The Storyteller

In my nightmare, I lay screaming on the floor, four years old, watching my father kill my mother. I won’t make another sound for fourteen years. Not when he chains me to the tree, not when I am kept inside a wooden box under the bed, not even when he tries to rid me of the evil spirits with rape. I have no voice. All I have are scars from the branding and a heart that shakes with fear. When Tully, the white and black mutt that’s been my only friend, is hurt protecting me, I can’t stand the thought of living with him under the tree by Mama, so I carry him to the big farmhouse from where I’ve stolen food. A doctor lives there. Cole’s house is a place where they make food pretty, windows are made of colored glass and horses are rescued. It’s a place where it’s safe to sleep. Here stories called fairy tales melt my heart, Tully chases chickens and I learn to read. But Cole's past is marred by tragedy, too. When Cole learns who I really am, and can’t bear to see me, I must return to the gulley where Black Owl, the spirit only Daddy sees, demands my death. This is my story, and there is no one to save me except me. How do I find my voice in this place of ancient sorrow before it is too late?