Mia Harper Fairgrieve / 2024-10-01
The girl was born on an island called Krakiln. She swam in the ocean and collected shells that accumulated under her bed. The girl went to school on a sailboat, for she had to go all the way to the other side of Krakiln Island. The girl’s mother, a witch, had taught her to sail, to hunt, to use magik, and to understand that there are more valuable lessons than those taught in schools.
The girl’s mother had taught her everything she held dear to her heart and firm in her mind. The girl’s mother had taught her the names of traitors and heroes, animals and plants. When the girl was ready, her mother had taught her her own name. Mother passed the name her own mother had given her so long ago down to her daughter. “Chloe.”
Mother humbly asked if the girl would accept her name. The girl eagerly agreed. Young Chloe had read in her storybooks about a different Chloe, long ago, who strangled krakens and swam with sharks. All along, those stories had been about her mother. “All true!” Mother had said with a wink.
Chloe’s mother, now nameless, hurried to find a placeholder. She found “Krakiln” to her liking. The name she chose made the soil of the island and the flesh on her bones the very same.
Mother Krakiln taught her daughter that until you are old and wise, and can hardly be bothered by a flame in the hair or a hair in the soup, you shan’t be called a name someone else gives you. They are without knowledge, and believe they do have that power, but only you do.
As Chloe got older, and the girls her age became crueler, Krakiln’s words rang with truth.
“The girls at school call me ‘Ugly’.” Chloe despaired one evening.
“That is not your name.” Krakiln said sternly. “Tell me girl, what is your name?”
Silent tears ran down Chloe’s cheeks. Mother clucked with disapproval.
“Don’t go forgetting it, daughter. After the world ends and your corpse crumbles, your name will still belong to you.”
Chloe did not return to school. When she tried, the village girls, pelted her sailboat with stones. They crowed and jeered like vultures feasting on her misery.
“Here comes Ugly
Pick up your stones
Ugly girl lives with Ugly crone
Ugly hair and Ugly nose
Her first boyfriend will prick her with a rose
Here comes Ugly
Sharpen your knives
Ugly girl will be ugly wife!
Here comes Ugly
Light up the fire
Burn her, the witch!
Choke her with wire
Ugly, Ugly, Ugly!”
Fortunately, the wind picked up, blowing in a merciful direction, and Chloe was able to sail home, leaving the vultures in the distance.
Mother Krakiln was not impressed by the girls’ insults. She wiped the blood from Chloe’s cuts and administered some much needed advice.
“What are their names?”
Chloe sniffed. “Valentina. Elizabeth. Arabella. Darla.”
Mother Krakiln chuckled. “Such names! It’s absolutely splendid that you know them, Chloe, though you may dust them from your mind after tomorrow. You shan’t have any reason to hold onto them.”
“Mother… whatever do you mean?” Chloe watched as Krakiln bustled around their kitchen, plucking jars from shelves.
“I have an idea…A plan…” Krakiln muttered. “If you are truely my daughter, and the daughter of nature and this island, you too shall delight in it. They shall never call you ‘Ugly’ again.”
Leaving the kitchen without looking back to see if Chloe was following her, Krakiln murmured once more, “Such names! What frills! It shall be odd, seeing a vulture wearing frills!”
To be continued…