Alone

Her name was Ambrosia and for as long as she or anyone could remember she had no friends. She had always been that silent girl in the corner that no one remembered or was aware of unless they needed her. In part one would suppose, it was also her fault. Ambrosia was willing, perhaps too much so. One needed only to call her name and she would be there to help, in any small way that she could. As was her nature she always wore a thoughtful look on her face, a somewhat solemn pondering look. Her dark almond shaped eyes looked off into the distance; rarely focused. At times it almost seemed she was not even there, in her body, but far away, in a dreamscape of which only she alone could see and feel.

In many ways this speculation was correct. The silent girl did live in a far away land, or rather, a far away meadow. Its splendor could only be observed from her mind. The meadow itself was a soul shearingly beautiful refuge. Small flowers of various kinds dotted the gently swaying grasses. Occasionally, a wondering unicorn would pass through silently blessing the land, plants and other animals that frequented the meadow. A juvenile spring bubbled up excitedly from the ground, creating a diminutive fountain in its wake. This adequate amount of water was free for all: no restrictions, no boundaries.

Yet as is every place man has set foot upon, an awkward air hung over the meadow. Though unlike most of the species of man: Ambrosia willingly gave more than she took. In numerous situations she saved and helped wounded animals and their babes. However, as caution had deemed their nature, the animals came and went with dawn and twilight. For in the end, as always, Ambrosia was yet again alone.

One night as Ambrosia lay in bed staring at the ceiling with that far away expression, the most amazing event occurred. One so brief that had she not been snapped back from her own reality by the sudden dimming of the lights she would have missed it entirely. The startled young woman blinked, adjusting her vision to her abruptly dark room. A rather unnecessary action as a new light began to fill her room. Scared yet intrigued, the dark haired girl sat up in her bed, now, fully alert. The light that filled her room was a powdery white glow tinted with soft shadow blue. As the maiden stared into the silvery radiance a creature began to emerge.

Ambrosia suppressed a gasp. It was a unicorn. The mythical beast¡¯s beauty was beyond definition as it gracefully materialized before the momentarily baffled girl. Once she realized what was happening: enthusiastically the girl reached out a hand, palm up to the legendary creature. Slowly, almost calculated, the noble animal bowed its head. Then, ever so faintly touched it¡¯s crystalline horn to her curious fingers... Once... Twice... Thrice. Charm complete, the glorious creature vanished. All the lights came back on in Ambrosia¡¯s room with a placid humming sound. The girl was frozen, surprised; arm still outstretched to an invisible being. Little by little she sank back onto her bed; amazed and shocked, beyond definition. Slowly she let out a breath she was not aware she had held. Silently she lay back on her bed and turned off the artificial light, which seemed to be more sickly yellow than usual.

A gentle breeze danced across Ambrosia¡¯s face; dropping a small pink flower across her chest. The young woman blinked delicately as her eyes adjusted to the glare of the sun. Confused, the girl sat up quickly.

Where was she? Ambrosia looked around herself. She knew this place. But... it was... changed. Leisurely she got to her feet.

She was... in her meadow. Ambrosia turned around in a wide circle. Yes, this was definitely her meadow. Though... to the eastern clearing someone or something had erected a small shack. The young woman shook her head, puzzled. Last time she had visited this haven there was no shack, in fact last time she visited - as always - there was no evidence of human life.

Curiously she moved closer to investigate the strange structure. Her untrained feet moved noiselessly across the distance; never tripping, never stumbling. It was as if the stones and grasses themselves moved on their own accord to accommodate her passing.

Upon reaching the door, Ambrosia knocked firmly but gently three times. Finally realizing that either no one was home or they had no intention of opening the door, she called out.

¡°H-hello? Is anyone home?¡±

Ambrosia waited patiently, the silence seemed almost oppressive.

¡°May I come in?¡± she inquired.

Receiving no response as she had expected, she gently shoved open the small door, and shyly entered the unknown domain. To her surprise the place was rather homely. A bright cheery fire blazed in the banked of which were two high back chairs, woven of some marsh wheat stalk material. To one side resided a table; the legs supporting it were of intricately carved wood. But, the top was woven of the same materials the chairs were made of, the same strange nameless swamp straw. Carefully she stepped into the tiny house and began to explore. The table structure she supposed could also be used as a bed too. As far as she could tell there were no extra rooms attached to the small dwelling. Although in the end what intrigued her the most was the mantelpiece. Placed carefully upon it were items she remembered from her childhood. A complex iron frame picture of her family in happier times, before the divorce, before she had closed herself off from the rest of the world; was set in the middle of it all.

This picture... she hadn't seen it in years. Not since her mother had insisted on throwing everything that reminded her of the gruesome separation out. Fingers shaking, she cautiously picked up the image as though it were the most fragile of glass. Silently she sank down to the ground before the fire and held back a sob. What was this place? She looked around again; tears welled up in her eyes. Furious with herself she blinked them back, calling forth every ounce of self-restraint she had left. Reluctantly she got to her feet again and looked over the mantelpiece. Everything displayed there was from happier times: a small bear she hadn¡¯t seen in years (probably packed up somewhere in the garage), a porcelain unicorn from when she still believed in magic, a fluffy dog that had been a gift from her father on her tenth birthday. She smiled at the memory then frowned when she remembered her mother¡¯s reaction to the toy. Her mother had grabbed it and thrown it in the trash¡­ that was the last memory she had of the toy. Gingerly she reached for it. It was so soft; hugging it close she continued to look over her former belongings.

She wasn't quite sure when, but before long she curled up and fell asleep in one of the high backed chairs. When she awoke the sun was descending over the horizon. Rapidly she sat up straight; the light blanket covering her fell to the floor. Wait... What blanket? She didn¡¯t remember a blanket... In the fading light she tenderly picked up the cloth, it donned a picture of a duckling and bear cub playing in harmony with a puddle between them. In one discrete corner were the initials A.M.W.

¡°Ambrosia Marie Wilouski,¡± she whispered to herself. Lovingly she fingered the stitches, they were far from perfect, rather haphazard to tell the truth, but it was another happy memory of the days before... when things were simpler.

¡°I see you¡¯ve made yourself at home,¡± a kind voice said.

Ambrosia looked up startled dropping the blanket. Quickly her eyes focused on the only other living being in the room. He was the unicorn that had come to her.

¡°You!¡± she breathed.

¡°Yes, it is I,¡± he replied calmly.

¡°Where is this place? What am I doing here?¡± she inquired, sliding as gracefully as she could out of the chair.

¡°This place is a place of healing. I have brought you here to allow you time to heal,¡± the creature explained calmly.

¡°A place of healing?¡±

¡°Yes.¡±

¡°Then... then why are there so many memories of the past here?¡± Ambrosia was on the verge of tears as she asked.

¡°Because you must first face your past before you can move on to the future,¡± the unicorn inclined his head humbly.

¡°That is why I hid it away... my past. I don¡¯t want to face it!¡± the usually silent girl yelled frantically at the Helping Hand. Then more quietly she added, ¡°I don¡¯t know how to face it.¡±

¡°It is not truly your choice you must... sooner... or later...¡± the unicorn replied, he spoke in a composed manner. He radiated and air of tranquility and peace.

¡°But... I do not want to...¡±

¡°I will be here to help you, every step of the way. All you need to do is call me and I will be here.¡±

¡°How can I call you if I do not know your name... And... Why... Why are you doing this for me?¡±

¡°You shall know how to call me when you need me... And I am doing this because I care... I have observed you from a distance on many occasions. I have seen the kindness, which you show to all creatures Great and small... I can also see that you are in pain and a being as gentle as you should bear no such pain...¡± with that last dwindling thought the striking equine disappeared, dematerializing into thin air. He left no evidence behind but a bauble of light.

Somewhat relived Ambrosia turned back to the chair and sank down into it, staring thoughtfully into the fireplace, one arm still wrapped around the small stuffed dog...

The man stepped into the waiting room and scanned the room for the mother of the teen he had just examined. The one who had come in on account of the fact that her daughter would not wake up. He spotted her; she was quite a thin woman, appearing almost malnourished. Her darker Asian complexion a little flushed. As she fretted, tossing a small stress ball from one hand to another. He approached her.

Ambrosia¡¯s mother stood abruptly as she spotted the physician approaching her. Quickly tucking the small ball into her purse she cleaned up her appearance a best she could.

¡°Doctor? How is my daughter? Is she going to be alright?¡± the fervent woman asked.

¡°What happened?¡± the man inquired curiously.

¡°I woke up this morning and went to wake her up for school. But, she wouldn¡¯t wake up!¡± the scared woman explained in a rush.

The man heaved a sigh and shook his head in a disbelieving manner. He looked down at the charts he had just drawn up on the girl.

¡°I¡¯m sorry Ms. Wilouski but it seems that your daughter has gone into a coma-¡± the man didn¡¯t get a chance to finish his sentence.

¡°No...¡± the normally tanned woman paled, her coloring turned an ugly yellow. Tears began to stream down her face.¡°Please... no...¡±

¡°At the moment,¡± he paused, ¡°there seems to be nothing we can do about it. It¡¯s up to her to come out of it....¡±