She woke as she always had, half-remembering her dreams, feeling them fade and slip into obscurity as the demands of the day pressed in upon her soon after waking. It was a life she led, but one she hadn’t counted on. Of course, given what other people had to go through at times in their own rat race-inspired existences, she didn’t have it so bad.
Rising to her feet from the bed Tina felt the ever-constant presence of her bracelet, its three points digging lightly into her wrist as she looked down at it. As trinkets went its tarnished silver appearance wasn’t much, but it was important to her, a reminder of why she did what she did, and a meaning in a time when the world around her had almost none.
It was the last piece of her life that she had left, the life that she’d thought was normal. It was the last piece of her brother, a memento of a life that had gone on without her. Blowing out a long breath Tina ran both hands through her long, reddish hair, a dye job that had yet to grow out. At times she could barely recall just what color it had been originally.
Tina had shown up ten years ago in this part of the world, far from home but not too far. Despite having learned where she was however, she’d done her level best to remain here on the peninsula, having found in her travels that she’d much rather be on her own, alone to figure out just what had happened, what she was to do about it, and what she was meant to do after. The first two had come before the third, and had eventually had began to make sense, though it had been no less heartbreaking for the loss. But she’d pushed on, and done whatever she could to make a life. She’d done okay in her own opinion.
The ringing of the telephone, a cell phone as she had no land line, alerted her to the device as it chimed and rung upon her bedside table, the picture that appeared upon the screen that of a smiling, carefree older woman. Blinking several times she picked up the device, thumbing the screen to the side as she then placed it to her ear.
“Good morning Anne,” she said in a groggy voice, “I trust this is more than just a social call.”
“Indeed,” said the woman on the other end, her voice telling much of her advanced years. Anne Saari was a senior librarian at Ilwaco High School, and most of all, Tina’s mentor. The woman had given her a chance when several others had been against her attempt to find a place in the school system, becoming not unlike an aunt or a favored family friend. She’d given Tina so much that it was impossible to do anything other than what had become her purpose.
She was the storyteller, or in the politically correct term, the assistant librarian, and as such it was up to her to facilitate story time at the local girls and boys club just down the hill from the high school. If nothing else, it helped her to pass the time, and it served a purpose. And it enabled her world to continue, and remember why it was so important to believe in fairy tales.
It was a simple line that came to mind just then, not even a full sentence, but something still so important nonetheless, a reference for so many fairy tales, legends, and myths that had become important cornerstones of humanity. Tina actually smiled as she allowed the thought to come, remembering a little blonde-headed boy who’d done his best to insure that such a world survived.
Once upon a time…