filled my ears, while I laid on the ground, unable to move. There was so much pain, I couldn't fathom it. My vision began to fade into complete darkness. The last thing I heard was the shrilling song of the Phoenix, before I passed out.  

 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

         I felt the downpour of water running down my body, as my fingers massaged my scalp. There was something about this shower that made it far more exceptional than any shower I've ever had. There was a sense of familiarity, yet I knew I couldn't have been back at my apartment. The water pressure in that bathroom was no better than a leaky shower head. I stood there, just enjoying the hot water pattering against my skin, even after all of the conditioner had been washed out of my hair. I knew it was time to step out.  

        Shutting off the water, I pulled the curtain back viewing into a bathroom I not only recognized, but I had seen for so many years of my life. I was back at moms. Then I remembered. I was home, with mom. I had just gotten back from school, right after volleyball practice. It was rough, and I still didn't enjoy it, even in the slightest. I had been thinking of quitting, but I knew mom would never approve of that. After my shower I had to do homework, like always, before mom got home in an hour. Although, in that hour I usually try to sneak in some video games, so she doesn't know I'm playing on a school night.  

        I quickly pulled my towel down from the rack to dry off. Once I stepped into my room, however, nostalgia consumed me. I halted, just to observe every detail. My bed sat in the right corner of the room on the same side as my door, as to not draw attention to the messy unkempt bed. My floor was relatively clean, with the exception of a plate and a couple cups here and there. There was a single dresser, that I was sure was handmade, and not very well at that. A hamper filled with clothes sat next to my closet door. In the middle of the room was my black bean bag, where I sat when I gamed or when I was reading a book. A small bookshelf was placed on the floor beside my tiny entertainment nook that held my television, favorite movies, and video game consoles. My four plain walls I had desperately attempted to decorate with free posters of movies, and games, that were given away as a method of advertisement. A couple posters were actually bought as gifts from friends, or family, commemorating the shows, and music I liked. Where there wasn’t a poster were pictures of people I cared the most about. The one picture that mattered most wasn't on display, like the others.  

        Holding the towel around me, I made my way to my bedside table, pulling open the top drawer. Several papers and various pieces of junk filled this space. On top was a white envelope, unsealed. Inside, I retrieved a photo of a man. He had shaggy caramel brown hair, messy from the wind outside. A smile, as wide as his unshaven smooth face, was directed at a little girl who looked to be the age of two. She who was held close against his hip, smiling back at him, as she stared up at her daddy. My thumb caressed the edge of the picture. I took a deep breath. Even to this day, I still miss him. It has been so long since he left, that sometimes it's hard to imagine his face clearly anymore. Then I see this picture, and it all comes back. Everything about him I remember. I can recall the way he looked when he smiled, or his eyebrows when he was upset. I even remember the way his cologne smelled, a hard woody scent that was damp from rain. He never came back to see me. Nor did he call to tell me that he missed me. I waited for several years to hear his voice, calling my name, or telling me that he loved me. I never heard those words the night he left, or any day after. When I watched him go out the door my mom just looked at me, and said "He's going to the store. He will be right back, honey." I didn't think anything of it, until in the morning, when Daddy wasn't home.  

        Holding back the tears, I slid the picture back in its place, before closing the drawer. Deciding that I was no longer in the mood to do anything, I simply got dressed in clothes appropriate for bed. I wanted an early night. Just as I had sat on my mattress, I heard my mother shout from the living room,  

        "Allison!"  

        As I heard her voice, I felt panic. I made sure to answer her call, as quickly as possible, "Coming!"  

        I walked into the room, as she was in the process of unstrapping her heels, tossing them by the front door.  

        "Hey mom, how was work?"  

        "Oh, work is work. You think you could take a break from school work, and help me with dinner?"  

        Before answering, I took a steadying breath. Why was I so anxious? It felt as if I was frightened by the prospect of helping mom cook. I wanted to be as far away from her as possible, but instead I said, 

        "Yeah, sure."  

        As afraid as I was to be around her in the kitchen, I was even more scared of telling her no.  

        "Excellent. Go ahead and pull the eggs out of the fridge. We are making fried chicken tonight."  

        "Yes, ma'am."  

        As mom started to take off her coat, I went into the kitchen, and did as she asked. My hands trembled subtlety, as this nagging thought of screwing up was pressing at the back of my mind.   

        "Allison, get the pan. And go a bit quicker, you're moving too slow! I don't want to be cooking all night!"  

        Her sudden appearance caused me to jump, as I quickly set the egg carton on the counter, and went for the pan cabinet beside the stove. Rummaging through them briefly, I grabbed a pan that  seemed as if it would be the right size for chicken, and placed it on the counter.  

        "No, not that one!" She sighed angrily, "You know what pans we use. I swear..."  

        "S-sorry."  

        I threw it back in with the rest, grabbing hold of a larger size. Without warning, she snatched it out of my grasp. My heart began to pound violently, as my breath was stopped short. Everything inside me screamed to stay silent. I couldn't even take a deep breath, for fear of what might happen. After a second, I slowly stood up from the ground, watching mom grabbing various ingredients she needed, moving in such a way, it was obvious she was furious with me already.  

        "Anything else I can do?" I asked, sheepishly.  

        "Boil a can of soup." Her tone was sharp.  

        The way she spoke, even the way she moved, made me uncomfortable, but I prepped a small pot and filled it with a freshly opened can of mushroom soup. I turned the stove knob to boil. I stepped back against the sink, making sure to stay out of mom's way. The last thing I wanted was to be standing where she needed to be, and piss her off even more. She hustled around our moderately small kitchen, for the size of house that it was, frying the chicken, and baking a couple corn on the cobs in the oven. It wasn't too much longer, I could hear the soup boiling, as small bubbles were popping. Before I had time to move, she yanked a glass bowl out of the cabinet overhead, and thrusted it at me.   

        "Pour the soup in this. Do it over the sink, so you don't make a mess if you spill. I don't want to have to clean up after you again!"   

        Complying, I took the bowl and set it in the sink, before taking the pot handle, and turning off the stove fire. Making sure to move slowly, so not to splash the hot soup, I took small steps towards the sink. The oven door was cracked open behind me.   

        "s**t!" My mom hollered.  

        Terror flooded through my veins, as I flinched, subconsciously releasing the pot holding the hot creamy soup. With horror, I watched it's slow descent. It fell from my hand towards the tile floor, teasing me with the anxiety of what will happen when it clangs, and draws attention to my accident. I know why I was so afraid. Why I panic when she says my name, freeze, when she's angry, and why I am terrified, when she raises her voice. The clatter of the pot echoed, as if the room was nothing but walls. The contents, pooling on the floor at my feet. Instinctively, my hands flew over my head, just as a hand smacked against the back of my skull.  

        "You f*****g i***t!" She screamed.  

        Her hand took hold of the back of my collar. All at once my heart raced, my breath quickened, and tears swelled in my eyes. My eyes shot open and I realized I was simply dreaming. Dreaming back of a time, before I ran away to live with Aunt Clara. If it was only a dream though, why did my arm still hurt so bad. I sat up in bed, looking at the cause of my pain. A fairly large scrape ran up from my elbow to my forearm. That had to have happened when I accidentally dragged it against that tree when I was running. Suddenly, all the memories started to align themselves. The fight with my family, talking with a Phoenix, being chased, and then when I was attacked.

        I sat up and looked around at my new surroundings. The walls were made of wooden planks, nailed in place. The entire décor was a very rustic feel. A door was across from me, that was also made of the exact kind of wood as the walls. The only furniture was the bed, and a small table against the wall. A simple oak chair was tucked underneath it, where my clothes were neatly folded. But if my clothes were there... I peeled back the wool blanket laying over me, as I was, as I had feared, naked, save for my panties, and a thick bandage wrapped over the entirety of my chest.  

I heard the door open, as I looked up, feeling slightly shaken up over the confusion as to what the hell was going on. I had hoped that maybe the face I would see behind the door would be a familiar one, but what I saw instead was a man who was noticeably tall. Standing maybe, six feet and four inches, as he was wearing a type of shirt you only see in movies. It was, what I believed to be, a white tunic. The kind that had string laced at the top to tie to make it fit tighter. Although, it was currently untied, so the shirt hung a little loose, showing off the top part of his chest. He wore leather brown pants that clung to his nicely toned thighs. There was no doubt about it that this man was fit, and muscled. His face was angular in shape with facial features, that were normally very soft spoken on most people, were beautifully defined. His cheekbones, his jaw line, even the slope of his nose looked to be highlighted thanks to perfect bone structure. In a way, it almost made me jealous. He had long auburn hair, that fell to the middle of his back. His bangs caressed the curve of his jaw, cut just under his chin, with a single thin braid that hung by his left temple. Two small, yet deep scars, were engraved over one of his vibrant green eyes that reminded me of spring.  

        As handsome as he was, I was shirtless, and he was a complete stranger. I yanked the scratchy gray blanket up to my neck, as I cried out,  

        "Uh, who are you?"  

        Instantly, I regretted the blatant rudeness in my voice. This could have been a park ranger, for all I knew, just wanting to ask questions and help me out.  

        "Excuse me, I didn't know you were awake," He looked down at the ground respectfully, "I wanted to check to see if you're wounds were healing properly. When I found you out in the forest you had substantial injuries. You've been unconscious for some time, we were concerned of the severity of your situation."  

        "Oh, so you're the one who found me. T-thank you. I'm fine, now. I think."  

        "That's great to hear. We were worried you would need more healing."  

        The way he phrased that confused me, but I decided not to question it. I was just grateful that I had been saved at all. I wonder if he saw what I saw, or maybe, I was delirious and running in the woods for no reason at all.  

        "What happened out there, if I may ask?"  

        "Oh, nothing. I just thought I saw something, got scared, and while running in the dark I tripped," I lied, "I hit a tree on my way down, and just scraped my arm a bit."  

        "What about your back?"  

        "My back? What do you mean, my back?"  

        "Your back, it's been burned by the looks of it. A very deep burn, appearing as if you were branded."  

        I tried to peer over my shoulder, to see what it was he was talking about, but all I saw was thick white bandages that looked to be stained red where my shoulder blades were. The size of the bloody red areas were not much bigger than the size of my hands.  

        That's where the Phoenix made contact with my skin, the moment he attacked me. I was silent, lost in the memory of what happened the night before. I didn't recall feeling pain of his talons, or even the sensation of being burned by the fire that resonated around him. However, if there is a wound from that thing, did that mean that this all really happened. I really did see a Phoenix?  

        "As strange as it sounds, they look to have the shape of a bird's feet. One of massive size, at that. What could have caused something like that?"  

        "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I muttered, looking back at him, as he looked back at me with a puzzled, yet concerned expression.  

        "If you tell me the truth, then it doesn't matter what I believe." He spoke with such confidence, and reassurance, that it felt as I could tell him anything.  

        "I was being chased, and this... thing attacked me. When he did, I must have fallen and hit my head, causing me to black out.  

        "He? That's oddly specific."  

        "He had a name," As I spoke, it felt almost as if I was thinking aloud, trying to sort out my own complex thought process, "He told me he was a Phoenix."  

        "A Phoenix? That's not possible."  

        "I told you, it's hard to believe, but I swear it. He was practically as large as I am, with wings, covered in burning flames. When he looked at me, it felt as if he could see my very soul. When he spoke, his deep voice resonated in my mind. I was terrified, so I ran, but he caught up with me, and the last thing I remember is his talons against my back, with me hitting the ground."      

        This man just nodded slowly, listening to my every word. As I finished speaking, he was silent for some time. I was desperate for a response. Something, anything, to help me make sense of what the hell I was talking about, because frankly, even I couldn’t make sense of it either. He approached the side of my bed.  

        "I'm not saying I don't believe you, but that is quite a claim. Maybe after more rest we can speak more on it, and try to figure everything out."  

        "Right."  

        So he didn't believe me, that's exactly what he was saying. I couldn't blame him. I wouldn't have believed myself either, if I wasn't the person that was there.  

        "Let me look at your arm. We haven't treated it. We should make sure it isn't getting infected."  

        "Uh, yeah, I guess." I held up my arm, as he examined it carefully.  

        "That's a fairly decent scratch." He said, laying my arm back down on the bed.  

        His hand went up to tuck his hair behind one of his ears, as I noticed how strangely pointed they were. Sure, some people have a faint point at the tip of their ears, but this looked to have been the result of a surgery of some kind. From the base to the tip, his ear looked to be four inches long. The tip of his ears were a good two inches, all on their own.      

        "Although it's minor, compared to your other two injuries, we should still have... What are you staring at?"  

        I came back to my senses, thanks to his jarring remark, not realizing that I had been staring in awe at him.  

        "I'm sorry, it's just your ears are so... different," I tried to be polite, "I've never seen ears like that. You might have heard this before, but it kind of makes you look like an elf." I chuckled, using humor as a way to repress my embarrassment of being caught in the act of ogling.  

        He responded with a half-hearted smile, saying, "Well, only half-elf."  

        I laughed, believing him to be joking, "Oh really?" I teased.  

        His eyebrow quirked in confusion, "Why would I lie about that?"  

        "Wait.. What?" I stopped laughing now. He actually sounded serious.  

        "I am going to go ahead and see if our healer can check up on that arm, just to make sure there's nothing to worry about. I'll return shortly."      

        With hands behind his back he bowed ever so slightly in my direction before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. What was he talking about? Surely, he had to be joking about the elf thing. He didn't actually believe he was part elf. That was just childish and incredibly unrealistic. Then again, everything that has been going on was immensely unrealistic. Ever since I first saw that bird in the sky, I have just been in awe around every turn. There was something very strange going on, that's for sure.