Short Story

Guess what? I got art block! (*unenthusiastic yay*) But instead, my well of words have been overflowing so I've been writing and finished a short story called Before the Bluebells Rang Intrested? Well here it is!

Before the Bluebells Rang

IT was the end of another school day and John was thoroughly glad that it was over. Yellow light streamed through the windows as he picked up his books. The class was empty except for him and Mark.

John shifted his armload of books to his other arm and picked up the last one. As he did so, a small slip of blue paper fell out and fluttered to the floor. John put his books down and bent to pick up the slip of paper. How did that get there? he thought.

Written on the blue paper was the following: “Ask and it will be given to you; Seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” John reread the words again and again. “Ask and it will be given to you?” “Seek and you will find?” What? Who would write this? Who put this here? he wondered.

John shook his head and stuffed the blue note into his pocket, then scooped up his stuff and headed out of the classroom to his lockers.

The halls were mostly empty as it was late in the day. John had stayed behind to finish up some work. As he walked down the familiar halls he thought about the note and its contents. It sounded strangely familiar too, like he had heard it before. But where - John did a double take.

His locker was open for one thing - he never left it open- and a girl that he had never seen before was standing in front of it and was about to place something into his locker. “What are you doing?!” John demanded. The girl startled and dropped what she was about to put into the locker. It was another blue note.

“Are you the one leaving me notes?” John asked. He stared at the girl and she stared back. The first thing he noticed about the girl was that she was everything blue. She was tall, and had long wavy, chestnut golden hair with the tips dyed a light summer sky blue. This was styled in two braids that ran along the sides of her face, joining in the back as one braid.

She had eyes a light shade of cerulean that held depth like the ocean. She wore a pale blue dress that had bluebells embroidered on the hem and plain dark blue jeans. Her shoes were nothing special; just black boots with blue hints here and there. She had a darker complexion (but not too dark) and had an aura of gentleness and extreme shyness. 

The girl took a step back, studying John. He was nothing special - just your average guy. He was tall(ish), had blond hair that was almost white, friendly chocolate brown eyes, and a normal skin tone.

John was wearing nothing dressy; just a green shirt, jeans, and running shoes. Apparently he looked intimidating or something because the girl just turned around and bolted. “Uh, hey!” John called after her. He shoved his books unceremoniously into his locker, slammed it shut, and took off after the girl.

John darted down the halls, dodging a few people, their bags, and other things. He skidded around a corner and almost ran into a teacher going home for the day. “Sorry!” he called over his shoulder as he ran after the mysterious girl. 

She was fast, and that was saying something for a guy who ran track. The girl ran over to the stairs to the next level and sailed the first flight in half a second. John blinked in surprise. “Woah,” he muttered, then leaped up the stairs just in time to see her go up the next flight.

John continued to run after her, and soon they reached the rooftop. The girl threw open the doors to the rooftop and bolted through them, while John paused to catch his breath, since that was probably the fastest he ever ran up five flights of steps in his life, then vaulted out into the open.

To his dismay, he saw the girl heading straight for the edge - she was going to jump! John ran faster. The girl made it to the wall, jumped up onto it, and leaped. “No!” John gasped as she sailed the gap between the two school buildings. She landed and continued to run.

John was dumbfounded. Has she just made that jump!??! As he ran, he saw that he was nearing the place where she had jumped. Quickly, he judged the distance and decided he could make it with all his current momentum. Here goes, John thought.

John put a burst of speed and leaped onto the wall. In the same movement, pushed off the wall to spur him forward to safety. But then his foot caught the edge of the wall. Thrown off course, John began to fall. Just as his head went over the wall he saw the girl turn around.

He was falling. Falling fast. Wind whipped his hair into his face and howled in his ears. It ripped at his body as if it was trying and failing to slow his fall. John stared up at the sky as he fell, not quite believing he was falling and about to become a John pancake on the ground.

Time seemed to slow, like in movies. Was this really it? Was this really how it ended? He’d never imagined it’d end this way. It all seemed unreal. As he thought, he saw the girl looking down at him. He saw her jump after him, and now she was falling too. But she was falling too fast, much faster than was possible.

It happened too fast for him to comprehend. She shouldn’t have been able to reach him in time, but she did. She shouldn’t be able to slow their fall, but she did. The world shouldn’t have gone all blurry, but it did. And they definitely couldn't have ended up in a small apartment in less time than it took for John to walk from the kitchen to his room - but they did.

John sunk into a chair blinking. What. In. the. World. Just. happened. John shook his head. He had been falling, then she came and he wasn’t falling anymore and was in this apartment instead. John blinked again, his brain trying desperately to catch up.

Once it did, he suddenly had a zillion questions all at once. He looked at the girl, trying to sift through all the questions. “How?” he blurted. The girl looked startled at the sound of his voice. She looked at him and glanced down at her hand. There was a blue note there.

“Why?” John asked. “Who? Where? What? How in the world - who are you? Why did you - did that blue note just disappear into thin air? HOW am I not a pankake right now? HOW are you not a pancake now? How did I end up in an apartment in less time than it takes for me to walk from my room to the kitchen? Where IS this place? WHAT is this place?” Suddenly he was unable to stop the words from flowing out.

The poor girl looked utterly out of her depth, clearly struggling to find all the words to answer his questions. John took a deep calming breath, held it, then let it out. He was still trying to wrap his head around everything. 

The girl blinked and looked down at her hand again. John, to his utter amazement saw a blue note appear out of thin air right in her hand. The girl read it before it disappeared.

She looked up at John. “Um, that’s a lot of questions,” she said in a slightly accented musical voice. John blinked at her for a moment then shook his head. Good grief John, get a grip! he thought as he took a moment to collect himself.

John then smiled sheepishly “Sorry, I’m just freaking out,” he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Could you…start at the beginning please? I would really like some explanation.”

The girl fidgeted for a moment, looking extremely awkward. She finally sighed and pulled out a chair across from John. “I’m what you call a…messenger. My job is to go around delivering notes or words of encouragement from Misham for other people.”

John digested that. “So…” he began. “All that comes from disappearing and reappearing blue sticky notes?” he asked.

The girl nodded. “That is how He speaks to me.”

John tilted his head. “Speaks to you? There is more than one messenger here?“

The girl nodded again, looking slightly indignant. “Of course. You can’t expect one person to do all the work. There are many messengers, but Misham speaks to them in different ways.”

“Okaaayyyyyyyy” John said, slightly put off. “Explain then. How come we are not dead now, and how did we end up in this place?” he waved one hand at the room around them. It was small but comfortable, consisting of a table, two chairs, an old red carpet that ate your feet, an old tapestry hanging on one wall, and a bookshelf filled with very old books and trinkets.

The walls were a nice shade of brown with green hints in it. Bluebells, marigolds, tiger lilies, and other flowers were painted on the edges. All in all, it was a nice room.

The girl tapped the table with her fingers “Wellllllllll,” she said slowly, “First I’ll say I’m N.O.T. an angel, and second, choose what you believe.”

John gave the girl a weird look “Why would I think you’re an angel?” he asked skeptically.

The girl sighed. “Because….” she started, then stopped and tried a different way. “The reason you're not a very dead panake back at that school - and that you’re sitting here in my apartment - is that I flew you here.”  

John stared blankly at the girl. “You flew me here,” he stated flatly. FLEW. FLEW!? “Are you saying you have wings?” he asked incredulously. She nodded and John mentally melted. WHAT? WHAT? WHAT!!!!!! How can a person have WINGS? WINGS!

He looked her over. She had no wings that he could see. Still, it did explain things - but logically no one could have wings. The girl shook her head at him. “They’re invisible, but I assure you they are there.”

“H-how?'' John asked.

“Misham gave them to me.” she said simply, and no amount of questions would get her to elaborate. Finally, John gave up and sighed. So, he was here with a girl who has wings. She also saved his life, got mysterious blue notes, stayed frustratingly short on words, and apparently went around leaving people notes. What else would happen today?

“So,”John said, running a hand through his messy hair, “What now? Can I go home?”

The girl furrowed her brow, looking confused. “Well…” she glanced at John. “For some reason Misham wants you to stay here for three weeks.”

John’s jaw dropped open. This was wholly, absolutely, 100% the craziest thing yet. “Why?” John asked. The girl shrugged. Shrugged! As if that was a satisfactory answer! John sighed harshly, if only in his mind. “So let me get this straight. You want me - no, Misham wants me - to stay here at a girl’s house. A girl who I literally just met and I haven’t even gotten her name. He wants me to not go home to my parents for three weeks?” he said cooly.

The girl nodded again. She seriously needed to stop doing that. John tore a hand down his face. After a long moment, he sighed. “Okay, fine. Just let me tell my parents.” he agreed.

The girl suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Misham also said you can’t contact anyone, including your parents.” John stared at the girl with disbelief. She seriously couldn’t be asking him to do that. Did she know what that would do to his parents? His brother? He looked at her for a long time, struggling through his inner turmoil.

Finally, John threw up his hands. “Fine,” he growled with frustration. She was the only way he was getting home because the freaking apartment had no door out. And she didn’t seem like she was going to take him back.  What kind of apartment had no door!??!

The girl stood and offered a small sheepish smile. “Okay, I’ll show you the house and bring you to your spare room. By the way, I’m Bluebell.”

John looked at Bluebell and stood. He sighed inwardly again and nodded. “Nice to meet you Bluebell. I’m John,” John replied, his manners kicking in. Bluebell nodded with a small smile, turned, and walked down the hall.

The living room they had just left had two doors: one to the bathroom (it was where the front door would normally be) and one to the kitchen, which led to the laundry room.

The hall had three rooms. The one in the middle was a sunroom and an office, the one to the left was his, and the one on the right was Bluebell’s. All of the rooms were simply furnished and held the same red carpet and brown-green flower-painted walls, except that in each room the flowers became animals or cave wall-like paintings or birds.

In the middle of the hall was - quite randomly - a bell. Bluebell explained that it rang whenever meals were ready, and also when she was supposed to go on a mission. John found that quite odd but said nothing.

After seeing the house, he retired to his room to mull the day over in his head. John flopped onto the bed, which was very comfortable and soft. He stared up at the ceiling, which was painted skilfully to look like the night sky - so much so that for a few moments he had to remind himself he was indoors.

The walls of the room were painted to look like a forest. In fact, the whole room was themed on that. The carpet was the little pond (being light blue-green, and other pond colors), and there was a desk that looked like the stump of a willow tree. It even had small strings of beads hanging down like willow leaves.

The bed was pushed up against one wall. A stump was beside it with a small lamp on top. In the corner, there was a hanging nest chair, and beside that was this bookshelf that was the wall. It was painted to look exactly like the wall. The books in the bookshelf were the only thing that gave it away as a bookshelf and not a wall.

Beside the bookshelf was the door, and on the other side of the door was a closet that looked like it belonged in Narnia. On the adjacent wall was a huge window that had windchimes and a window seat. The desk was by the wall that the bed was pushed up against. Beside that there was a beautifully carved stork-like water bird. From its beak hung a lantern that had multicolored glass panels and carvings in it. All in all, it was a gorgeous room. 

John closed his eyes and listened to the wooden windchimes. He breathed in. It felt so peaceful here. With an effort, John got off the dangerously comfy bed and moved over to the window. He looked out and to his surprise realized that they were high up.

The window overlooked a district that John barely knew - somewhere near downtown he figured. Judging by the height, he guessed that they were on the top floor of a 30-something floor building. Some buildings reached for the sky around them, while others just dreamed down below.

The people on the streets from this height looked like tiny ants crawling on very thin branches. People were just dots, crisscrossing the roads at every red light. The sight was wondrous. John stood there for who knows how long, only breaking away from the window at the sound of a very deep, melodious bell.

John turned and walked to the living room that doubled as the dining room. Bluebell was there, setting out plates and whatnot. She startled when John came in, nearly dropping the plate she was holding. She quickly recovered and placed it down, then surged into the kitchen.

John stared after her. She seemed to be surprised by his presence almost every time he entered the room. Bluebell came back with a plate full of something that smelled and looked delicious. She put that on the table, then glanced at John before sitting down. John walked over to the other chair and sat.

Bluebell’s eyes flicked over to John, then down at her plate, then back again. Finally she came to a decision and sang. “Thank you for the flowers’ bloom, thank you for the wheat too.” John startled at the sound of her voice - it sounded like a bell - and the fact that she was singing.

“Thank you for all our crops, that we might eat this food. Thank you and bless this food, make it yummy too. Thank you. “ Bluebell glanced at John, then gestured at the food. “Guests first,” she said.

John blinked “Oh. Is this how you always start your meals?” he asked while reaching out and putting some rice, minced meat, veggies, and strips of mango on his plate.

Bluebell nodded. “Family tradition,” she answered. She handed him a small bowl filled with black sauce. John took it and poured some on his rice like Bluebell did.

“Cool, It's a nice one,” John told her. He took a bite of the food, and found that it was scrumptious. Whatever the sauce was, it was positively AMAZING. John tucked into the meal eagerly. “Mmm,” he said with his mouth full, “This is so good!”

Bluebell smiled shyly. “It’s also a traditional meal,” she replied.

John smiled back. “Your family has good traditions.” Bluebell flashed a smile and took a sip of water. John could tell she wasn’t up for any more conversation, so he contented himself to enjoying his food.

Afterwards John helped clean up. Bluebell told him that he'd be accompanying her on all her missions, but when he came he wasn’t to say anything. He was there to watch, and that was it. John nodded and agreed to keep his questions for later, when they came back to her house.

After that, John decided to raid the closet to see if any clothes were available. To his great surprise he found out that a whole week's worth of clothes in his size (and his liking) were neatly folded in the drawers. How did she know any of that?!? he wondered. When he asked, she said “Misham provides” and walked away. Apparently she didn’t like to elaborate on certain things.

John sighed and took a shower, then set about thoroughly exploring his room for other things. The desk had a charger for his phone as well as paper, pens, pencils, carving tools, and wood. John was delighted in this last discovery, as he always wanted to try whittling.

He started to pick up a piece of wood, but put it down again, deciding he would try that later. Bluebell said that he couldn't contact anyone, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t read what people sent. So John plugged in his phone and checked the lock screen.

What he found was heartbreaking. Missed calls from all his family members, unread texts that grew more and more desperate as time went on, and desperate pleas for him to answer. The worst one from his brother, James. It read “Come back soon.”

That one broke his resolve. John quickly opened the app and texted back, hesitating on what to send. “Safe” was all he could come up with, so he typed it and pressed the send button.

Nothing happened. He pressed it again. Still nothing. He tried everything, from calling James to rebooting the phone. Nothing worked. John sighed, defeated. He couldn’t contact outside even if he wanted to.

John turned off his phone and stepped over to the window to watch the city at night. It was too depressing to read those texts. It killed him not to answer, but he couldn’t. He wanted to answer so bad, but couldn’t. John sighed and settled down onto the window seat.

Hours (or what seemed like hours) later, John suddenly woke to Bluebell shaking his shoulder. He squinted up at her through the darkness. Had he fallen asleep?

Bluebell had changed into a blue hoodie and black pants and was opening the window. “It's time to go,” she said softly.

John stood and nodded. “Okay,” he answered, matching her tone. “Uh, how is this going to work?” he added.vBluebell turned and looked at him. John couldn’t quite tell in the darkness but he was sure she blushed.

“I’m going to have to carry you,” she told him.

“Oooohh,” John said, not at all thrilled at this arrangement. She fidgeted silently. John stepped up next to her a little awkwardly. She put her arms around his middle and took a firm hold. Then, without any warning, she jumped, sending them vaulting out the window.

John flinched and was about to screech, but then the world blurred and suddenly they were on top of a building. John snapped his mouth shut, his eyes wide. Bluebell nodded to John, then walked over to the figure that was sitting at the edge of the building.

“May I sit?” Bluebell asked softly. The person started, then nodded. Bluebell sat beside the person. They sat in silence for a while, then, ever so gently, Bluebell enveloped the person in a hug. The person stiffened.

“I care for you, my lost one,” she said. “Misham cares for you. He loves you eternally.”

“Why do you care? Why does He care? After what I’ve done, I don’t deserve it,” the person said hoarsely.

“I care because I love you. Misham cares because He loves you. He loves you more than anything. He still loves you after what you did. He will always love you.” Bluebell patted the person softly.

“Who am I to be loved?” the person asked.

“You are Misham’s child. Every child deserves to be loved, even if they do wrong. Misham loves you. He loved you so much that He sent His son for you. He sent His son to take your place in death.”

The person had no answer for this. Bluebell closed her eyes. “Misham Loves you,” she repeated. There was silence for a while, and John realized that the person was crying. Wracking sobs shook the person’s body and Bluebell rocked the person back and forth, humming a soothing tune.

“I am the Lord, Come back to me, my lost children like scattered sheep. Come back to me, my children, and rest in my embrace. Know that you are loved, my children, you will win the race, she sang softly.

The two stayed like that for a long time. Finally Bluebell moved, taking the person in her arms and gently placing the person on the inside of the wall. The girl was asleep, a peaceful look on her face. Bluebell walked over to John.

They left in silence. When they returned, Bluebell bid John a good night and left straight for her room. 

John lay awake for a long time that night, thinking about that girl on the wall in Bluebell’s embrace, about Misham and how He loved. As John drifted off to sleep, one question echoed in his mind: Does He love me too?

The weeks passed on like that, slowly falling into routine. John would wake, freshen up, eat breakfast, then depending on the day they would go on a mission. Once back, John would mess around with whittling or try to reply to his family (though it never worked). Then came another mission before lunch.

After that more free time, then a mission, then dinner, and so on. Bluebell, as John found out, rarely had anyone notice her at all, so when John caught her in his locker it had really startled her, and that was why she ran.

Throughout the weeks Bluebell became less and less jumpy and more and more prone to talk. She was very interesting to talk to and had many interesting stories of her many missions. The days flew by, and John found himself enjoying his stay more than he thought he would, so he was sad when the last day came to a close.

Bluebell and John were sitting on the windowsill, watching the day end. “John,” Bluebell started.

John glanced at Bluebell, “Yeah?” he asked.

“Do you want to become a messenger?” Bluebell asked. “You don’t have to answer now. Go back to your family and think about it. It’s a life changing decision, so don’t take it lightly.” 

John was startled by the question. Him, a messenger? That was an odd thought. “Hmm,” he mumbled, “I’ll think about it.” Suddenly he was feeling very, very sleepy.

Bluebell smiled softly. “My words exactly.”

John raised an eyebrow “Really?” he mumbled, having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

Bluebell nodded. “I think almost all messengers say that at first.”

“Huh…” John muttered. He leaned back on the window sill, a warm blanket feeling washing over him. It was so easy to sleep. “So… tired..” John tried to say, though he wasn’t sure he actually said it.

Bluebell looked over at him. “Sleep John, best not to fight.” 

John let his eyes close, and he fell into deep dreamless sleep.

---

John woke up in his old room. He sat up and looked around. How had he gotten here? Wasn’t he somewhere else before? No, that was ridiculous, of course he hadn’t. But…. he had the nagging feeling that he’d been somewhere else for a long time.

John squinted at his room, trying to remember, but all he could drag up was a picture of a bluebell painted on a wall. Weird. John swung his feet over the side of his bed. Morning light streamed down through his window, surprising him. Hadn’t it been night last time? And wasn’t the window higher up? John shook his head, confused.

Suddenly he heard his door open and John turned his head. James, his older brother, walked into the room. “John! You’re up!” he said delightedly, rushing over to hug John. “I thought you’d never wake up.“

John hugged his brother back, feeling happy to see him, but also a pang of longing, like he hadn’t seen James in a long time. James pulled back and studied his brother with a frown.

John furrowed his brow. “Where have I been?” he asked confusedly. “It was night time last….” Last what? Last night? Last hour? Last piece of chicken? No, that’s crazy, John thought.

James tilted his head. “That’s what I’d like to know. Why were you in the woods last evening? Where have you been for three weeks?”

John scrunched up his face and tried as hard as he could to remember. Only weird snippets of half memories came to him. John shrugged. “I don’t really remember,” he said. “Something about flowers…. and being high up? All I remember is weird snippets of things.”

James looked concerned “That’s really odd,” he said. “First you go missing after school, then we get no sign from you for three weeks, then you show up unconscious in the woods looking exactly like you did when you disappeared.”

John shrugged again. “Odd is correct.”

The two brothers looked at each other for a moment, then James smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered.

“I’m glad too,” John answered, and they both laughed.

“Come on, Mom and Dad will want to see you.” James said. John nodded, stood and followed his brother out the door.

It was already the next morning when John found the note. It was stuffed deep in his pocket. John opened it curiously and read. It said:

John, you will not remember me or the three weeks you were gone by yourself. You will only remember when your mind wanders. I have offered you the chance to become a Messenger. Think about it, and take as long as you need. If you have decided to become one, press the jewel. Do not press the button if you do not want to become a messenger.

Hope to see you soon,

Bluebell.

John's eyes widened, all the memories of the past days rushing back to him. “Bluebell,” he said with sudden realization, “So that’s why I kept remembering those flowers!”

Days passed, then weeks, then those weeks turned into months. John rarely thought of Bluebell’s offer, but when he did, he thought long and hard. It had been nearly six months when he found the gem button again by accident. 

John was cleaning out his bedside drawer when the small gem fell to the wood floor with a clatter. John picked it up with mild curiosity before the memories struck him. Bluebell and her offer, the messengers, the weeks he spent so long ago, all of it came rushing back to him.

John turned the little gem over in his hands, contemplating. Did he really want to  become a messenger? It meant doing things by faith. It meant talking to strangers. It meant spending less time with his family. It meant hiding what he was doing from his family. Did he really want to do that? No, he did not.

But he did want to help people, to save them, to care for the masses. John looked at the gem, picking it up in between his forefinger and thumb. Did he, John Andrew Owtoma, want to become a messenger? It would be hard to bring HIS word to the people. It would be trying. At times, it would be depressing. Could he take that? Could he persevere through it all and do what was wanted of him?

The gem glinted in the early morning light, sending a small ray of multicolored light slicing through the air. John stared at it, searching himself for the answer. John raised his eyes to look out the window. In that moment something shifted inside of him, something in his soul. He had come to a decision. John lifted the gem and the button firmly.

"See you soon, Bluebell,” he whispered.