"Paradise" by Emilie Aurora Finn

Once upon a time, far, far away, there was a green, green hill covered with daisies. This hill was the most beautiful place in the world. In the daytime the sun bathed it with golden rays. At night darkness covered it like a blanket. And after a rainstorm a beautiful rainbow could be seen just touching the uppermost branches of the apple tree that grew atop the hill.

Amidst all this beauty lived a small girl. Her skin was as brown as the earth, her hair as gold as the sun, her eyes were green as grass, and her cheeks were as red as the apples that grew on the apple tree. She wore a simple white cotton dress, and her feet were bare. She called herself Nyah, and she was queen of her small hill and all that grew upon it.

Nyah was very happy. On sunny days she could make daisy chains, or climb her apple tree and eat apples, or do handstands in the soft grass. Or, if she felt adventurous, she would run down her hill and into the forest to a certain spot where she knew blackberries grew, or where wild roses bloomed, or she would swim in the little pond at the forest’s edge.

But at dusk, when the crickets began to chirp, and the nightingale started singing, Nyah would hurry home, her arms full of flowers and her lips and fingers stained red with blackberry juice. She would reach her beautiful hill just as night fell, and she would curl up under her apple tree and drift off to sleep, lulled by the soft hooting of owls and the far off howling of wolves.

Nyah loved rain as much as she loved sun. She loved the soft misty drops that made everything look hazy and unreal. And if you looked the right way, you could see tiny rainbows surrounding everything. And then there were the thunderstorms! The rumbling, crashing thunder like many drums, and the rain pelting down so hard that sometimes it stung, and Nyah had to crawl up into the arms of her apple tree and feel the wind sway the branches. And Nyah felt safe, because the apple tree was her friend.

*     *     *

One day, after a night of rain and thunder, Nyah awoke in  her apple tree. The hill was bathed in gold, and there was a splendid rainbow stretching like a heavenly bridge across the sky. It was a lovely morning, yet Nyah felt uneasy. She slipped out of her tree, not even bothering to shake the rain from her hair, and looked out over the forest from her hilltop. No snakes, no bears, no wolves. She saw nothing to cause her uneasiness.

Oh, well. It was gone now. Nyah surveyed her kingdom once more, thinking how beautiful it was. Then she shook the water from her hair, took off her dripping dress and hung it on a branch to dry, and, singing, climbed up her tree to eat the biggest, reddest apple she could find. The day stretched out before her joyously. Should she go down to the gnarly old tree in the middle of the forest and scare herself by imagining it was haunted? Or should she go swimming in the pond? No! She would make clothes out of the reeds by the pond, and necklaces out of daisies, and play fairy queen! Aglow with this idea, Nyah slipped out of her tree and raced down to the pond.

Nyah spent an industrious morning pulling reeds and weaving them to form a small skirt and shirt. Then she donned these and skipped back up her hill to make a necklace, bracelets, anklets, a belt and a crown out of daisies. She put them all on and was about to climb up to her throne in the apple tree when she heard a sound behind her. Nyah jumped, and all her forgotten uneasiness of the early morning returned....

*    *     *

He had been watching her for quite some time. He had seen her dance up the hill in that ridiculous grass dress. She had sat down with her back to him and begun to make daisy chains. As he watched the small, brown girl with her golden hair shining in the sun, he was loath to spoil the picture. He was about to turn and go when a twig snapped under his foot.

Nyah looked at the intruder in surprise. Somehow this fat, bald man in his suit and tie did not belong here. He belonged -- well -- somewhere else. Surely, though, he was nothing to be frightened of. Perhaps he was lost.

He smiled rather sheepishly. “Hi there, my name’s Fred.”

Nyah smiled back. “I’m Nyah. Won’t you come in?” And with all the graciousness of a queen, Nyah took his coat and hung it on a tree branch. Then she took out a small braided mat. “Won’t you have a seat?” she asked politely, setting it on the ground.

“Thank you,” said Fred, his eyes twinkling. “Quite a nice place you have here,” he added.

“Oh, yes!” Nyah exclaimed. “It’s perfect!”

Fred chuckled and sat down rather laboriously on the small mat.

“Would you like an apple?” asked Nyah.

“Well, sure, that would be just fine.”

While Nyah scrambled up the tree, Fred took something out of his coat pocket. “Fair’s fair,” he said as Nyah handed him an apple. “This is for you.”

Nyah eyed it dubiously. What was she supposed to do with this flat, shiny thing?

“Well, don’t you want to taste it?” laughed Fred. “Unwrap it and try it.”

Oh! It was something to eat. She held it out to him. “You unwrap it,” she said.

Fred chucklingly did so, and handed it back to Nyah. She looked at it curiously. It looked suspiciously like dried mud. Did some people eat mud? She took a small bite. It didn’t taste like mud! It tasted wonderful! She took another bite, then another.

Fred laughed. “Like it?” he asked.

“Oh, yes! Please, what it called?”

“That’s chocolate. Oh, look at the time. I must be off. Thanks for the apple, kid. Best apple I’ve had in a long time...” And Fred waddled down the hill and disappeared into the forest. In a day or so he had forgotten all about Nyah and the apple.

*     *     *

Nyah gobbled up the rest of her chocolate and tossed the wrapper on the ground. Now what to do? Her dress was dry, so she discarded the reeds and daisy chains and slipped her dress on. The wrapper glittering on the ground caught her eye, and some of her uneasiness returned. It didn’t belong there any more than Fred had belonged on her hill. She picked it up and thrust it into her pocket, along with two very nice stones, a dozen apple seeds, two sticks and a puzzle made from pine tree bark.

I wonder where Fred came from? thought Nyah. If I spend all afternoon walking in the direction he went, maybe I’ll see where he lives. Fairy queens, blackberries and a swim in the pond lost their charms beside this intriguing new idea. She had never before considered what might be beyond the forest.

So Nyah began walking. The sun had set when she reached the far edge of the forest. There, yellow against the horizon and gray with smog, was the city. Nyah knew instinctively that this was where Fred lived. He belonged there. She took the chocolate wrapper from her pocket and stared at it for a long moment. Somehow it seemed that she ought to take it back where it belonged -- into the city. But then she thrust it back into her pocket. She must go back. She did not dare stay out past dark, and besides, she was hungry. But not, somehow, for an apple.

*     *     *

The next day Nyah awoke later than usual. I wonder if Fred will come today? she thought as she picked an apple for breakfast. She bit into the apple, then tossed it away. It tasted bitter, and anyhow, she wasn’t hungry. Nyah hung around the tree all morning. Funny, she’d never realized how boring it was here. She pulled the wrapper from her pocket and looked at it. Then she walked off through the forest toward the city.

And that became the pattern every day. Nyah would wake up late, hang around the hill all morning, half hoping Fred would come back, then walk through the forest toward the city. Every day she went a little further, and every night she came back a little later, until one night she didn’t come back at all.

*      *      *

Twenty years later, a sad, bent old man sat on his porch. He was thinking of his wife, who had died two years ago. They had been very happy together, and with her gone even the sun on the south porch seemed dimmer and less warm. Fred was alone.

A picture formed itself in his mind. A hill, covered with green, green grass. On top of the hill grew an apple tree with the biggest, reddest apples he had ever seen. A small girl was sitting under the tree making daisy chains.

Fred slowly stood up. He would go find the hill. An apple sounded good right now.

*     *     *

Nyah Johnston brushed a string of her golden hair from her face. Ashley had missed the bus again today, and Jerry had refused to get out of bed, so she had had to drive them both to school. Then the Marksons had called and said they were coming from Seattle to visit, so Nyah had to hurry and clean the house before she made lunch for Bill when he came home from the morning shift at the mill.

She sank down onto the couch and reached for a box of chocolate. Then she shook her head and put it back. She had always loved chocolate, but it was so bad for her.

She stood up. The Marksons were coming at three. She had a half an hour to shower and change before she had to pick the kids up from school. Nyah sighed. Life hadn’t always been like this, had it?

In her mind’s eye Nyah saw a green hill covered with daisies, and an apple tree on top. In the apple tree sat an old man in a white cotton suit, eating an apple. And she knew that he saw her, too....

“Nonsense!” said Nyah, and stepped into the shower.

“Nonsense,” said Fred, and took another bite of his apple.

~finis~