Caged Bird

• Renatha Du Toit, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2015

I said goodbye, I wish I hadn't. I said farewell, I wish could take it back. I watched you leave, I wish I had followed you.

You had worn a servants braid and a solemn expression that didn't suit you. You begged me to flee into the forest to escape our captors that stole our lives. I was scared. I watched you chase after your fantasy, after the Forest Guardian. You were a dreamer, always telling me the fairy rescued children who needed them. I never believed a word of that tommyrot.

The legend became even more fanciful as I remained a slave. I always hoped you were now free and if not in life, then in death.

For six years I have watched you evaporate, slipping through my fingers like the water I collect. Your brown eyes reflect in the pots I scrub, your laugh escaping with each bubble I pop on your behalf. I would follow you now but the shackles on my ankles barely allow movement. You dance into my dreams every night, you know. Do you remember your visits? I do.

I wonder if you could still bare to look at me, my back scared with white claws and my body no more than a skeleton. My hollow face no longer knows the lips of freedom's kiss.

"Fetch me a flask, boy!" they'd order me. "Bring the ale! Don't stumble you fool! Twenty lashes for your defiance," they'd snarl. They love seeing me suffer. I'm glad you fly free like the peaceful dove you were named for.

I am at the forests edge, my hands pruned and raw from scrubbing the clothes that piled high like the mountains you love. I always volunteered for this job, the remanence of your existence still lingering in this place.

The breeze seeps through me but I don't shiver, I wish my soul to be taken with it. I can hear your voice in it now, were you in there already? Take me with you. Please.

Through the water in my eyes, I see your angelic face, more lovely than I remembered, peek from the dark trees. The stars are your audience as you walk towards me in a flowing white dress.

"Come, brother," you call me, your pristine hand held out for mine. Did I dare believe this mirage to be true? No. I've seen you appear too many times. My eyes fall to the calm stream, the moon is the halo around your hair of gold.

"Come, Sparrow," another voice beckons, calling my name. I had nearly forgotten. It no longer seemed to belong to me.

My gaze rests on a woman in a matching white dress to yours. Her hair is a fiery fire with forest green eyes that look kindly upon me.

"Who are you?" my voice grates against my throat. The words are foreign on my tongue from lack of use.

You both answer. "We are the Forest Guardian. Flee, Sparrow. Fly free once again."