Lake of Sorrows

It’s been several months now since I was left in this hell hole of a farm that my Aunt Margret surprisingly calls home. My Aunt Margret must have noticed that I overslept out of nowhere she came stomping down the stairs screaming. “Isabella, wake up, you're going to be late! Get your ass up right this instant. The animals aren't going to feed themselves, and you haven't even got dressed yet. You pathetic lazy child, I swear your parents did nothing but spoil you. They ruined you. Get up now, it is market day.” I slowly got out of bed, exhausted and defeat clearly showing. Last night after a cold dinner of oats, Aunt Margret came in half drunk stating that she wasn't able to go to sleep until the pig sty of a house had been completely cleaned. Which wasn’t a surprise that she didn’t intend to do this herself. It seems since the day I arrived, I have become Aunt Margaret's slave. Honestly, who knew a two-story home would take more than half the night to clean from top to bottom. From windows to floors, the woman was mad. She seriously wanted me to scrub the cracks in between the tiles. Who hunches over for hours to do tile, for Christ's sake? After the death of my parents, I lost a lot of my willpower.Begging the courts to send me anywhere else did nothing, but fall on deaf ears. They ignored my pleas as she was my only living relative. Anywhere would have been better than the torment my Aunt enjoyed putting me through. Every day since I’ve arrived, I’ve questioned if my life could get any worse. I have to believe there's no way it could get worse, right? Aunt Margret took pride in giving me a place to sleep in the basement. She liked to remind me nightly that I was no better than the pigs in the barn. If it wasn’t for the state of Louisiana she very well would have tossed my ass out there with the filthy pigs. Though Aunt Margret has several unoccupied rooms upstairs, I was at least “given” my own bathroom if you want to call it that. The small corner of the dingy basement included a miniature shower that only cold brown rusty water would spew out, oh what a prize! The bucket next to it, the woman told me it was called a toilet! I cringed the first time I had to use the bucket. The only positive was it saved me from having to climb a flight of stairs repeatedly just to use the main bathroom. Aunt Margaret is a wicked woman who only cares about her next cigarette, a tall glass of whiskey and making trips down to the casino. The woman stayed on the phone most days with her bookies looking for the next handout to blow through. In Aunt Margrets mind I am the root of all her money trouble. There were days when she barely gave me a warm or a decent meal that even closely resembled food. It was mainly stale oats that I was forced to live off of. It took me a few weeks to learn how not to gag over the slimy texture it created again though at least she fed me. Right? I hate living out here so much that I keep a calendar hidden in my pillow counting down the days until my 18th birthday when I can leave this place. Only a few more days to go Isabella, just a few more to go. Realization hit when I felt a cold hard hand make contact with my skin leaving a burning sensation behind that I had zoned out once again, “Stupid child, Seriously get to work”, my aunt barks at me. Her temper never seemed to let up. “Hurry up, we have things to do and I don't have all day to wait on your slow ass.” With a huff she turns and goes upstairs, leaving me to get ready. In the corner is a small bright pink plastic storage bin where I’m allowed to keep the few items I brought with me from home. My Aunt sold most of my belongings, leaving me with a few outfits which I normally try to rotate. Without a second thought I threw on a yellow tank top and a pair of jeans to get the day's work over with quickly. My guess landed on my favorite sage green sundress hanging in the corner knowing that I would wear that for our trip to the market later today. Quickly I brush my long hair into a ponytail and take a look into the partially silvered bathroom mirror, then run upstairs to start my chores before my Aunt can start another rant. The farm animals made it easy to get through the chores today. None of them seemed to put up too much of a fuss. The pigs happily took their slop. Penny the cow allowed me to milk her and didn't kick the bucket of milk over like yesterday, and the chickens didn't even try to dart out of their pen-like most mornings. Once finished with spraying out the horse stalls I'm able to rush to my cold breakfast waiting for me on the table. Not aware that I have already offended Aunt Margret. She looks at me with disgust, “Seriously child didn't your parents teach you no manners? Go clean up, we leave in 15 minutes.” She leans in towards me and takes a big whiff of the air around me. I didn't know someone's face could twist in such a way. “You smell like you rolled in the mud with the pigs,” she let out a gagging noise. Acting like the smell was going to make her physically ill. If you ask me, she's overdramatic either way. I lower my eyes and whisper a yes ma'am and rush to get a shower and change. Getting left behind again wasn’t an option. Aunt Margret doesn't let me leave the farm often, so I can’t help the excitement that builds at every opportunity I get. She believes the forest has dangerous creatures, like the ones your parents read to you at bedtime.The first time I was returned to her after running away not only was I beat black and blue, but she took it upon herself to create exaggerated stories on those creatures to frighten me to stay near. If these monsters didn’t get me the hidden quicksand, the copperheads that blend into the trees, or the gators that infested the swamps would. Margret's farm is somewhat nice. It’s a two-story white rustic looking cottage with bright red shutters, and a never ending driveway. The forest seemed to stretch for miles around her farm with nothing, but pine trees and swamps, in every direction. Living in Louisiana was a change for me with me originally being from Ocean Point, Maine. Growing up my parents had a beautiful condo that was right on the ocean. Where you could walk out your door and smell the salty ocean. Completely different to this giant man eating mosquitoes that come from the swamps. My favorite part about back home was being able to lay in the sand as the sun went down, counting each star as it appeared in the night sky being lulled to sleep by the sound of the waves crashing into the rocks. It is not hard to see that these are two completely different worlds. Even with the swamps, gators, and my devil of an aunt, I still was able to find a small way to feel alive in this new world. For me, there is just something about nature that comforts me. While I won’t go into the swamps to find it, I am still able to find a bit of peace, falling asleep to the sound of crickets outside the small basement window. Sometimes I even enjoy being woken up by the woodpecker attacking the termites hidden in the wood of the house. The ride to the town of Transylvania is about an hour and a half away. The ride goes on forever with only pine trees, with a cotton field or peanut field popping up in the distance on the long dirt road. Ever so often a pot hole big enough to sink the titanic would appear causing us to swerve into the ditch. The woods are filled with deer while gazing out the pick up window. If you get lucky you might see a herd of deer dart across the road like they were fleeing from something. I long to feel that free to be able to run and escape the nightmare that I am in.Once I swear I saw a huge wolf at the back of the fields, but Aunt Margret said it was most likely a stray dog that the locals no longer wanted to feed, then she would grumble wishful thinkings of wanting to do it to me. To no longer deal with me would be a joyful day. As I step out of the beat-up pickup truck, I can't help but stare around the village. It always made me laugh when I peered up at the tall water tower that had a bat painted across it, welcoming you into Transylvania Mississippi.”Isabella, I need you to listen closely I have a meeting in the next hour, while I'm gone I need you to do the grocery shopping for the next week. When you are done, head back to the truck, place everything in the coolers, then meet me in front of the library. Even if the town is on fire, do not come in that building, or I'll tear your hind up. Do you hear me? I will be along shortly.” “Yes, ma'am," is all I care to reply. Honestly, what is the point in arguing with her? If I argue, I won't be able to come back to the market next week, so I gladly take any task she hands me. “Here's the list and cash, no extra buying, '' she reminds me. Without a second glance she rushes away to her meeting. The market is bustling with noise. Vendors rushing to finish setting up before the early morning crowd floods in. For most the market is their only means to get items. Voices begin yelling to bring you into their booths with empty promises that their products are the best organic or best homemade you'll ever try. Some vendors even speak like their lotions have amazing healing powers, you know they will tell you anything to sink the hook and reel you in. What do I care about, though? Even though I have to stick to the list my aunt gave me, this truly is the best thing in my life at the moment. To just have an ounce of alone time away from the farm and the nasty witch I call my Aunt. It doesn't take long before I find Mr. Roger's Corner Market. Walking into the store and the bell rings, signaling to Mr. Rogers that I have arrived, “Well good morning my beautiful Isabella, what can I get for you today?”, Mr. Roger turns towards me with a smile plastered on his face. I'm still shocked at how young the man looks. Though he is fifty you would swear Johnny Depp ran the shop and would have to do a double-take.“Yes sir my Aunt Margaret needs me to get some stuff from you, she gave me a list. Do you mind helping me?” “Well, of course, let me get you fixed right up. It shouldn't take me long, I'll be right back”. He turns and walks away, glancing over the list I gave him. As he grabs everything, I stroll around looking at all the strange nick nacks they sell in his store. Shocked to realize you could use gator skin for everything. No kidding, I once saw someone purchase gator fabric to make curtains. CURTAINS I tell you!! This store contains everything under the sun, from deli meats to herbs and spices from around the world. My favorite section though was filled with what they call witchy cookbooks. Could you imagine if these were real? Aunt Margaret would probably call the local priest to hold an exorcism if she found one in my possession. Oh how I miss being able to buy things I wanted. Mr. Rogers always has been very kind to me, though I think he pities the situation I was put in with my Aunt. The woman had no shame at berating me in front of others whenever she got the chance. Mr. Rodger approaches me, bringing me out of my wandering thoughts. “Here you go child I got everything in these few bags. Be careful not to smoosh the rolls this time, the last thing I want is Margret calling, throwing a fit again. The woman never knows when to get off the phone, do tell your Aunt I said hello for me’', he says with a chuckle. Nodding and strolling to the next store on Aunt Margret's list not wanting to dwindle and causing her to wait on me. Before I knew it I had finished and was able to make my way back to the truck to load up everything. In the basement of the library is where the Court is held in front of the Royal family. All disputes from the region are brought in front of them so they can have the final say on every issue of the land. Entering through the courtroom doors could easily mean your death. “Miss Margret, it is your turn.” The receptionist speaks in a hush manner. Standing slowly I walk into the courtroom, not knowing what the outcome of today will be or if I would even leave this room. I shouldn't have kept borrowing all that money, knowing good and well I had no way to pay the royal family back. They aren't a very forgiving family in the least, and I feel after each meeting that they are growing less and less patient with my excuses. “Seriously, what is that smell”, the King's youngest son says. When he spoke it confuses me and it brings me back to the cruel reality I have placed myself in. “Excuse me Prince Marcus wha-what do you mean smell?”, I'm barely able to stutter out. The young prince terrifies me. He normally sits in complete silence, just staring with his blood-red eyes. The Prince goes quiet just staring at me, choosing not to explain what he meant by his outburst. King Timothy begins to speak, Margret you stand before the court on grounds of not paying your debt to my son Marcus, missing payments continuously. Refusing to speak to Prince Marcus servants when they come to collect. Even turning them away.Knowingly doing so is an instant sentence to death. How do you plead?” “Your Majesty, please forgive me”, I cry out as I fall to my knees, praying the fake tears falling would convince him that the web of lies I am about to spin are true. My brother and his wife passed away just a few months ago.” King Timothy quickly interrupts,” And how is that my problem, Margret? Do you really believe I care about any of your mortal lives? Wasn't it I who took their lives?” “Your Majesty, I had no choice but to then take in his daughter; she was his only child. Sir, I beg you to understand, money has been tight. I had to choose to provide for her or leave her on the streets to pay this loan. It was the only choice in the matter, she's family”, I hurriedly explained. Prince Marcus interrupted me with an eager grin,” You say you housed this child, tell me about her.” “Well,” I start... “She is 17, with her birthday coming soon, about 5 feet tall with long strawberry hair that flows down her back in waves, she has eyes the color of emeralds, but if I'm honest she is lazy sir. She came from a pampered home never knowing what real work is and then there is her mouth. She's full of sass.Constantly mouthing off when I ask her to do her chores. If it wasn't for having the swamp around the farm I am certain trouble would follow her. The youngest Prince's eyes began to sparkle, a mischievous smirk grew on his face. He then leans into his father and whispers something I can't quite make out. King Timothy nods, “Fair enough, son. Margret, instead of taking your life for the penalty of your debt we choose to get the money another way. Your death would provide us with nothing but a body to dispose.Marcus here wants the child. She is to be handed over to my family to work until your debt is paid off in full. Do you agree?” My eyes widened from the shock. They can’t be serious. I've heard of the dangers that lurk in the castle. They are asking for Isabella, a weak defenseless human, to work in that castle. Stories are told of the servants that go in but never come back out; they just vanish, never to be heard from again. This was the cruelest of punishments . Death would be easier than this and they are asking me to send Isabella. She may be a burden but do I really want her sent to be tormented? “Your Majesty she is just a child, she won't be able to …”, I start. King Timothy stands up enraged, quickly appearing in front of me, ” Do you dare argue with your King you pesky human you were given a choice you either choose death for yourself or turn over that child before the sunsets. Do you understand me?” It feels like I have been sitting on the library steps forever with the sun beating down on me. Aunt Margret should have been out of the meeting ages ago. The first time I came to this town, I was told not to enter the library. It is where all the town's dark secrets are hidden and to be honest, I'm not interested to find out what dangers are in there, so I wait patiently.A sunburn begins to form causing my skin to tingle, along with beads of sweat forming on my back causing my shirt to become damp. I wish she would hurry up,I'm not quite sure how much more I can take of this southern heat. A loud banging noise erupts behind me, Aunt Margaret comes rushing out the library doors with a panicked look on her face. “Come child it is late, we need to eat before our journey back home,” she says. My head bows any meal not cooked by my aunt would be a good meal so with my head bowed I hurriedly follow behind her. As we are seated by the hostess, our waitress rushes over with the menus, but Aunt Margret waves them off. “She'll take the King's special, I'll have a simple salad with ranch on the side. Thank you, Camille.” Camille quickly looks at me with a sad look beginning to form on her face. I'm confused why she would look at me like that, considering I've never met her before. After an awkward stare-off, Camille turns and rushes to the kitchen. It is beyond strange. “Look Isabella there's something I need to tell.”, my aunt begins, but the diners' bell rings, cutting her off she turns to see who walks in and instantly becomes stiff. The urge to see what caused my aunt to freeze up takes over me. The diner goes quiet almost instantly. You could hear a pin drop from the deafening silence. A boy around my age walks in with his father, I notice how everyone's eyes begin to look away trying not to be caught staring which honestly made me want to stare more, they both were gorgeous. "Aunt Margaret, who are they? I've never seen them before.” The words slipped out as my curiosity peaked at the gorgeous beings standing just a few feet away. Aunt Margret's eyes start to dart from side to side like she's trying to think of an explanation, panic clearly setting in , right at that moment our food arrives,” Hush child and eat it is getting late and you've got a long trip. You will need all the extra energy you can get.`` Looking down at all the food, surprised that Aunt Margaret splurged on me for the first time. In front of me was a huge burger fully dressed, a stack of the most delicious waffle fries I've ever seen, with a giant glass of chocolate shake. Now, this milkshake was a masterpiece. It had what looked like a tower of whipped cream, drizzled in golden caramel, and a triple chocolate cookie hanging off the side. My eyes grow huge, with drool forming at the side of my mouth. There is no way I will finish this, but I'm going to try! I take a huge gulp and spoon the whipped cream filling into my mouth. This had to be the world's fluffiest cream. I didn’t want to stop drinking it. It almost seemed addictive. It's been forever, it seems, almost like a lifetime since I got a meal that made me feel this giddy. A drunken giggle slips out , “Aunt Margaret, I don't know what to say. Thank you, this is hands down going to be my favorite meal.I know these last few months have been hard on the both of us.When we get back to the farm I promise to work just a lil harder to make your life easier.” Aunt Margaret looks at me with guilt. I’m not sure why she would, but at this moment I don't care. I'm just happy we can turn a new leaf. I go to take my first bite of the burger when I hear someone from the side clear their throat,” excuse me.”Looking over my shoulder I see the face of a young God before me., With his height he simply stares down at me. He was tall, with hair as black as midnight, eyes a hazel color with specks of gold, and don't get me started on that three-piece suit this man had style. “So I had to come over to introduce myself. My name is Marcus and you are?" Dropping the burger on the plate, shocked that this person would be so forward and approach me. I quickly reach for a napkin,to wipe away any condiments that might be on my face. I can feel my face turning a bright red. I choke trying to swallow down the mouth full of food just so I can speak, “Oh hello I'm Isabella and this is my Aunt Margaret.” Marcus turns towards her, nods as they must have met before, and replies, “It is nice to meet you, Isabella.” He leans in to kiss my hand, “I will leave you to your meal, hope to speak to you very soon." Marcus turns and leaves. Turning back to my meal I find a terrified Aunt Margaret and just giggle. Well, that was surely strange. Leaning in I take another huge gulp of my milkshake and begin on my burger once again. Moments passed, I begin to grow hot, the room has began to spin, "Aunt Margret something doesn't feel right, I don't feel too well. I think..I think I need to go to the bathroom”. Darkness starts to creep in, as the ground comes closer to my face I hear whisper "They gave me no choice, I'm sorry forgive me."