Finding Alina

Hi everyone!! I have great news! I finally picked which publisher I'm going to use for my book and I am sending in the contract tomorrow (had to get it notarized today and my sweet adorable toddler was totally over running errands for the day, so tomorrow we are headed to the post office!). I even sent my final manuscript to the editor which means they'll be working on it, very soon! I'm so excited and a little nervous! I hope it all turns out well and that people actually enjoy my book, ha!

In other news, I'm also working on editing my second book, which the editor told me to go ahead and send in for review whenever it's ready; hopefully they like it just as much as my first book.

Anyway, here's a little short story for you all. It drips of symbolism, which I'm sure you will catch onto while reading. Enjoy!

Finding Alina
By: SJ Sylvis
Copyright © by S.J. Sylvis

Finding Alina

When I wake up and pry open my eyes, I’m blinded by a light grey color covering the entirety of the sky. It’s a strange color. It’s light but it’s dark at the same time. The longer I look, the more I realize that my eyes are blurry, and everything seems to be in a haze. As I sit myself up, cursing my aching back, I rub my eyes and then feel the grime on my hands; they’re caked in dry, flakey mud. I take them and brush them down the front of my jeans and that’s when I see the single, giant cut through the front of my jeans. One, single straight cut. I think of how strange everything seems as I tilt my head to take in my appearance. I’m completely covered in dirt and debris from what seems like a forest. Twigs hanging off my sweater, mud splattered on my shoes, a rip in my jeans, my long red hair is greasy. What the heck? Everything is eerily quiet, and it seems like nothing is moving, not even a breeze in the air. When I go to get up and stretch out my sore aching limbs, I bend forward to push up from the dirty ground and I suddenly feel a sharp pain in my left hand.

            “Ouch!”, I grumble. I turn my dirty palm upward and suddenly the caked-on mud is turning a deeper brown. I have a single cut sliced down the middle of my hand and dark, red blood is splaying out. I quickly clench my hand shut, hoping it’ll stop the aching feeling. When I look below my hand, I see a lone black rock lying upward in the dirt. One rock, that’s all. Just surrounded by tiny specks of dirt.

            As I slowly stand up, hearing my limbs crack with every move, I’m stunned as I take in the area. There’s just nothing. Nothing for miles. It’s like I’m in a forest without any trees, or animas, or any living thing for that matter. It’s just me. Me? But whose me? I try to shake my brain hoping I regain knowledge on who I am, but nothing comes. Nothing but one single name; Alina.

            “Alina.” I mumble out loud, but I suddenly grasp my throat with my uninjured hand. My throat feels as if it’s been grinded with sand paper. Dry, water. Need water.

            I slowly turn around, hoping there’s something other than the ever-expanding dirt floor and hope sparks within me. I see a tree. One tree. The only other living thing out here; one single tree.

            My feet slump as I walk, feeling as if there’s heavy chains pulling my black boots in the opposite direction, but I make my way to that tree clenching my right hand to my stomach to somehow subdue the pain. The closer I get to the tree the more I realize that it’s an abnormal tree. It stands tall, with nothing around it. It stands so tall I can barely see the top of it; the one thing I notice that’s weird about this tree is that there isn’t a single leaf on it. There aren’t even leaves beside it. Where did they go when they fell off? Swept away in this desolate land? I look around for scarce leaves somewhere and that’s when I see something large in the distance. It looks square with a pointy top; the word ‘house’ pops into my quiet brain. Instead of taking myself to the tree, I head in the direction of the house. Maybe there’s water, maybe there’s something to help connect these little dots in my head.

            It takes what seems like hours to get to the single house. It’s small, and looks plain. Nothing spectacular about it; it’s brownish grey hue of the siding stands out against the greying sky. It looks lonely, just as I’m feeling in this very moment.

            I don’t knock before I enter, I just swing the door open; desperate for water to decrease this sand-paper, rough feeling in my throat. I immediately walk over to what looks like a water pale. When I lift it up, I realize just how weak I am. I can barely handle it; my limbs are trembling with a noticeable ache. My fingers are grasping onto its metal sides and when I feel the first bit of liquid on my tongue, my insides flare with desire. I’m so eager for the liquid that half of it ends up covering my body but I don’t care. All I care about is the fact its coursing down my throat, cooling that scratchy feeling.

            “Get enough?” I jump back at the sound of a masculine voice from the corner of the tiny house. I drop the bucket and turn around, raising my arms as if I’m ready for a fight. Who am I kidding? I’m too weak to fight.

            “Who…” I cough and swallow a few more times hoping the soreness in my throat disappears. “Who are you?”

            The masculine voice slowly walks out of the dark corner and faces me. The grey light from the one, tiny window casts a light onto his face and I have no recollection of who he is. Or who I am, except for my name.

            “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re in my house…” He whips his gaze down my body and back to my face “Looking rather disorderly.” I grimace in his direction and I’m surprised at my boldness for having no knowledge of what is going on.

            “I don’t know.” He tilts his head to the side and the light reflect his eyes. I can see that they’re a bright blue color; I almost get lost in them, just as I’m lost in this place.

            His eyes slant and he takes a look around his house. It’s as if he’s looking for something to tell him why I’m here, and who I am. I do the same, hoping for just that.

            “I know why you’re here, I just don’t know who you are.” He says, and I perk up with excitement.

            “Well, then you know more than I do.” I say this as my gaze winds around this house. It’s very small…and there isn’t much here. One bed, made up perfectly below the single window. One water pale, now empty, thanks to me, and a random closet of drawers pushed up against the opposite wall. Everything seems so lonely, or maybe that’s just because I feel so lonely.

            The guy with the bright blue eyes comes up to me and takes my dirty white sweater in his hands. I gasp and fight the urge to smack him, and then I’m left with confusion that I want to smack the only other person in the room, world, or wherever I am. He lifts the hem of my shirt, his cold knuckles grazing my warm skin and he rips part of my sweater and gently takes my hand and wraps the fabric around it, making some type of a makeshift barrier for my cut hand.

            “Brace yourself, because for what I’m about to tell you…you won’t like it.”

            “How do you know I won’t like it?” How could I not like it? I have no idea about anything. I feel like I have nothing.

            “Because they never do.” He says this with a sigh and I watch as his chest takes a sharp breath.

            “You’re here for training. I train the others that are similar to you, although, no one has ever come here so confused and disorientated. Do you know anything?” I feel a blush rise on my cheeks and I shake my head to make it disappear.

            “I know my name.” I whisper, feeling ashamed.

            His eyebrows raise to mine, as if he’s glad I know that much. “What is it? Maybe it’ll help me figure out exactly what’s going on.”

            “Alina.” I croak. My stomach feels funny as I say the name. When my eyes meet his, his face drops. He looks…upset. He closes his eyes and brings his large hand up to the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut.

            He mumbles, “Jesus Christ,” and then he paces the room. “You’re gonna need to sit down for this.” He takes my hand and I feel sparks throughout my body. He pushes me to sit on the bed and I stare out at the window, unable to meet his eyes.

            I find myself staring out into the bleak land, with the one single tree. The only thing out there for miles.

            “Alina, we’ve been looking for you for years.” I don’t meet his stare, I just keep looking at the secluded, deadly looking tree. “You…you were stolen from our pit when you were ten.” His pit? What?

“Where have you been this entire time?”

            I look down at my clothes; dirty, alone, lonely. Nothing but loneliness fills my brain, loneliness and my name… Alina.

            “I…I don’t know.” I look back out to the window, making sure the tree it still there. “I, I can’t remember anything other than my name.”

            Right as I say the next words, I see something in the distance swarming around the isolated, sad looking tree, “I think I’ve been alone this whole time…”. I feel a little twinge inside my chest but then I see a tiny, little bright green leaf blowing in the distance, right beside that tree. Good, the tree has a friend. I look over at the only other person in the room and his eyes are filled with hope. “You’re not alone anymore, Alina.” I feel something wash over me, hope? Happiness? I don’t know. But I know one thing; I’m not alone anymore.