THE LORELEI SIGNAL
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Written by Dana (Dragonlots) Bell / Artwork by Marge Simon
Chandra's Gift




























‘Merow’

I sat up in bed, my eyes darting around the fireplace lit room. The faint light flickered off the plain dirt walls
and nothing moved in my cottage. Quickly my hand darted to my side and upon finding it empty, I again
swallowed tears as they threatened to choke me. My small, long time companion was in truth gone.

Slowly I eased myself down upon the hard cot, pulling the coarse fabric over my chilled body. For one such as
myself, used to the best of what my world had to offer, living in such poverty was not something I relished.
However, with the death stalking the cities and byways, my being here was much safer.

A crackling from the fire drew my attention. Bright orange glowed in the embers below and a few yellow
flames flickered. Still, the chill of the night enclosed about me and uneasily I fell back to sleep.

With the morning came the full realization I was indeed, alone. Two small bowls still sat in their place of honor
next to the back door and I had not the heart to remove them. I began my daily routine by washing my face
and hands in the cold water from the well. I dried them with my kerchief, one of the few luxuries I still had.

From the window looking out over the sharp white cliffs, I could see Fall had peaked and the first touches of
Winter had begun to enshroud the land. Rusty leaves littered my small now empty garden space. Well, not
totally empty. A small mound sat to one side and I knew under the hard earth Chandra slumbered the sleep
from which none of us wake.

Tears threatened yet again and I angrily dashed them away. There was the morning porridge to cook, and
bread to bake, and a dozen other tasks that now made up my day. I used to take the presence of servants
for granted. Now I understood their hard life.

The sun crossed the sky as it did every day of my exile. I heard no hooves on the sparse cobble outside my
cottage nor even the cry of a falcon. At dusk I went to the small barn and fed my horse, wondering how I
would survive the long winter. I patted the soft long nose and again pondered the idea of freeing Levi for the
season. Perhaps he would live longer if he were free to range and graze. Or perhaps not. He had never
known any type of care except what had been given him.

Carefully I closed the barn door to return to the cottage. Several leaves danced under the wind’s direction
and clung to my long tattered skirts. I brushed at them hoping they would remain outside. I needed nothing
else to clean this day.

‘Merow.’

The cry caused me to stop in my tracks. My eyes found Chandra’s grave. None of the dirt was disturbed. The
wilted flowers I had placed there at the beginning of the Summer had not moved, despite the weather’s best
efforts.

“You’re just lonely,” I told myself. My voice sounded rusty from long non use. I had not spoken much since
death had taken my one companion.

I hurried back into my home. I tried to forget the haunting cry. I fried potatoes adding a touch of rosemary.  I
had dried the fragrant plant earlier in the week. The stone container holding the leaves sat upon a shelf with
all the others I had worked on. The rest of what I had harvested sat on high shelves out of the reach of
vermin. Chandra had kept their numbers low. Now I feared I might starve since I had seen beady red eyes
watching me from under the low branches of the trees. They would try to come in when the snow began to
fall.

Long did I sit by the fire in my only chair. In my lap rested the ancient book of the God I had been taught to
fear as a child.  As I read the familiar passages, I found not the terror of a vengeful, angry deity, but one of
compassion and love. It brought to mind the one question I had yet to discover an answer to.

“Where is Chandra? Is she in heaven with you?”

My whisper seemed to fill the room. Pops and sizzles replied. The drowsy heat filled my body and I put the
book aside to crawl under the meager covers of my bed. My eyes closed upon another day and opened when
a new one began. My routine was the same and so drifted the last of Fall into the cold and snow of Winter.  

I had taken to keeping the axe next to my bed and listening through the long dark nights for the scuttle of
tiny feet or something shifting on my shelves. How many of the rats I killed I do not know. I only know I
constantly wished Chandra was still with me to deal death to them.

The time of Yule approached and my thoughts constantly returned to the grand celebrations of my father’s
house. I would have none this year. My feast consisted of dried fruit and a meager potato.

Again I took my book and read the story I had heard all my life, the time of taxes and a couple riding to his
hometown, about the star, the wise men and the child born. When I finished I sat trying not to shiver for cold
had invaded and was so deep I seemed never to be warm.

‘Merow’.

I started awake unaware I had slept. My back and neck hurt from the angle forced upon them by the chair
back. The fire was dangerously low and I hastily added more fuel. I hoped the storm raging outside subsided
in the morning for I had great need to chop more. My failure to stock enough during the warm months now
cost me precious daylight I needed for other tasks.

Glancing around my cottage and I began to fear I was losing my sanity. How many times had I heard
Chandra’s cry? And why did I hear her when I knew she was dead and buried?

“Why, God?” I gasped out as tears once again flooded by cheeks. I jumped up as I felt a bit of fur brush my
ankle. “What?” Fearfully I looked down afraid to see a rat had crept upon me while I slept.

Instead I briefly saw the shadow of a proud brown and black tail and I knew to whom it belonged. My
thankful heart knew peace and acceptance of my companion’s loss. My tears changed from sadness to joy
and I accepted the gift I had been given.
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Dana Bell is a Colorado writer with a long standing love affair with
cats. They always appear in her stories either as main or supporting
characters. The death of her favorite Little One inspired 'Chandra's
Gift when, two days after the tabby died, she got to come back and
say a final good bye.

The author is currently working on two books, tutoring students, and
married with two resident felines, Maximillian and Sammy. Much of
her past work can be found at www.fanfiction.net/~ dragonlots. She
has a poem published in 'Tales of the Talisman' called 'Monster Drive'
and will have a story in the anthology, 'All About Eve' titled, 'A Cat's
Creation Tale'.