From the balcony

A moment with Otakar and Oli

Little Oli looked out the window of the second-floor balcony on the moat side of the castle. The slice of sight of a stone Madonna with three kings bent at her feet was visible. Sitting across from her at the breakfast table, Oli’s father, the Baron Von Herrenritt, had just lit his handsomely carved stag hornpipe and was now gesturing at Oli’s unfinished breakfast of scrambled eggs with cheese.

Why don’t you eat? What’s the matter with you Olinka? You will waste away.”

Skinny Oli shrugged and smirked, her huge blue eyes beamed love. Mimicking a cupie doll she cocked her pretty head and balanced a grin upon her thin nine-year-old frame. Seated uncomfortably in a white taffeta dress with frills and black buckle shoes, she recomposed, flattened her hand against her chest and then looking around the floor, pointed under the table,

“My shoes are black papa.”

Comically, her father jolted upright and lifting the lace table cloth, looked under the table and gasped. “Ohhh?! I see Olinka! White dress and black shoes! What are you going to do?!”

Oli watched her father raise his head from under the table and when his smile met hers she shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know papa, I don’t know.”

“Do you think little girls with black shoes shouldn’t eat their breakfasts?”

Oli? Oli?

Oli listened to her father call her, but couldn’t answer. Her ears rang and the balcony took a bright blue cast; the walls narrowed around Oli and she saw a woman, grinning, dressed in medieval clothes appear next to her father, and place a slender hand along his shoulders.

“Papa, she’s here again. The princess is standing to your right. She is resting her hand on your shoulders, and she’s smiling, ” Oli said.

The ghost smiled at Oli and Oli nodded and winked.

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