Nibu drew her pink lace curtains to let in sunshine. The trees outside shimmered as if ground emeralds and rubies were sprinkled on them. Today was her big day. She was finally moving into her house on the other side of the village.
Nibu made fresh orange juice and chopped up strawberries to eat with her bread. She was out of honey so she used clumps of raw sugar instead. She wore a pink top with delicate lacy sleeves and a full flared skirt in magenta.
They were making quite a noise downstairs. For once there was no TV. Yet Sorrell was just about getting ready to bring the house down. He was quite a precocious 10 year old. Nibu had first met Sorrell when he was fiddling around with the TV remote but couldn't get the TV started. It didn't help that his parents kept him chained to the chair until they got home from work. Nibu had simply changed the channel to help that pesky boy out. And did he say "Thank you"? Oh no. He yelled and cried.
Although Nibu didn't really like Sorrell, he was her responsibility. She didn't want him to feel sad and lonely the way she had, in the house. So she arranged his toys, marked down the funny pages in the newspaper, warmed up his chocolate milk, baked candy hearts with grapes and rose petals, and even carried him to his bed when he fell asleep on the stairs.
Nibu thought that they were forming a bond. But Sorrell clearly had other plans.
A few days ago, Nibu happened to overhear Sorrell talk to his parents during lunch. His parents had fought and argued so long with each other the night before that they took the next day off. With no energy left to yell at each other, they turned their tired attention to their son.
Sorrell told them that he didn't want to live in the house anymore. He kept seeing some strange shadows moving around him. He had seen plates and glasses being placed on the table out of the blue. The worst was when he had fallen asleep on the stairs and he was lifted to his bed.
Nibu listened to all this. Her heart grew heavy. Nothing was ever going to enough for this greedy little boy.
Sorrell's parents didn't believe him at first. His father blamed his mother for feeding him too much sugar and meat. She was just about to snap back when Sorrell, sensing that his own pressing problem was about to get overlooked, took matters in his own hand. "Yesterday, you chained me to the chair. When you came back, I wasn't there."
His parents were first quite pleased that he had made a nifty little rhyme. They quickly realised that it wasn't intentional and that he was actually pointing out something that had escaped their attention.
They had indeed left him chained to the chair. When they returned he was playing in the library. Sorrell couldn't get out himself. Someone let him out. Could it be that Sorrell was speaking the truth?
One way or the other, their child had to be appeased. A prayer and smudging ceremony would be arranged the next day to drive away any shadowy spirits from the house.
Tears rolled down Nibu's face. She never wanted to cause any trouble. But she clearly had - with Sorrell and the two other families that came before him. Maybe it was time Nibu moved out for good. Maybe there would be good little children in the new place.
So that day Nibu didn't come out of her room at the end of the house. Sorrell's family had not unlocked that last bedroom yet. Stories of a young girl who had choked to her death had been a deterrent. But the main reason was these people could not stop arguing long enough to decide what to do with the place. Nibu looked around that room. She'd spend one last night here. Then she would ready to leave.
Now, as she wiped down the kitchen counter, just to delay matters really, she listened for Sorrell.
"Will she really be gone, Mama?", Sorrell asked.
"Yes, baby. We will ask her nicely and she will go. Go on ask her nicely."
But Sorrell didn't and couldn't do anything nicely. So he yelled, "Go away, stupid! Go away, stupid! I hate you!"
Nibu still poured a glass of milk and brought out cookies for him and left them on the table. Whether it was a tender goodbye or a last vengeful signature to spook the brat, who can tell?
But that done, she walked out of the window, floated a little bit in the air quite pleased with her choice of outfit, and settled softly onto the grass. She looked back, blew a kiss towards the house, and went on her way.
It was evening when she reached the other side of the village. It wasn't difficult to locate her grave at the cemetery. It was one with the pink inscription, "Nibu Derlas. A short life lived well."
Nibu fluffed her skirt, admired the sleeves of her top one last time, and lay down to rest.
The next morning, clusters of pretty crocuses with pink petals and magenta smudges dotted the entire place. The children of the village called these flowers, "candy hearts".
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