The Light of Day

The Light of Day

Deep in a forest, hidden from the morning light, lies a cave. It has been empty for a while, save for the occasional black bear. But the faded remnants of a woven straw garment and the crumpled remains of a bed made of vines indicate it was once home to a girl—a girl who was more beast than human. 

The girl was cursed, you see, never to see the light of day. That's why she was sent away. They say that when, as a baby, she was introduced to the Sun, her flesh began to peel right off her bones. Her parents tried every remedy they could think of, emptied their pockets to witch-doctors and alchemists, and still, she could not be cured of the strange ailment. The family traveled from town to town, seeking an answer that could not be found. Worse, word of mouth traveled faster than their feet could run. 

“A demon,” a villager would whisper to another, their gaze darkening day by day. “A she-devil.” 

Hopeless and afraid, the father set off into the trees one evening with the girl bundled tightly in his arms. He traveled two days and two nights, taking care to shield the child from the light, until he came across the maw of a cave. After tucking the baby away in the dark, the father fell to his knees and prayed to all the saints he could name for forgiveness. Shoulders slumped, he left without daring to look back. 

The girl grew up a creature of the night, learning quickly that she was never meant to see the light. In an act of mercy, the she-wolves cared for the child like one of their own, and the girl quickly grew strong on their milk and ferocity. She loved the wolves like they were her real family. And though she would never know a human’s touch, though she would sometimes dream of her father’s weather-beaten face, she was happy. The constellations were her gods, and the cave was her temple. She could stare all she wanted at the stars, at the tapestry of universes in the sky, without getting burned. There was no reason for her to brave the Sun. 

But chance is often more powerful than reason. By chance, one afternoon, a traveler passed by and decided to rest in the cave. The traveler was tipsy on honeyed wine and had gotten sidetracked from the main route to the city. He was relieved to find shelter, even if said shelter lay in a malevolent-looking cavern. Upon entering, his eyes zeroed in on a pile of rags resting in the corner of the cave. Cautiously, he approached the bundle and gasped upon spotting a girl’s face. Her skin was so pale that at first, he thought she was dead. But her chest rose and fell ever so slightly, and her breath escaped her lips in short puffs. 

As he pulled away the rags that obscured her face, the traveler decided that not only was the girl alive, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Entranced, he eased his fingers through her tangled hair, then down the slope of her shoulders—down, down, down. And he wouldn't stop.

Eyelids fluttering, the girl awoke seconds later to a weight like stones on her body. She opened her eyes to the face of a man—though to her, he wasn’t a man, but a monster. He was the second man she would meet in her lifetime. And he would soon be the last.

     The monster was on top of her, his teeth bared, eyes dark and leering. With all the force she could muster, the girl pulled her hands free from where the monster had them pinned and sank her nails deep into those terrible eyes until she felt them squish beneath her fingertips. Pinkish ooze dribbling down his cheeks, the monster screamed—a horrible, broken howl—and broke away from her.

Stumbling on half-asleep feet, the girl thrust herself into the embrace of the sunlight. The warmth enveloped her at once, caressing her hair and face, washing away the dirtiness of the monster's touch. It made her feel tired—so tired her very bones seemed to weigh her down.

The monster was approaching, now, bellowing and cursing—trailing blood like crimson dewdrops on the grass as he stumbled toward her. But the girl smiled even as her legs gave out, even as her eyes closed for the last time. Because the Sun, whom she had been hiding from all her life, turned out to be the kindest of all.