A Knight in Central Park(3)
She gazed at the stones in her trembling palm. Had these simple rocks truly brought her through time? Could Grandfather’s stories have been naught but the truth?
Perplexed, she realized there had been five stones before, but now there were only four. She scoured the snow-covered ground, finding nothing. Yet one stone was clearly missing.
Waves of terror struck her as she realized she was not in familiar territory. Where was she? What demons would she be forced to fight now?
At the sound of a grunt, she whipped about, startled by the sight of a man wrapped in a coverlet, sleeping beside an old crate. Her heart thumped against her chest. Thankfully, he did not appear to take notice of her.
She took a step backwards, trying to stay calm when a young man walked past, acknowledging her presence with a nod. He had green spiky hair, and he carried a strange box that exploded with a ghastly noise. He too, seemed unaffected by her presence. Covering her ears, she hurried in the opposite direction, following one of many trails in the snow-covered grass. Her muddied slippers slid across patches of ice. Her feet felt numb.
A dull ache gnawed at her insides and her teeth chattered. Within moments a new cacophony of sounds invaded her senses: blaring horns and the squeals of so many rusty carts. The earth groaned beneath her feet.
Market Day! Mayhap she could find someone to help her, she thought as she trudged onward. Through tangled bare wintry branches of trees and shrubs she saw a blur of fast-moving carriages, their wheels whirring like windmills let loose. No horse leading the way. Strange indeed!
A high-pitched bell rang out behind her. A gust of air brushed against her back. Whirling about, she stumbled backwards to avoid being run over by a man on a metal stick with wheels. The man’s legs went around and around in furious circles and the wheels did the same. Her eyes widened at the sight of such a wonder.
“Fiery flap-dragons,” she muttered. Grandfather had been telling the truth all along. Her eyes misted, her body and mind filled with bewilderment. She tried to remember the stories he had told her about his stones...about the strange places they could take her. After her mother died, his tales had been what she clung to instead of her mother’s skirts. His stories of strange worlds filled with flying machines and fast moving carts had made her smile again, kept her from falling into a gaping hole of despair. Mostly his stories had given her permission to believe that anything was possible...except the one thing she wanted most. Her mother. Once she realized Grandfather’s stones could never bring her mother back, she stopped believing.
Until now.
With a trembling hand, Alexandra slid the remaining stones in the hem of her skirt. Her teeth chattered from the biting cold as she tried to think of what to do next. First, she decided, she needed to find the man Grandfather had so often spoken of. If Grandfather’s tales held true that would mean the man on wheels could have been The Chosen One. Grandfather often said she would have no need to search for help because her Knight would find her. When she gazed upon this knight...
She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to remember. Hellspawn! She could remember naught but the fact that this Knight’s eyes would be filled with desperation. Or was it despair? Something in the man’s gaze was to tell her that he was The One. Ludicrous! ’Twould be impossible to stare into the face of every man she came upon.
She studied the path in the snow where the man on wheels had disappeared. The gnawing in her gut subsided somewhat, and she thanked the lord for that, for she would not let grief and sorrow determine her future. She had a family to look after. They were in danger.
A cool breeze whipped strands of hair about her face as she resolved to swallow her fear and self doubts. Fear would not rule her actions. She must keep her wits about her. As sure as the sun rose each day, she would do as Grandfather instructed. She would find a hero. And she would be quick about it. Never mind that finding this man and returning home with him could prove to be her ruination.
Her eye twitched at the thought of being shackled to a man for the remainder of her life. Most of the women in her village longed for a man’s protection, and yet once they found themselves shackled to a man, their plaints were many. Alexandra had enough responsibility. Another mouth to feed, another person to care for; the mere thought was too much to bear. Everyone in the village knew of her fate, for they too had listened to Grandfather’s stories over the years. His prophecy declared that after The Chosen One destroyed the dark cloud hovering over her family, he would then become her husband. But she never worried overly much about her fate, since she believed her grandfather’s tales held no truth.