Chapter One: Anticipatory Dread

On September 2nd, 1945, the Second Great War had finally come to an end. Soldiers returned to their families, and everyone ‌celebrated the soldiers' return, well- 

                Almost everyone. 

     Aletta sat in the back seat on the left side of her mother’s black car. The seats were beige and still smelled of a brand-new car. A few bumps here and there as the car drove, but the rattling of the windows couldn’t compare to the nervous hammering in her chest. She looked out the dusty window of the car and kept her worries to herself. 

     Her mother, Doris, discerned how Aletta nervously twisted the laces on the neckpiece of her small, colorless dress- a nervous habit of Aletta’s she knew too well.

     “Aletta, you’re going to love your father. He has missed you very much. I hope you know that,” Doris soothed softly with care. 

     Aletta cognized momentarily upon her mother’s words before speaking, “But ‌it's been 6 years, and I don’t even remember him.” She sighed. 

      Her mother exhaled, her eyes glued to the road as she reached a sympathetic hand towards Aletta’s restless form. Her smooth hand caressed her knobby, scraped knee with a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Aletta thought her mother had gentle hands; she was always gentle. Her mother didn’t say a word for the rest of the drive. She didn’t need to. 

Her mother already knew how hard this must be…

And Aletta knew her mother already knew that, too. 

     Finally, the car came to a dreadful stop for her father, or a man who was to be known as her father. Aletta spotted a man marching confidently towards them, and even Doris subtly pointed at him. “That’s your father, Aletta. I want you to call him father.”

 But something wasn’t right. 

Aletta knew that the man who stepped into the car…

It wasn’t a father. 

It was some kind of monster. 

Aletta forced a smile as unease settled in her bones; she brushed the apprehension away, like an icy, bone-tingling sensation. A sensation that wouldn’t go away. 

   “¿Padre?” Aletta asked, after a gulp of apprehension that felt more like a confirmation that he was really her father than a greeting. Her mother began teaching her Spanish; it was her father’s fluent language, disappointingly his only fluent language. If she wanted to speak with him, she would have to learn it. The aggravating fact is that Aletta wasn’t close to being fluent at all. 

     The man crooked his head, revealing the side of his rough face, the face of war, “Muy bien, ¿ahora puedes contar hasta diez?” 

“Uno.” 

“Dos.” 

“Tres.”

“Catro-” 

     “Cuatro.” He started abruptly before turning his head away. 

She sank into her seat, wishing that the leather seats would swallow her whole, feeling every bit of embarrassment at her mishap. Moments before she twisted at the idea of a father she did not know coming into her life. But now, with her father within reach of her small, fragile fingers, she felt this need to seek validation. 

The feeling of seeking a parent’s love. 

A parent who isn’t there. 

Not today. 

Not yesterday.

Not tomorrow. 

A parent who’ll never be there and wasn't there to begin with. 

Somewhere beneath the aching need, she knew, she knew that he would never be a father. 

     Aletta wanted to believe that feeling was mistaken, but that night she would learn she was right. She knew from the shattering crashes that felt like lightning outside her bedroom door that her life would never be the same again. Not for anyone. The silent nights she knew so well drifted away, a goodbye never spoken that left within the multitude of sounds. 

 Many times, she heard yelling, not from her mother, but from the man on the other side of her door. To her ears alone, it reminded her of a lion. She’s never heard a lion’s roar before, but she wondered if the yelling could be heard from 5 miles away. 

     Her fear grew gradually like a flower for the man behind the door. She knew far better than to open that door. Fear can do two things: it can cut you down in your steps, or it can make you bloom into something more. As the house sounded like a million wars, she clutched ‌her blankets and steadied her fast-beating breath. Her dark, nearly black umber eyes kept glued beneath the door where light seeped through, watching for shadows approaching. As she remained paralyzed with watchful fear, she prayed for anything, anything but this.

Nothing came to save her as she had hoped dearly.

     Months had passed since the last time she could recognize what peace really felt like. Time went on like an endless river, and she was just barely breathing, gasping for small breaths even as the water pulled her down into its unforgiving depths of reality. 

     A river will never be completely safe for you to cross; you’ll never cross it unless you realize you have to build yourself a stronger raft.

     That is the closest thing to putting into words that she felt. The thought never came to her clearly, and if it did, it would be fleeting. Not because she wouldn’t care, but because she wouldn’t understand. How could she? She could barely grasp the concept of her life as it was now. 

     Her mother changed too, like the silence that before had peacefully lived within the walls of their home. Aletta was thankful that her mother possessed her kindness as usual, but she was increasingly quieter as time passed. A part of her mother drifted away with that silence. Aletta had little clue of what had left, but she missed it, like a person you’ve never met but only heard of within your mind. 

     The night proceeded as it had for some time. Aletta remained terrified, like all the other nights. Her eyes felt like lead from all the sleepless nights of paranoia, as much as she kept pushing on awake to confirm her mother was alright, she needed sleep. Making her way to the lamp to blow the light out, she heard a sudden thud against the wall. She would’ve mistaken it for the man again if it weren’t for the gap in the wall peeking out to her like a sore thumb. 

     Grabbing her lamp, she hovered the light over the gap, she noticed something that didn’t belong with the wall. She put the lamp down near her and grabbed one side of the wall and peeled enough to reach the unknown object that screamed at her curiosity. The wooden planks of the wall moaned as she yanked on them. She struggled momentarily before she nearly fell back. She caught herself before she lost all balance; she peeked around with her ears sharp for any sounds of oncoming footsteps. When hearing nothing but the usual fiasco sounds she could mentally label, she made her way back to the hole she had made. 

     Through some dust and aged cobwebs, she seized a rectangular object caked with years of dirt. The size made her move her grip on the object to hold it correctly without it feeling awkward in her small hands. She couldn’t make out what it was with all the dirt smothered over it, so she held it out in front of her and blew on it. Clouds of dust swayed away like storm clouds, just beforehand disappearing within the room.

     The book revealed leather-pressed labeling, ‘La Puerta De Entrada’. The Spanish title did little to help her since she couldn’t understand. Intrigued, she brought the mysterious book, along with her lamp, to her bed. She opened the book and placed it on her stomach as she read it. Squinting her eyes curiously, she attempted to read a few words, but when she tried, the words suddenly bled. 

Not with ink. 

Red. 

The red ink appeared first on a page above her stomach, before spreading across the blank page. It strangely looked like a flower, but then it kept bleeding…

     Aletta’s breathing quickened, her eyes darting left and right at the pages before shutting the bleeding book. That’s when she spotted a gap within the book; she opened it hesitantly, hoping it wasn’t the same page as before. To her luck, it wasn’t, but this time there was a miniature cloth wrapped around something, tied with fine twine. She undid the twine, finding something that to some may be beautiful, while others would find it hideous.    Without an opinion on the strange finding, she held it in the smooth palm of her hand. It looked like a praying mantis, but a dark green one, with patterns along its larger body than the usual mantis she was aware of. The antennae looked like fuzzy feathers; they were beautiful, and it was one of the first things she had taken in besides the size of the creature. It had a multitude of legs as well. 

     Aletta felt something within the cloth she had missed, a small rolled-up piece of paper. When rolled out, she could tell it was old by the smell of old pine and the edges frayed with time. This time she could read the context of the paper…

         ‘Put me in front of a mirror when the moon is at its 

                                        highest peak.’

With numerous questions running through her head, she decided she would do as the note said. She placed the insect, or whatever it was, into a jar for safety measures while checking the moon’s position. The moon beamed through the night clouds, casting a peaceful light downward; most importantly, it was directly in the middle of the sky. The moment she backed away from the mirror, leaving the jar alone, the creature inside twitched to life, creating small chittering sounds. Legs clicked against the glass as it crawled; clear wings buzzed out from behind, bug-like. It looked at her, tilting its head to the left while chittering once more.

     It looked harmless to Aletta; with careful movements, she screwed the lid off. The creature crawled out of the jar, gradually inching into view toward the girl. It stood on its smaller legs, while its raptorial legs were bent normally in front of it. 

“What are you?” The girl breathed with wonder. 

As if the creature could understand her, it tilted its head and chittered. It buzzed its way over to her closed window; with bewilderment, she saw the creature point outside the window. 

     Aletta was in the process of making her way over there before her bedroom door opened. A subtle gasp left her lips with panic, believing it was the man behind the door. It was her mother. 

“Aletta, what are you doing up this late?” Her mother whispered in a soft voice, to Aletta, her voice was as soft as the sound of rain. 

“I was just…” Aletta looked over to the window, realizing the creature was no longer there. Puzzlement showed deeply in her expression, and her mother urged her back to bed. Doris tucked her into her blankets, sighing ever so slightly. 

“I saw something, it had wings and-” Aletta began.

     Her mother exhaled deeply, “Aletta, tonight is not the time for stories, as much as I love them.” Her mother coughed into her hand suddenly. Aletta knitted her eyebrows together with worry, but she wasn’t able to question her mother in time. 

     “What am I going to do with you and these stories inside your head?” Her mother said with a soft smile that reached her tired eyes. Her mother caressed Aletta’s black hair. “You’re my little flower forever and ever.” 

Her mother had left soon after, but the questions remained in the young girl’s mind about the book, the bug creature, and the man behind the door.