There was a time when our hearts lived outside of our bodies, connected by fine, luminous, golden cords that gave them freedom to move, soaring above our heads or hiding beneath our feet.
During this time, in a countryside filled with peach tress perfect for sitting in and fields of yellow grass filled with butterflies, lived a father and his little girl, Amber. Although she had no mother Amber had never wanted for love; her father had poured it into her from the day she was born, and as she spoke with her Heart more than most people, she never felt lonely.
Amber lay on her back, yellow stalks stretching up around her face, the heavy seeded tops of the grass gently switching back and forth whenever she shifted.
“Stay still Amber, we’ll never see them if you keep moving,” said Amber’s Heart, who was busy floating at the tops of the stems. The golden cords that connected them glinted in the streaks of afternoon light.
“Sorry Little Heart, “ whispered Amber, ignoring the scratches she became as still as stone.
A minute later the first appeared, its vibrant blue butterfly wings lazily flitting against the sky. Soon to follow was a red as small as a thumbnail, then three orange and blacks, and a group of whites. Each lifting and dropping on miniature updrafts, as they filled the pocket of sky above Amber and her Heart with a soft rainbow of color.
“No!” cried Amber, sitting up abruptly as her Heart plummeted to her stomach. Gazing down at her Heart, Amber asked, “What was that Little Heart? What was that pain?”
“I am not sure. To the house! Quickly to the house!” Without another word the Heart and the strawberry blonde girl raced back across the field; scattered butterflies batting their wings unnoticed.
Amber’s Heart was pounding as quickly as her feet. Into the kitchen they flew, next the lounge, next the sunroom; it was on the stairs they saw his crumpled figure.
“Dad? DAD!” He was gone.
At 17, two years after her father’s death, Amber and her Heart were once again lying in the field looking at the cornflower sky through a frame of yellow grass.
“Amber,” started her Little Heart, “I have held you in your grief, but this is not our life. Hearts wither without joy and discovery…”
“…we need to leave,” finished Amber. “ I know, Little Heart. I will listen to you now and for always. Our life has many more places to see than this one.”
Her Heart rested on her sleeve as she looked back at the house and field for the final time. Amber imagined she could already see the roses and ivy tangling around its neglected walls, the flowers and vegetables battling for soil in unkempt beds.
“I am sad Little Heart.”
“It is OK to be sad, for I hold hope.”
The first car that passed them on the long walk to the city pulled over. Poking his head out of the window, a young man with dark features shouted to them,
“Can I give you a lift anywhere?”
As she climbed into the front seat, pushing her red suitcase into the foot-well; Amber looked for his heart, It must be in his pocket, she thought.
Arriving in the city Christian, for this was the young man’s name, glanced at her,
“Where would you like me to drop you Amber?”
“Ummm…anywhere is fine…maybe near a hostel.”
“OK.”
Christian soon pulled up outside a rickety, rotting, building. Five stories high and already covered in shadows at three in the afternoon. Amber did not move.
“You’re new to the city right?” said Christian, turning in his seat to face her.
Amber nodded, still gazing at the building that loomed beside her window.
“Why don’t you come and stay with me for a couple of nights?”
Amber took the handle of her red suitcase.
“It’s fine if you don’t want to, but I have a spare room you can stay in. It would give you a chance to get your bearings around the city.” Turning to Christian Amber studied him; neither the building outside nor the stranger beside her filled her with comfort. If only I could see his heart, she thought, I might be able to tell if he’s trustworthy. She gently prodded her own Heart to ask it’s opinion, but it was sound asleep in her pocket, my decision then I guess.
Christian’s house was a dusty yellow color that reminded Amber of the fields behind her old home. There was a white door in front and a glass wall opening from the kitchen to a huge garden in the back. In one corner of the yard a wooden gate interrupted the high fence, connecting the garden to a beautiful park. In the other corner hid a small green shed.
“There is plenty of food in the fridge, help yourself. You must treat this like your home. I’ll get you some towels.” Almost as an afterthought Christian added, “Just don’t go too close to the shed.”
“Why? Is it filled with gold?”
“No, no…I’ve seen mice out there so I put out some baits. I wouldn’t want you to get sick from them, that’s all.” Christian smiled.
“Of course,” said Amber, her face scrunching up perplexed. Shaking of her confusion she smiled in return, “I think I’ll have a shower and go to bed now. I’m quite tired. Thank you for letting me stay.”
“You must be exhausted! From what you were saying in the car it has been a day of changes for you. Let me get you those towels.”
Long after Amber had gone to sleep, Christian sat in a chair staring through the glass wall out at the night. He looked down at his hands, watching the moonlight glint off the withered heart he held in his palms,
“Useless heart, just like the other five, withered and dying. What do you have to say for yourself?” The heart could barely squeak, it was so dried and hurt. “No matter. This one, this one she’s different, I can feel it. Can’t you?” but he was no longer speaking to the heart in his hands. “Her heart is strong. It will be strong enough for me.”
Waking up the next morning Amber dressed and shyly entered the kitchen, to see Christian leaning over the stove.
“Morning. That smells wonderful.”
“Hello. I trust you slept well. Yes, nothing quite like the smell of bacon and coffee in the morning to get the stomach growling.”
He dished up a large plate of crispy bacon, toast with butter and a mug of steaming fresh coffee. Sliding it across the kitchen island to stop in front of Amber, just as she sat on one of the high stools that ran along the bench.
“Do you take milk? Sugar? I wasn’t sure so it has neither.”
“Black is perfect. Thank you,” said Amber, taking a large mouthful. She put the mug down and picked up a piece of toast.
“You’re not eating?” she asked.
“No. Sadly I have an errand to do this morning.”
“Oh, you’re going into the city?” she stood up taking another hurried mouthful of coffee, “If you give me a minute I’ll come with you. It will give me a chance to look around.”
“NO!”
Amber thumped back into the chair.
“OK. It was just a thought. I can walk in, I’m sure.”
“No. Sorry, it’s just this errand has me a little stressed. I’ll only be gone a couple of hours. You have a lazy breakfast and I’ll take you on a tour of the city when I get back.”
“Alright…that sounds nice.” Amber smiled briefly, then turning her eyes back to breakfast she busily began to pick at the edges of her toast.
After she heard the car door slam and the engine roar. Amber took her Heart from her pocket and rested it on her shoulder.
“What do you make of that?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe it is just the errand making him stressed as he said.”
“Hmph,” muttered Amber, standing and wandering over to the glass wall. She stood for a moment looking out into the garden, coffee in one hand, a piece of toast in the other. Her eyes came to rest on the green shed trying to hide at the back of the garden.
“It was funny, what he said last night about the shed.” She took another bite of toast, gazing at the shed for another minute. “Nope. It’s no good pretending, I’ve got to have a look for myself.”
Glancing at the clock she put down her coffee, finished the toast and said, “OK Little Heart, if he didn’t lie, we have just under two hours. Let’s see what we can find.”
Nervously standing in front of the shed Amber stretched out her hand to touch the rough wood, up close the paint was dusty and peeling. A shadow from a neighbor’s tree fell across its roof, making it feel cold after the warmth of the spring sun.
“It looks so sad, Little Heart, like no one has loved it in years.”
Softly she pushed the door it swung noiselessly inwards. Creeping inside she said out loud, “Come on Little Heart, or we’ll run out of time,” as much to keep herself brave as anything else. Inside she took a brick from the floor to prop open the door then began to look around.
To her left was a workbench, “Like the one in the potting shed at home,” she mused. In front of her was a second door, “In an orderly fashion Little Heart. First this room, then the next.” She began to sift through the items on the bench, her Heart hovering over her head.
“I wonder why Christian didn’t want me in here. I don’t see any poison, or mice for that matter.”
“What strange things to keep in a potting shed Heart: a darning needle and gold thread? What is in this pestle and mortar? I feel drowsy just smelling it.”
“Surely this silver knife doesn’t belong out here. I’ll take it in so it doesn’t tarnish.” As her fingers brushed the surface of the knife she jumped back as if bitten. “OH! Oh, Little Heart, there is something evil about that knife. The blade felt like fire with teeth. It was like a thousand screams went through my fingers. And look, it burnt me!” She shook her singed fingers in the air, “Something is not right here Little Heart.”
Turning away from the bench and the glinting silver knife, Amber swung open the second door, stepping over the sill before she or her Heart could hesitate. “OOOHHH, ooohhh,” crumpling to her knees, Amber’s hands rose to cover her mouth. The door swung shut behind her, causing streaks of darkness to fall across the scene before her eyes. After long minutes of shaky silence, Amber wiped away her tears, “It’s horrible,” she whispered.
On benches around her sat six rat cages. One was empty, but in the other five lay, not rats, but cracked, withered, darkened hearts. Their sorrow and hopelessness filled the room. Standing quickly Amber pushed open the door, gulping in the fresh air and sunlight.
Facing the hearts again she said, “You sad little ones, how could this have happened? I must let you out.” She opened the cages, carrying each heart out of the oppressive dark room into the light of the garden. A little color returned to their darkened forms as the sun began filling them with warmth.
“Amber we must leave this place before Christian returns,” stated her own Little Heart.
“Yes Little Heart. I will listen to you now and for always. But we cannot leave them here, they will have to come too.” Running back to the house Amber grabbed her red suitcase, glancing at the clock, “Only an hour before he returns.”
Gently she packed the hearts into her case. Securing the clasps, she wrapped her fingers around the handle.
“To the park,” said her Heart.
Amber swung open the gate.
“Grrrrrrr,” a dark head filled with bared yellowed fangs filled the opening. “Grrrrrrrrr,” rumbled through Amber’s body, rattling her right down to her feet. Slowly stepping back, she closed the gate, hooked the latch and reversed towards the shed, the growl still echoing around her skull.
Huddled against the shed she whispered, “Little Heart?”
“I don’t know. It felt like a wave of despair,” replied her Heart as it sat trembling against her chest.
Amber absently opened her suitcase,
“…it didn’t work….”
“…I was sure it would...”
“…they are too strong…”
“…we are lost…”
“…we will die here…”
“Hello?” cried Amber, surprised out of her shock by the jumble of whispery voices coming from the withered hearts in her red suitcase. “Can you tell me what that was?”
“…a Dark Wolf…”
“…they are always there…”
“…can’t get past them…”
“…keeps everyone here…”
“…until he’s done his work. Then they walk past with not a problem…”
“…because they don’t have us…”
“…yes. They don’t have us…”
“I do not understand?” Amber murmured, “Where are your bodies? Why were you in those cages?”
“…we will tell you, but we will have to hurry. I feel him returning already…”
“…yes, must hurry…”
The withered hearts told a tale of a dark and twisted man, a man who had lost his own heart long ago because he did not know how to show it love. Trying to fill the emptiness that had been left, the man began to steal the hearts of the loving and the young. But each stolen heart would soon wither and his emptiness return. Each time this happened he would bring another woman to his house. He would make her comfortable, build her trust and then on the third night, he would take the silver knife and sever the cords that held her heart to her body. With golden thread he would stitch it to his own, lastly locking the old, dying heart in a cage so no one would see his failures.
“But that would never work,” said Amber. “A heart cannot be held by force, it will die without its freedom. “
“Yes,” replied her Heart.
“…yes, yes…” sighed the five other hearts.
“Where are your bodies though?”
“…after he has taken the heart, the mind is still aware…”
“…the body and the mind start to fight…”
“…trying to take back the heart… “
“…he gives them a sleeping draught… “
“…takes them away…”
”…we don’t know where…”
“And the Dark Wolves?” asked Amber, struggling to follow the disjointed voices of the hearts.
“…there are six. Created from his fear…”
“…his self-loathing…”
“…his hopelessness…”
“…sorrow…”
”…anger…”
“…despair…”
“…they prowl the boundaries of this fence…”
“…he is coming! Quickly you must put us back...”
“…hurry!”
“…yes. HURRY!”
Amber sat on the edge of her mattress. The five hearts were back in their cages. Her suitcase was back under the bed. Her heart was hovering around her throat.
“I’m scared, Little Heart. I do not want to lose you. What do we do?”
“Nor I you. Tonight we must try to escape without the other hearts. Maybe the Dark Wolves will let us pass.”
“It makes me sad to leave them, but I will listen to you, now and for always Little Heart.”
The afternoon and early evening rolled by, Christian played the good host, gently building her trust. After dinner, Amber begged tiredness and shut herself in her room. At midnight she crept out of bed, dressing warmly.
Quiet as a cat, she padded through the house, keeping close to the walls, then slid through the glass doors into the night-soaked garden. She did not notice Christian sitting in the shadows watching her leave, a knowing smile splitting his face.
Pausing, she glanced sadly at the green shed, then continued on. As she reached the gate, she pushed her Heart deep into her coat, steeling herself. She swung open the gate and stepped through in one fluid movement. Immediately her Heart contracted. Fear drove her back to the gate, but it had closed behind her, she could not find the latch. The Wolves’ dark breath grazed her skin, a metallic smell filling her nostrils. She scrambled desperately, scraping her fingers against the unforgiving wood, fear overpowering her logic and making her clumsy. Suddenly a hand grabbed her shoulder, wrenching her through the air, back into the garden. The gate clanked shut. Frightened, she turned towards her savior, burying herself in his arms. “Shhhh, it’s OK now. What are you doing out here?” Christian’s voice was warm in her hair, but his eyes were cold. Trembling, her words spilt out, “I, I…I wanted to see the moon in the park. It is so beautiful and I was thinking of my father. We used to sit outside in the field and watch the moon at night. But, but there was a Wolf outside the gate.”
“A wolf?” he laughed, leading her back to the house, “I don’t know about a wolf, but I’ve heard there are wild dogs that roam the park at night. It is not a safe place to go. You were lucky I was there.”
Christian sat by her bed as Amber fell into a restless sleep. He sighed looking at her beauty, “I am sorry for what I will do. I wish I had not met you.” He kissed her gently and walked out of the room.
Christian was gone when Amber woke on the morning of the third night. She found a note on the fridge, ‘Out all morning. Help yourself to breakfast. I will bring a picnic for the afternoon.’ She wandered into the garden with a coffee in her hand,
“Little Heart, this could be the last day we are together. What would you like to do?”
“Sit in the sun and laugh like we used to.”
“I think I’ll get the other hearts as well. It will do them good to feel the sun.”
She gathered the hearts one by one, setting them on a blanket she’d found in the house. They talked and laughed and made believe they were free. Amber told them about the yellow field with the rainbow butterflies. They told Amber of mist-covered mountains, of water so big you could never swim across it, of floating on clouds to cities made of stardust. All the places they had lived before coming here.
As they talked, as Amber listened, as the sun shone and laughter rang, the withered hearts began to swell and heal. They did not start to glow as Amber’s own did, but the love and joy pouring into them was mending them little by little.
“…it is getting late…”
“…yes, late…”
“It is the third day hearts, I will not see you again. Take care of my own when I have gone”
The five withered hearts had been reminded of love, they did not want to go back to the cages to die.
“…if you promise to take us with you, we can help you get away…”
“How?”
“…first you have to promise not to leave us…”
“I will not leave you.” Amber said, “I promise.”
“…sleeping draught…”
“…make a sleeping draught for him…”
“…he will fall asleep…”
“…deep asleep…”
“…you escape!..”
“…but not without us…”
“…no, not without us…”
“And the Dark Wolves?” asked Amber.
“…they are a part of him…”
“…if he sleeps they must as well…”
The hearts were not sure this was true, but if Amber did not try, all of them would die.
Under the instruction of the five hearts and with the encouragement of her own, Amber made a strong sleeping draught for Christian.
“But how do I get him to drink it?” Amber asked, as she was placing the hearts back in their cages.
“…we don’t know…”
”…you will find a way…”
“…do not forget to come back for us…”
Amber shut the shed door, leaving them to wait.
Night collapsed over the little red house with the dusty yellow door and high fence. Full from a late picnic, Christian and Amber sat in the room with the glass door. As they looked at each other, both felt saddened by what they were about to do. Finally, Christian sighed and pushed himself from his chair,
“Wait here, I have something for you.”
Amber watched him walk slowly to the garden shed and go inside.
“I am sad Little Heart of mine,” cried Amber, looking down at the Heart on her sleeve. “I do not want to hurt this man.”
“It is he who wants to hurt you remember. You must give him the draught.”
“Yes, Little Heart. I will listen to you now and for always.”
Christian returned with his hands behind his back and a sorrow in his eyes.
“Amber?”
“Yes, Christian?” she responded, just as sadly.
“Close your eyes. I have something for you.”
He towered over her, the silver knife poised to cut the golden threads that bound Amber too her Heart. Watching her face, her closed eyes, her soft mouth, Christian’s resolve wavered.
Amber opened her eyes.
“You will take my Heart.”
“Yes.”
Taking a deep breath to settle her nerves Amber said, “Grant me one last favor and I will give it to you freely.”
Christian was unsure; none of the others had wanted a favor.
“What is it you ask?”
“To share a glass of wine with you.”
“I have never tasted wine,” continued Amber, “Drink with me and I will give you my Heart.”
Taking her chance as Christian hesitated. Amber slid out from under the knife. In the kitchen, she put her Heart in her pocket to hide its racing beat. Keeping her back to Christian, she poured two large glasses, adding the sleeping draught to one.
Amber did her best to smile, taking a large sip from the glass in her hand. Christian did not drink. Amber’s Heart beat anxiously in her pocket, “I was always told it is a bad thing to drink alone.”
Christian smiled. He took a large mouthful and settled back into the seat. He stayed awake.
Amber sighed, the wine was finished. It had not worked. Gently, she took her Heart from her pocket and kissed it lightly. Casting her eyes down she held her trembling Heart out to Christian, as she had promised she would.
Thirty seconds passed and she was still holding her Heart. Looking up, she saw Christian fast asleep, his head lolling to the right. She jumped in joy, her Heart almost hitting the ceiling she threw it with such force.
“Quickly now Amber, let us leave before he wakes up!”
But Amber didn’t move, in fact she sat beside Christian, pulling the cracked and darkened heart from his pocket. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she saw this man with all his pain in front of her.
“Little Heart of mine, you have blessed me with your love my whole life. You taught me how to care for you and in return you gave me joy and fullness. We can not leave him like this, his heart died.”
“Because he did not know how to love Amber. He has killed seven hearts because he did not know how to love.”
“You could teach him how to love.”
“…it is possible.”
“Please Little Heart, if we can help him then we must. If I split you in two, half for me and half for him. That will surely be enough for us both.”
“I will do what you say Amber, now and for always.”
Amber took the little silver knife; ignoring the pain as it ate into her skin, she quickly cut her Heart in two. With one of her own golden cords, she stitched one half to Christian. Lastly she cut his old heart free, putting it safely in her pocket.
“Good-bye Little Heart of mine, I will love you now and for always,” said Amber swallowing back her tears as she turned away.
Picking up her little red suitcase, Amber hurried to the shed and collected the remaining hearts from their cages.
“…your hand, Amber, you have burnt your hand…”
“Yes,” replied Amber as she hurriedly packed them in the case.
Standing before the gate Amber breathed deeply and swung it open. All the Dark Wolves were there, waiting; fear, self-loathing, hopelessness, sorrow, anger and despair. Amber froze; they were not asleep as the hearts had said they would be.
Silently the Dark Wolves watched as she boldly stepped through the gate. But they did not growl, they did not step forward. They knew that part of her was now a part of them.
Looking back, Amber said once more, “Goodbye Little Heart of mine. Make him feel love.”
Then she dissolved into the night, leaving the little red house with the dusty yellow door, the Dark Wolves, Christian, half of her Heart and half of her love behind.
Many hours later Christian woke, rubbing his eyes and stretching his legs, he called out, “Amber?”
“She is not here,” spoke the half of Little Heart.
Starting at the sound, Christian looked down to see the Heart sitting in his palms; a heart not withered or dying but filled with lightness and vibrancy.
“But I feel her here still,” Said Christian.
“Because I was a part of her, but now I am a part of you.”
“She left me her Heart? Why? You will just wither and die like the others.”
“She gave you half of her Heart out of love, Christian. I will not wither and die. I will become a whole Heart in you, just as my other half will become a whole Heart in her. But this will only happen if you listen to me always.”
Christian sat still for many minutes, feeling the beating Heart in his hand.
“You are afraid of the road ahead,” stated Little Heart.
“Yes,” said Christian, “I am afraid and angry and sad and so many other things.”
“But I hold hope Christian,” said Little Heart, “which means so do you.”
After another long pause, Christian’s face relaxed, “Yes, Little Heart of mine, I do.” Christian smiled, “I will listen to you now and always.”
END