Crescent • A Twilight Story

What Happened First

My mother claimed to be a gypsy, so naturally we ran. We ran and never stopped and I accepted I would never belong anywhere.

Our VW van lurched to a stop as she jumped out with her Polaroid to snag a picture of the welcome sign. She hopped back in, still shaking the photo.

"Put this with the others, Rory." I took it from her, as we started to roll again. Unbuckling myself, I crawled to the back. Two twin mattresses squeezed in the space where seats were meant to be. A curtain made of a thrifted shower liner divided them, along with a tote for clothes.

Our only decoration was a laundry line, Polaroids of every town clipped in place with clothespins. A younger me stood in most of them, a wide smile brimming across sun-warmed cheeks. The spark of adventure bright in the corner of my eyes, still enchanted by the dazzle of our strange lifestyle.

"We're special, Rory. And being special requires us to live different from normal folk."

Glancing out the window, a wall of gray and mist greeted welcomed us in. Bracing the metal frame, a chill bit back. Las Vegas. Tallahassee. Charlotte. She always gravitated toward large cities with warmth and sunshine.

But a little reservation in Washington state?

I gave it a week. Tops.

Skidding to an abrupt halt, and I braced the backrest of my seat. We parked in what felt like the middle of a field, before a double wide. Rust dripped from the top of the yellowing sides, a large man sitting on the deck chewing jerky.

I followed her out, tucking my hands into the oversized sleeves of my sweater. With her thick draw and a wide smile, she greeted him with all the warmth this place lacked.

"Well hey there, sugar!" She opened her arms, expecting some sort of embrace.

"You're late." He grumbled, eyes narrowing past her to me.

"Alright then." Dropping her offer to embrace, she patted the sides of her pants. "Is there a place my daughter can go to stretch her legs?" The corner of his mouth twitched at the word daughter, the wind seeming to abate far back into the tree line. I longed for it to carry me away, grateful as the stranger jutted his chin toward a southward footpath.

"Beach down that way." Mom shooed me in the same direction, and I shook my head at the idiocy of it all. Yet another disapproving man, already hostile. Normally they put on a show for a day or two, but none of the strangers she attracted ever liked the idea of their vivacious red headed conquest having a daughter.

I glanced back as I trudged down the grass worn trail, they were already in a hushed argument. Whoever he was, whatever this was, I hoped it didn't end as badly as it was starting.

Across a great stretch of field and past a thicket, the roar of waves quickly greeted me. The heels of my boots dug into the damp sand, damp from the rains I imagined were a near constant.

Groups scattered across the shore with only a few who looked like me, but most with warm complexions and dark hair.

Driftwood littered the sands, twisting in mysterious shapes. A fallen tree laid massive and bare, it's roots curling every which way. Its center was almost cave like, as if one might crawl in and discover a new land.

A cluster of girls in shorts and hoodies took turns posing at the mouth, taking carefully orchestrated photos.

Several braved the waters, surfboards under arm. Beyond them, an island shaped like a sinking kingdom. It was crowned thick with pines, the green a deep, dark emerald against a pale gray sky.

I headed away from the crowd, taking seat on a half-buried boulder. My eyes closed as inhaled deeply, the salty air a fresh balm to my aching bones. As the rhythmic waves curled against the shoreline, worry sloshed within me.