Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.

~Rainer Maria Rilke

The lights blew out and the room was left entirely in darkness. My eyes widened without my control and I searched around me, frantically looking for a way out. Stretching my arms out around me, I felt my way around the room; it was cluttered and filled with obstacles that caught me off guard every step of the way. Every brush of my fingers against the clutter lifted a cloud of dust into the air, causing coughing fits that echoed through the room. I couldn’t help but chastise my own stupidity. What possessed you to come here, Ellyn?  You run away from home, find an abandoned house that looks like something straight out of a cheesy horror flick, and you decide to just waltz inside. Really, what the hell were you thinking? I’d been perfectly fine about an hour ago, sitting in my room listening to music and pretending the world was silent, ignoring the teeming population outside my window. But I just had to get out of there. I had to leave the city in order to clear my head. Nothing screams dead girl walking like wandering into a dark and dusty house that looked like it had swallowed souls for eternity.

My hand found a wall covered in peeling wallpaper and dust. I followed it around two corners until I found a door, the handle cool in my hand. I’d just turned the knob, my heart leaping at the thought of escape when I heard a dull thud and a muffled curse. I spun around, staring hard into the space around me, my heart racing. Staring hard into the dark made my eyes hurt, but there, just a few feet away in the left-hand corner, I could barely make out a looming shadow. I breathed in deeply and pulled in a lungful of dust. My body rejected the dead air and the coughs escaped my lips before I could stop or muffle them. I covered my mouth with my arm and turned back around, spinning the knob and shoving my way out of the room. To hell with escaping quietly. I needed out now.

When I’d walked into the house-stupid, stupid, stupid-I’d had no doubt in my mind that no sane person would willingly live in it. The place was in shambles; a hazardous dump. The only people crazy enough to live here were homeless people - maybe not even then. My mind conjured up images of Texas Chainsaw Massacre and House of Wax, encouraging me to speed up. I was heading towards a light when I tripped over something and found myself falling down a bumpy ramp also known as a staircase. When I hit the bottom my head smacked hard against the floor, my ears ringing and my vision blurring. Funny that the light was brighter now, right? Or maybe it was just ironic. Either way, the hilarity of the situation wasn’t lost on me. Stupid girl walks into abandoned house, falls down a flight of stairs, found dead weeks later by aggrieved, widowed father. Definitely fodder for another negative news story and a lesson for the ages. Kids, don’t wander up to a house that looks uninhabited by the living, and definitely don’t go inside. Believe me, it’ll save you the trouble of dying.

My eyes were glued to the motif on the ceiling, barely visible in such poor light. Were those babies? With wings? Tiny little cupids - tiny little naked cupids - floating on clouds holding tiny little bows with their chubby little fists… The air stirred around me and I was aware of the figure kneeling at my side. I couldn’t move my head - oh, God, it hurts - and I couldn’t feel my legs. I tried to push it with my hand, but I was so weak that I had absolutely zero strength. The forearm was warm, at least. When did it get so cold? Wait - why can’t I feel my legs? The figure leaned in and I closed my eyes, heart pumping wildly with fear. This is the end, isn’t it? Well, then, should I try some last minute begging? Maybe this person will take me to the hospital, kindly forget that I disturbed his creepy home. Don’t mind if I do…

“No, please…” My voice was hoarse and soft, barely sounding like mine. “Don’t…”

Alas, in my weakness, everything faded to black.

*A few hours earlier*

The music blared through my bedroom walls, drowning out the sound of the city around me. I hated it here; it was dirty, loud, and there were way too many people. It would drive me mad sooner or later - my bet is on sooner. For the last six months, my father has taken it upon himself to completely ignore my opinions and needs. The shock of the sudden and unwanted move was still causing fumes of pure hate to pour from my ears like a shower of volcanic ash.

He stole me from my beautiful country home, from my birthplace, and tossed me into this…this… This urban scene of concrete and chrome that suffocated any and all opportunity for the honesty of fresh air.  We used to live in a quiet little farmhouse on the outskirts of Asheville, North Carolina in a place called Peach Knob Meadows. I loved that it was so quiet, hiding so close to the mountains and in the woods; that it just felt like home. Now here, in another relatively quiet small town, I felt like I was drowning. So much noise, so few people I’d actually like to talk to. Not that I wanted to make friends here; making friends would mean giving in to Dad’s stupid notion that we could get by here. I’d like to see him try to survive the simpletons in town.

Being an only child seemed to make my father think I needed to be surrounded by people, hence the scene change. What he didn’t seem to grasp was that I liked being alone. I liked the silence, the sound of nothing in the morning light. He thinks I’m a shut in; one of those sick people that can’t leave the house because they’re too afraid of the outside world. Yeah, it’s cruel out there, but it’s not like a war’s gonna happen as soon as you take a step outdoors. My father thought that if he brought me to a city-like area, I would make friends and get out of the house more. If I wanted friends… and that was my point right there. If I had wanted friends at this point in my life I would have made the effort. To his disappointment and despite his pushy attempts to get me out of the house and into society, I’ve contented myself with my music.

Every day, I listen to it; blaring it so loudly that the window shook in its pane. I sang to it, I danced to it, I even pretended that I was a superstar stuck in a peasant’s life. I was content despite the unwanted move. I didn’t mingle with the neighbors, I didn’t answer the phone if I could help it, I didn’t even say hello when my father introduced me to the friends he’d already made. Most of the tenants thought I was either shy or mute. Either way worked to my advantage; they didn’t talk to me, and I didn’t talk to them.

In that way, life was simple and plain. A bit boring when compared to the everyday events and activities in my beloved Asheville. Yes, there were pools here, there were arcades, bookstores, and even a music shop, but that didn’t make it better. It only made me miss home more. The people here may have a tiny bit of talent, but back home I had met so many creative people… Some of them even inspired me to enthrall myself with music. Mr. Redfern, Asheville’s oldest resident, used to tell me that his art held him captive by his hands. He said that if he wasn’t painting he was writhing on the inside to touch a paintbrush on a canvas and make the colors bleed like a beautifully blended river. The way he spoke about his love of painting made me realize how I felt about music. It is a release of the utmost satisfaction; such wonderful melodies and harmonies and…simple perfection. When I surround myself with music it’s as if the whole world disappears and I am left in a void with dancing music notes and my imagination.

Even better than listening to music, is making it. I’ve played the cello for years, having fallen in love with the rich and vibrant sound during a concert in middle school. The auditorium had been filled with hundreds of loud, fidgety preteens waiting for the final bell to ring, the stage lit up as the guy sat down with his chestnut colored piece of art, and a bored staff barely trying to reign in the rambunctious horde. I was one of those bored to tears middle school students. There just hadn’t been enough opportunities in the day to sneak out… But as soon as he slid that bow over those elegant strings, my attention was grabbed and the beating of my heart slowed to match the pace of such beauty. My eyes had closed without permission and my entire body went slack with relaxed attention. Each note reverberated through my skull, etching itself into my memory as if it were the most important piece of information I would ever come across. That moment had been so emotional, so life changing, that when he stopped playing and I opened my weeping eyes, I was willing to beg for more.

That is how the love started and that is why I still play. The movement was more than I could ever expect each time I felt the strings vibrating beneath my fingers. It was bliss; it was beauty; it was life itself.

“Ellyn! Would you come downstairs, please?”

I rolled my eyes and let out a groan of frustration. Unwillingly and without any kind of happiness in my facial expression, I dragged myself off my bed and into the hallway. The place was mediocre at best; two bedrooms to accommodate the two of us, one bathroom to fight over, and décor severely lacking in up to date style. My dad had been so excited about it that he bought it as soon as the realtor had showed it to him. He’d been so excited that the grin on his face as he showed it to me instantly made me not want to go. Though…the house was nice and spacious and even a little homey; but it wasn’t anything like the house I grew up in. There wasn’t a beautiful porch to sit on, no view of the landscape or town; all you could see from this house was Timothy’s Bakery on the corner.

As soon as I left my room, my father appeared from around the red corner that led into the kitchen. The smile he flashed instantly caused suspicion and I had every intention on bolting back and locking my door. He waved me forward and I had no choice but to see what he wanted. The kitchen had been his favorite part of the house. He stayed in there most of the day, claiming that it had the best natural lighting in the whole house and went about all his daily routines. It was pretty much a second living room.

When I walked in the first thing I noticed was that he had been attempting to bake. There was flour everywhere and a batch of seemingly inedible cookies were cooling on a pan. A sigh escaped my lips; if he asked me to clean that up…

“Dad, what are you doing? You have about as much experience with baking as I do with sports.”

“Thought I’d try something new is all.” His dark hair was in a mad disarray on top of his head, sticking up in every which direction. My mother used to say the sexiest thing about a man was messy hair.

I cleared my throat and pushed the thought away. “What did you want? I was enjoying my music.”

“Yes, I heard.” He raised thick black eyebrows. “I wanted you to meet someone. This is Henry, Mrs. Ludworth’s son. He’s just back from London.”

A short, stout young man around my age stepped forward shyly, sweat on his brow and nervousness in every corner of his brown eyes. Usually, I was a sucker for brown eyes, but his weren’t even a pretty shade. They were like dirty mushrooms, or something of the like. Henry was not a looker in any sort of way. He was the kind of guy you’d expect to see huddled in a bookstore or cuddling with a cat because that’s the only kind of companionship he could get. His hair was far too neat, he dressed as if he were going to work, and he smiled as if he had a terrible problem with gas. I managed a smile, however, not wanting my father to see how much I instantly disliked Henry.

“I thought the two of you could grab a bit to eat. Some biscotti down at that café you like, perhaps?”

“Actually, I was just going to practice for a bit. Haven’t played in a while; thought I’d perform at the town talent show next month.”

“Ellyn,” he said softly. “You practiced for three hours yesterday. Get out of the house. I’m sure Henry can show you a few things in town you haven’t seen just yet.”

“Dad, I really—“

“Go, Ellyn. Just make sure you’re home for supper.”

My head started to go fuzzy from the lack of air I was getting. I can’t believe he’s forcing me to go out with this guy.

Henry was wearing an awkward smile, still looking as if he had gas, and was scratching his head. I tried hard not to gag when I saw the shower of white flakes fall from his head. In a daze and barely able to believe what I was about to do, I went to the living room and slipped a pair of old sneakers on my feet. With my favorite black jacket on and zipped, I opened the door and walked out into the cool air. Henry followed behind quietly, too shy to say anything, I suppose.

In true fashion of this godforsaken town, the weather was dreary and crowded with bustling people. The sidewalks were crowded and barely had enough room to walk side by side; for that I was thankful. Other than the bustle of the town and the rudeness of the people, it was an okay place. The buildings looked well enough, the restaurants were all right, and the sights were…mediocre, but not entirely unpleasant. The boardwalk was perhaps the best feature despite the cold coming in from the water.

Henry and I walked into Cuppa, possibly the only thing I like about this place. As we took our seats next to a window overlooking the ocean, Henry sent another gaseous smile in my direction. I returned it hesitantly, trying so desperately not to hurt the poor guy’s feelings. Shortly after, a taller, more handsome man arrived with our menus and took our orders. The encounter was short and painless, completely opposite of the embarrassment I was experiencing now.

“So, Ellyn,” Henry started shakily. “You mentioned practicing? What instrument do you play?”

“Cello.”

“Really? Like Jacqueline du Pré?”

I was surprised he even knew who Jacqueline du Pré was. There’s usually a sort of silence after I tell people I’m a cellist. “I’m not quite that good, but, yes.”

“Impressive. Very impressive, indeed. How long have you played?”

“For several years now. I started when I was ten years old.”

“You must love it. Your father says you practice incessantly. From the sound of it, for hours at a time.”

“It helps relieve stress and boredom.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together. “How can you be under so much stress that you play so much? You don’t seem the type to get stressed easily.”

“Don’t seem the type? And what type would I be, Henry?”

His eyes widened. “Oh, dear.”

“Look, the sentiment is much appreciated, but I’ve better things to do. Here,” I dug around in my pocket and handed him some money. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry. My treat.”

I walked out of there as quickly as possible without bursting into a run. I probably hurt his feelings with those antics, but did he really think I was going to stick around? Or give him another chance? There was no way! As soon as the restaurant was out of sight, I slowed my pace and locked my eyes ahead of me, headed straight for home. I passed several shops on my way, keeping to myself, before someone called out my name. I turned reluctantly, hoping to the heavens that Henry hadn’t followed. The person I saw instantly made me want to run. It wasn’t Henry, but this guy definitely wasn’t someone I wanted to encounter on my own.

“Ellyn!” He said playfully as he caught up effortlessly. “I see the local shut-in has made it past the threshold.”

“Go away, Chris.”

“Feeling feisty, eh? Well, then, what do you say to dinner?”

I rolled my eyes. “No.”

“Come on, Ellyn. What’ll it take for you to go out with me?”

“Nothing would ever convince me to go out with you. Leave me alone.”

“You sure do look beautiful when you’re angry.” He laughed. “Have you dyed your hair, Ellyn?”

“No, Chris, I haven’t. It’s always been black.”

“Like a raven’s feather.”

“No, like depths of my soul. Now leave me be.”

“You can’t run me off forever, Ellyn. One day, you’ll have to go out with me.”

“I wouldn’t go out with you if you were the last man on Earth and we were the last hope for the survival of the human race. Piss off and leave me alone!”

I didn’t wait for another of his cocky comments. I pushed on and practically ran until I reached the apartment building. The anger I felt at being forced to go on that joke of a date made me hate being in that town more than ever. My father poked his head around the corner, his eyebrow raised.

“You’ve only been gone twenty minutes. Where’s Henry?”

“Don’t ever make me do something like that again.”

“Wha— Where are you going?”

I ran down the hall to my room, put on a heavier coat, grabbed my iPod, and went straight for the door. The look on my father’s face told me he was not only confused, but angry, too. The apron he wore was still covered in flour like half of his arms and most of his hands. The fact that he was still attempting to bake annoyed me even further. He wasn’t mom and he damn well should stop acting like it. I flinched internally at the thought, instantly regretting it. However horrible his baking was, at least he was trying. While that may have distracted me from his anger for a moment, that moment didn’t last long at all.

“You didn’t even give him a chance, did you? You walked out on him as soon as you got there. Ellie, how is someone supposed to get to know you if you keep running off?”

“I don’t want anyone to know me, dad. I’m better off alone, anyway. It makes things much simpler.”

“How would being alone make it simpler?”

“There’s no one to say goodbye to when you leave.”

We stared at each other for a long time before he looked away, sadness covering his features. He felt bad for the regret and anger I still felt about leaving home, about the absence of the friends in my life. The move had not done what he thought it would do, but there just wasn’t enough money to go back.

“I’m going for a walk.” I said softly. “I’ll be back in time for supper.”