A Prison of Hope

You’d think it were an omen.

I had woken up unusually early that morning. I have the vague memory of a nightmare but don’t recall specifics. I was thankful that Tina, my wife, slept peacefully next to me in the bed. It was one of the few moments I could make out a smile on her face.

I carefully moved from the bed so as to not disturb her. Wrapping myself in my white robe, I ventured into the cool, misty morning. I liked the chill of the dewy grass on my feet far better than coffee. As I gazed out across the fields, I could see a light fog form an enchanting blanket above the crops. I sighed, wishing I had more opportunities to take in beautiful mornings like this.

“Who took you? Who took you?”

My head snapped towards the sound, and I squinted my eyes to make out who was there. It had come from down the yard near the olive grove. We did not harvest olives here on this farm, it always felt like too much work to pick the small fruits and brine them. But there were a few olive trees leftover from the previous owners, and Tina thought they were pretty so we kept them.

“Who took you?”

I began to walk towards the olive grove, no longer convinced I was hearing the voice of a person. There was no reason for anyone to come out all this way. I can’t even recall the last time we had a visitor. Tina was always so miserable, it had scared away any friends and family.

“Who took you?”

As I approached, my suspicions were confirmed. The silhouette of a tiny owl sat on top of the canopy, not much higher than eye level. Though I was relieved my ears were playing tricks on me, it was odd that the owl was pitched in plain sight on top of the tree, rather than nesting within the branches.

“Who took you? Who took you?”

“Be quiet!” I took a stone and threw it against the tree.

At the same time, a golden beam from the east caught my gaze. The sun was beginning to rise over the farm. Watching the sunrise was one of the few things that gave me joy these days. But now instead I was distracted by this damn owl-

I looked back and the owl was gone. I had heard no flapping, so I craned my neck to see if it was flying off, but the pink sky was clear. I shrugged and began to walk back to the house. As the sun climbed higher, it illuminated all of the pride I had put into polishing this home. Our home.

The fences were well cared for, I made sure of that. If any stake or plank began to weather or rot, I would quickly replace it. The sun shined on the radiant green crops, and displayed the clean, fresh coat of white paint on our home. The lawns surrounding the house were a deep rich green, and I took pride in manicuring them almost like a well cared for putting green. But I was truly gratified by the well-cultivated flower beds that both encircled the house and stretched all along both sides of the long, wide driveway, leading to the road.

I had done it all for Tina. Tina, who stayed in bed and kept the shades drawn all day and night. I had done it for Tina, who had never once seen them. As I made my way back to the house, I considered how much longer I could endure this trial. I had been heart broken by Tina’s diagnosis, but her spirit had been crushed. Nothing I did made any difference. I knew that if she would just step outside and take in our beautiful property, it would at least offer some relief. But she always rejected my invitations.

As I came up the hill from the grove, I was startled to see a slender figure standing at the door.

“Tina!” My heart filled with elation as I sped up to a jog. Finally, she was willing to leave her hovel and feel the sun on her skin. Finally, she would have a breath of fresh air and briefly leave the sadness behind.

As I approached the front door, my heart sank in confusion as I noticed a second, small figure standing in front of Tina. A little girl.

“Tina?” As I approached, Tina displayed a glimmer of promise in her eye. The girl did not turn, instead smiling up at Tina with strange affection. She clenched a brown paper box between both of her tiny hands.

“There you are darling. We’ve been waiting,” said Tina.

“Waiting?” I asked.

“This is Hope.” Tina held an odd half smile while a tear formed in her eye. “She’s going to live with us. As our daughter.”

The color drained from my face. “What are you talking about?”

“We put in our adoption application, yes? Well here we are.” Tina chuckled awkwardly. Hope still did not pay me any mind.

“We put in our application last week,” I said. “They told us it could take 6 months to a year, followed by an interview process and assessment with a social worker.” I looked around with desperation. There had been no car that drove up this morning, and I easily would have seen someone walk up the long driveway.

“Well maybe the wheels of fate spun our way this time,” said Tina. I knew what she meant, but it was an odd way to phrase it.

I stepped between Tina and the girl, and Hope finally looked at me.

“Did somebody bring you here?” I asked her.

“Hello Daddy!” she grinned.

I recoiled. “My name is Smith. Call me Smith.”

“That’s a weird name, Daddy Smith,” she said.

“Just Smith,” I repeated. “Now who brought you here?”

“What do you mean? I’m your daughter,” said Hope.

With an unexpected and strong push from behind, I stumbled off the stoop. I turned to see Tina scowling. “Why are you being mean to our daughter?”

“Mean?” I cried. “How’s it mean to ask questions? Why aren’t you asking more questions? Where did she come from? Who brought her here?”

Tina folded her arms. “Obviously, the adoption agency sent her.”

“They wouldn’t send a girl here by herself,” I snapped. I turned back to Hope. “Where’s your paperwork?”

Hope cocked her head. “Paperwork?”

“You know, birth certificates, legal forms. People can’t just become guardians of children without going through a process.” I looked at the box in her hand. “Is it in there?”

“Oh no,” said Hope. “You must never open this box.”

“What?” I asked. “Why not?”

“Well, it's my box. A gift from long ago.”

“Long ago? Just how old are you?” I asked.

“Five”

“Five?” I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t talk like a five year old.”

“How would you know what a five year old talks like?” asked Tina, grabbing the girl’s right hand. “Come along Hope, I’ll make you some breakfast.” Tina led Hope by the right hand while the girl clutched the box in her left. I followed them inside with a firm gate.

“I’m calling the police,” I said.

Hope looked back at me, still with a smile on her face. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not!” Tina crouched down and hugged her tightly. “What’s wrong with you, Smith?”

“What’s wrong with me?” I hollered. “We don’t know anything about this girl. She could be kidnapped, or is being coerced or something!”

“How could I be kidnapped when I’m home with my parents?” asked Hope.

“Are you listening to yourself?” Tina snarled at me. “Hope, go to the kitchen and wash up.”

Hope skipped past the door to the living room and turned left at the second door to enter the kitchen. Tina stood up and glared at me.

“How can you be alright with this?” I began.

“This is everything that we’ve ever wanted,” cried Tina. “Why do you have to turn everything into a problem?”

“Me? There’s procedures that have to be followed. We know nothing about this girl. How did she even get here?”

“You and your procedures.” Tina scowled and turned to walk into the kitchen.

I followed close behind. “They’re not my procedures! Have you lost your mind?”

Tina ignored the comment and went into the kitchen, grabbing a pan. “Hope, will you get some eggs from the fridge?”

“Of course, mommy.” Hope put the box on the kitchen counter and skipped over to the refrigerator.

“And this box,” I hissed. “Why won’t you show us what’s in this box?”

“Oh daddy,” said Hope, head in the fridge. “Why do you get like this?”

I picked up the box and began to examine it. What I had thought to be cardboard had a strange, leathery feel.

“What is this?” I asked.

Tina frowned. “Smith, maybe you need to leave.”

I gripped the box tightly and shook it. There was no noise, and the box felt empty. “I asked what this is! Why will nobody answer my questions?”

Hope lifted her head from the fridge holding four eggs in her hand. Her smile disappeared. “Why can’t we just be happy, daddy?”

“I’m not your daddy.”

She spoke softly. “But I’m your daughter.”

“Why won’t you tell me who you really are?” I yelled.

“I’ve told you everything I can,” said Hope.

Tina frowned. “Please, let’s just eat. Like a family.”

I had no choice. They were insane, the two of them. I knew I would get nothing from either of them. But in my hand was a thread of hope. A small chance that a clue might be inside this box.

I tore it open. With a flash, thunder shook the room and an owl flew into the corner above the cupboard.

“Not again,” Hope cried.

I began to glean something. A life, from long ago. It was from a primal time, a time before humans had formed cities. A time when the three of us were happy.

“Don’t feel bad, Daddy. Last time, Mommy opened the box.”

I had designed and built this box. It was my gift to my daughter. A foolish gift crafted in pride. Back then, we thought we understood everything. We thought the knowledge of the universe was at our fingertips, and using this knowledge we would bend it to our will. But the universe refused to bend.

“What is this? Oh Hope, my daughter!” I could see that Tina had gained a glimpse of the truth as well. She had somehow known before me, perhaps a motherly instinct. Sounds of thunder sirened about the kitchen, but I knew there was no storm outside.

“Mommy, it’s ok, we can try again,” cried Hope.

The great ones atop the mountain had imprisoned us here until we could resolve the disaster I had created. We failed again and again, and would live through lifetimes of misery, inside this tiny realm. A fabrication I had constructed, to keep the world safe.

The three of us huddled together. Tina shed tears, and I knew that she had come to the same realization I had. In a moment we would forget all of this, and begin anew.

“Things are going great outside,” said Hope. “The humans have grown so much.”

“That’s good.” Tina wept.

“Thank you,” I said. “Then this isn’t all for-”

In unison, Creation and Destruction tore the farm asunder leaving only darkness behind. In the darkness, the fires of hope will set us free. Hope is what makes us strong, it is why we are here. It is what we fight with when all else is lost. The three of us held each other for the last time as chaos erupted.

As the cycle repeats, we dance in an eternal prison of our own making. But we will always have hope.