09/09/2024
She felt the weight of her decisions pressing down on her like a heavy stone. Every misstep, every mistake seemed tied to something deeper, something darker than mere human error.
It gnawed at her insides, whispering that perhaps these miseries were not entirely of her own making. Desperation took root.
She needed to know why, needed to understand. Was it possible she was cursed?
Closing her eyes, she searched inward, diving into the swirling darkness of her mind’s eye. It was there, in the depths of her subconscious, that she saw it — a black bird hovering over the crib of a newborn child.
Its wings stretched wide, casting a shadow that suffocated the faint light around the infant.
The child stirred beneath the bird's gaze, vulnerable and unaware of the evil perched above it.
The bird’s eyes gleamed like polished obsidian, filled with something ancient and malevolent.
She shivered and reached out, drawn by an invisible cord that tugged at her very soul. Following its pull, she found herself standing in a cold, dimly lit room. A single, narrow window allowed slivers of moonlight to filter in, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
“What are you?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
The black crow cocked its head to one side, its eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “I am the Ownership Bird,” it rasped, its voice like the grinding of stones.
The bird spread its wings, and she saw them stretch, not just across the window, but up into the sky. She followed the path they traced, her gaze drawn upward to where a labyrinth of telegraph wires ran like veins through the night. Each wire bore another black bird, perched and waiting, their beady eyes glinting in the distance. They were a network and spoke to each other, receiving orders to control their human. They reported to a Master Bird.
Her heart sank as she realized the depth of their reach.
She gasped as recognition flooded her mind. The child was herself, wide-eyed and innocent, untouched by the years of pain and regret. The black bird hovered above the child like a dark guardian, presiding over her with grim authority.
The child stared at the Ownership Bird, saying nothing, but the truth was there in her eyes. This was the part of her that had been taken, the part that had been claimed by forces she didn’t understand. The bird cawed, its voice sharp and cruel. It seemed to dare her to reclaim this part of herself.
She hesitated, but then she saw the child age before her eyes. Slowly, steadily, the girl grew older, her features mirroring the years lost to bad decisions, to isolation, to regret.
And then, the child spoke, her voice soft but unmistakable.
“I am Sleeping Beauty.”
She had been asleep, unaware of the years slipping by in darkness.
“It’s time to wake up,” she whispered, stepping closer to the child.
But the black bird screeched, its wings thrashing against the window. The room trembled under its rage. “No!” it cried. “She is mine! You cannot free her!”
The bird’s voice grew louder, more frenzied, as dark energy began to pulse from its wings. Needles of black light shot toward her, stabbing at her heart. The pain was sharp, nearly unbearable. The curse tightened its grip on her, the bird's voice hissing in her ear. “You will make bad decisions,” it promised. “You will remain alone. You are mine.”
But she would not give in. She reached out for the girl, for that part of herself that had been hidden away, and she pulled her close. In that moment, she felt the love she had long denied herself, the connection that had been severed by years of darkness. The bird’s control began to slip, its power waning as the girl melted into her embrace.
The curse had been meant to keep her powerless, alone, and disconnected. But now, she understood. This part of her was not meant to stay hidden. It was meant to be reclaimed.
In a voice that was stronger than she had ever felt before, she called upon fire.
Flames erupted around her, encircling the bird, casting its shadowy form into sharp relief. It screeched in agony, its wings beating frantically against the flames. But she did not flinch. With the fire raging, she called upon the sea. A great wave crashed into the room, extinguishing the flames and washing away the black bird’s ashes. But she could still feel its presence, lingering like the faint scent of burnt feathers.
It wasn’t enough. Not yet.
She summoned the whirlwind, and the winds howled through the room, tearing apart the last remnants of the bird’s hold. And then, with finality, she called upon the earth.
The ground opened beneath her, swallowing the bird’s remains, burying them deep where they could never rise again.
As the room fell silent, she looked down at the cake in her hands. A freedom cake. Its candles flickered softly, their flames dancing in quiet celebration.
She lit each one, a symbol of the soul she had reclaimed, of the freedom she had fought for.
And then she called on Him, her voice rising with the echoes of the saints. “Jesus, guide her home,” she prayed, feeling the divine warmth wash over her. In that moment, the child — no longer a prisoner, no longer Sleeping Beauty — whispered softly,
“I am home.” She smiled, tears falling freely as she realized the truth. The lost had been returned. The kingdom that had been stolen from her, that had been claimed by darkness, was now hers again.
The Ownership Bird was gone, banished by fire, sea, wind, and earth. It would never claim her again. She was free.
