Story fragment from my mind
Nate was sure he had seen this girl before. She had said she was lost or rather she had said she was a Lost. What did that even mean? Her eyes were enchanting as if she could pierce his soul; that was what struck him as the most familiar. He knew he had seen those eyes before or rather eyes like them before. Iris stared at him for a little longer then yawned and stretched.
“Are you going to sit looking like a confused puppy all day or are you going to process anything I have told you?” She asked sitting on the flat rock and crossing her legs.
“I feel like I have seen you before…” Nate admitted. “I have been thinking about what you said but it is bothering me.”
“Oh lord, I tell you, you are a Lost, and you are worried about what I remind you of?”
“Well, it bothers me.” Then it clicked. Nate pointed at her in realization. “I know now! I have seen your portrait before. It is a town legend! Libby! Libby Chestwick!”
“Uh, that is Cheswick.” Iris sighed. “I am honestly surprised at this. Someone knows that name… more or less.”
“Oh everyone has heard of Lily Libby.” Nate stated. “Like I said, she is a legend. She-“
Iris started to laugh. “Oh yes I know the legend well myself.”
“Oh well I imagine…” Nate started but Iris cut him off.
“Sweet little lily Libby
Born in the purest of snows
With enchanting eyes and golden curls
The hearts of men did know
Yet despite callers
All of whom came and went
Lily Libby never faltered
She remained innocent.”
Iris stood and started to pace with a dancing motion.
“One man sought her hand
A hand she would not give
Perhaps she should have
And maybe lived
He came to her house
Concealed by night
Maybe she should have hid
Or even taken flight
But she remained in bed
And so he came
And insured she could never wed
Better she had died outright
Then to have her chastity torn
And her body missing
Never found
Despite the search that took place
The next morn
Oh sad, sad little lily Libby
Born on the purest of snow
Her story and tragedy
The hearts of men do know”
Nate stood silent unsure of what to say. Iris took the opportunity to continue. “Little did they realize as so many fail to do, that little lily Libby survived that night too. Though not I think as they would like, for little Libby, no longer pure drove through the man’s wicked head a railroad spike.” Her eyes were hard and cold but suddenly changed to soft and enigmatic again as she grinned. “Then a Lost she became; neither going nor coming but forever circling, preventing damnation’s hellish grasp from those who come in the night to snuff out innocent light.”
Finally finding his voice Nate spoke. “I am sorry, Iris. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Oh you’re fine; worry not your pretty head.” Iris laughed patting him on the shoulder. “I have been a Lost long enough to come to terms with the fact that I have baggage and in that baggage comes issues that should not interfere with my existence but does anyway. Such is the nature of having a past and knowing what that past was.”
“So if you are a Lost you can wander in your form for over 50 years and only age one?” Nate asked doing the math.
“Yes. That is just how it is. No bargains are made to become like us, no souls sold, nothing like that. We just are. Like that fuzzy stuff that winds up on black garments, no one tried to make us or put us where we are, but once there we are very hard to get rid of.” Iris picked up her sword and sheathed it as she started to walk towards a narrow path.
“Yes, that is what I have always wanted to be compared to, lent.” Nate rolled his eyes as he followed her.