A Witch's Tale

The course of my life was seen in the orb sitting precariously by the open window. The curtains were
torn and muddy from being tampered with by little hands. Fingerprints and handprints coated the table
and could be seen littering the floor for when her children would play like dogs. I was not exactly
comfortable, nor did I feel at all in disease or felt ashamed to be in the presence of a witch. She was
heard, but not seen by me as she tinkered in the kitchen, brewing ointments and preparing for her scry.

I came with little fortune, as many had seen me as not particularity a healthy girl. I came from little
means, and worked hard scrubbing floors of houses that were in need of ridding their home of dirt and
filth. So I was covered with the proof of my existence, bearing little weight on my tender hands as I
worked tirelessly for my mother and father. While I was practiced living in other peoples homes,
cleaning, I always thought about what it would be like posed in such a luxury of claiming a place as my
own. But there I was, the witch having me on my hands and sore knees scrubbing her muck I started to
call a life to call my own. I was a little tempted to ask the witch if she needed a helper, but as I opened
my mouth to speak, she came scurrying into the room, almost a panic about her.

“Are you a mother? What was your name again?”

She eyed me cooley as she placed the scrying bowl in front of me. I tried to smile at her, but her face was
downcast and as ridden of feeling. She seemed to match the smudges of dirt caking the outside of her
apron. I merely pretended to know what I was prepared to do for this woman, what to say and how to
answer her accordingly, as I had come with desperation to understand my life. And that of my brother.

“It says here child, you are expecting, perhaps a boy? Is it in your heart you feel this way, under all that
contempt for your life?”

I nodded my head, and just stared at the table.

“I have contempt as I have birthed a pain.” She sat down slowly, as she paused before continuing.

“Not a literal child, as I am a virgin. My parents can attest to this, I haven’t the time or the need for a
husband.”

Her smile was crooked, and her hair was a tucked in a tight bun that shimmered gold and silver in the
dimly lit room.

“But you have heard of leaving one behind to get what you want out of life? If it meant losing all the
time? Tell me, does your family know of your pregnancy?”

“I’m not pregnant. But my mother was.”

The truth was, my brother was already drafted to be a soldier in the war against the scots, and yes it had
been my burden, as I thought horridly of the damnation one would feel if they lost their life but the
sword wielded by peasants and farmers. It was to die in shame I believed, but something about it always
kept me humbled, and away from the burdens of being a man in these cruel times.
“So you have unprecedented guilt on behalf of your brother? Hmm? You feel somehow responsible for
his inevitable duty to the crown? Which from what I can see, would lick the mud from its golden tips,
making in shine for him the way you were born to serve them.”

She touched the underside of my chin lightly to raise my chin to meet her glossy eyes.

“You have been cursed my dear? Did you know? You carry the weight of shame because deep down, you
are fighting the fight within, that seems to create the wretched chaos you find in the comfort of the
homes you wish you could only torch to the ground, putting an end to your slavery. But, if you allow me
to assist you, I can make the bad dreams and monsters disappear from your life.”

Tears were hot and streaming down my cheeks. My lips began to quiver as I recalled the many
nightmares casting out from my mind into the world that were tattered dreams. Like the cloth I had been
cut from, it was only ever meant to turn back to dust.

“Let us begin.”

“Beatrice! Come outside! I have a gift for you!” My friend Gabrielle came bounding down the Heather
hillside, kicking up the soil and dancing in the sunlight. Her hair was a brilliant colour yellow that shone
like the morning dawn. Weeds and grass stained her dress, but the colour of the earth matched her fairy
like features it was almost as if she could be pressed into the pages of a fairytale. We collected flowers in
these days in the gorges of the hillside, that we would trap in between the pages of our precious books,
that we would reimagine for ourselves as a secret kingdom we’d rule from within. There was a magic
that poured from our tears as we sat up laughing at the images of orces and ugly things, stomping
around in the chambers of our wooden homes pretending to be the sorest thing our eyes had ever seen.

My father would be seen chopping wood in the midday sun, the sweat off his brow glistening, breathing
heavy and muttering what silly things we had been up to. My father and Gabrielle’s father were farmers,
and we had been sharing our profits for as long as I could remember. We guarded our property well and
grew together through the seasons, watching our little wealth grow in the trust we had in our ability to
be bound by favour and, as wee believed to be friendship. We felt free, and untouched by the hands of
curses and ugly minds. We were a kingdom in of itself, with a view of the town that twinkled in the
twilight with the souls of each kind heart shining back at us from below. We waited each night to watch
the stars turn and sparkle down at us like crowns atop of our heads. The beauty was overwhelming and
at last we our share our gratitude of it with bellies full of good food and laughter. When the night was
swelling with a soundless calm, Gabrielle and I stood quietly outside my mothers room, which was
humbled by the delicate candle burning with the passion of a newborn written on my fathers face. He
was holding her hand as she let out a wail. She was in labor, and the nursemaids whispered and fettered
over the timely practice of delivering a newborn.

“My brother is coming!” Gabrielle pressed a finger over her lips.

“Not so loud Beatrice!” She said in a little bit of a shaky voice.

“You know how these things for grownups are, we as good children must remain quiet and let the
grownups solve this.”

My eyes lit up.

“Perhaps we should pray!” Gabrielle said at last as she anticipated each moan of my mother. She raised
her trembling hands in prayer, closing her eyes.

“I have a better idea!” Gabrielle fluttered her eyes and sighed. She grabbed my hand.

“Let’s do a spell! We can help with the fortune of a healthy child if we turn to our books!” Gabrielle
pursed her lips. She looked hesitant under the glow of the worried flickering of the candle that lit the
birthing room.

“What could go wrong?” I held her hand tightly, and smiled at her with a pleading about my
countenance.

“Alright, but let’s be quick, I want to see your brother when he comes as I would like to give him a kiss
upon his blessed forehead. And help him to cry a little less through the night.”

We hurried down the short hall to the upper room that we would conjure our magic from within. We
climbed the rickety ladder and tiptoed over the creaky floorboards. The little lightning bugs we captured
in our jars were beating hard against the glass jars. We used them to light the rooms in a greenish glow.
We didn’t know power could be brought down from heaven, and I always watched as Gabrielle would
gaze her eyes upon them, with a little bit of worry.

“Should we pray? And perhaps let the lightning bugs fly away into the stars? Back where they belong?”

I traced my hand over the glass jar and raised the jar to the moon that was peering shyly down at us.

“We could. But I was thinking we should do an oath like how the spirit angels do to cast a spell of
protection. Only when the moon is full, can we cast this oath into the wind where the spirits live.”

Gabrielle’s skin was crawling with goose pimples.

Notice she was beginning to breath heavily in little panic stricken breaths, I hurried over to her and
grabbed her hands into mine.

“Do you trust me? And swear to me you’ll always be my best friend?”

She squinted her eyes to see my shape in the night. After a moment she jumped after hearing my
mother cry from downstairs.

“I promise! Please it’s getting closer to your brothers birth, what do we do?”

“I want you to close your eyes, and sing.”

“What should I sing? Her voice perked up a little as I tightened my grasp on her hands.”
“A ballad I wrote, for you.”

She remembered the song I played on my harp my father bought in town. It teased the air with a gentle
calm that emerged from the tightly strung instrument. She gathered herself and lowered her head.

“Be a song, be my love, when all is wrong and all is sung, remember the lost girls free like doves.”

It was a small poem I sung at my fathers side, in the room where we would read together into the night.
He would smile and sit like a king in the small enchantment, a dream reaching out its hope to him, that
we were both one in each other’s love while my mother looked at us with a gentle stare. Proud as one
family, Gabrielle shuttered as a draft prickled her skin from the night.

And just as we sealed the song with our hope, a loud cry swelled the downstairs, tender chords from a
healthy new born could be heard bouncing off the wooden walls of the cabin.

“See! Look what we’ve accomplished! We actually helped to deliver a newborn!” I was in such ecstasy
that I became a bit clumsy, and without wanting I had knocked over the glass jar to the floor, spilling the
lightning bugs into the fresh moonlit air.

“Nevermind that!” I teased as Gabrielle looked in awe at the shattered jar.

“I guess this was a good thing, now, the bugs won’t die in the heat of the jar?”

“And my brother now has two enchantresses to call his own kin.”

Gabrielle continued to stare down at the pieces of the glass, she was shaking a bit, and her eyes looked
as though they were glazed over.

“Gabrielle? Are you alright?”

Gabrielle seized up in a one powerful jerk like motion. Her body was thrashing around as though she had
been bitten by something, ripping the flesh from her bones.

“Gabrielle! What’s wrong!” I recall this day with a heavy sickening feeling nesting in my lap everything I
dream of it. With an innocent worry I stare down at her trembling body, knelt down and pulling at her
dress to try and help her to start. She fell into a heavy heap into the floor, she began to scream and cry
for her mother and father, and I could only sit there and watch the life being drained from her as though
the devil was feasting on her insides. The nursemaids came rushing up the ladder to see what all the
noise was about, Gabrielle was lying dead in the floor, drool bubbling at her pale lips.

I didn’t know what I could feel in that moment, like the winds of the night harnessing the spirit of death I
hadn’t known why the Gods would take my friend that night. My father had tears rolling down his
cheeks, and the nursemaids ran from the house claiming there to be a curse that had taken not just
Gabrielle, but my mother as well. My brother was a bundle of gleaming perfection under the weighty
stars, his hair a golden yellow and his face swelled with newborn fat. A babe that would look untouched
by the serpent death had claimed from us that night. In a daze I brushed past Gabrielle’s father who then
grabbed my arms to shake me awakening with knowledge of my mothers passing as well, he just looked
me dead in my cold eyes, and muttered something that dropped with tones of vengeance.

“Devil.”

I brought my hands to my face and laid down next to my mothers still body. The night was cold and the
windows were spread wide open to allow her to breathe in the victory over childbirth, but instead
thereby lingered her spirit, waiting for me outside the window. I crawled up beside my mother, and with
my little hand I brushed back her red hair. She had the most beautiful of hair, while mine was brown and
plain, she had the gift of fire that would crown her head like a Queen of the flame that gave me life. And
now, as I curled into a ball like a wounded animal beside her, I considered barging into my brothers new
room to throw him into the powerful tide of the river that flowed beside us that now carried the tune of
my song in it, perhaps awaiting for him to come at last to take back what belonged to him. What cursed
him, what now branded my skin with the shame of helping to give life to a monster born in flames.

The second the sun rose on my 28th birthday, I heard a loud crash outside my window. The echoing
thunder stirred me to the point where I then rolled out of my sac. I scrambled to my feet to lean out the
window. Reaching my hand out I caught the little raindrops between my fingers, letting them look and
drip down my palm. It felt, relieving. Nature was as close as any home, for these years were dreary like
the clouds that regularity came rolling in through and through. I was alone, but frightened and covered
the window with a large rag so the rain wouldn’t damper any of what belongings I had left. I took an alm
in my hand and brought it to the window sill to gather myself and to sigh calmly into the morning dawn. I
rubbed my hand over my belly, groaning at my hunger panes and suddenly felt weak at my knees. It was
through my teenage years that I hadn’t known if I was falling ill, or slowly losing all my senses to an out
world beyond my recent understanding of things. The world, me and my petty life was the soul searching
turmoil that brought my family to their knees. We were afraid, hungry and poor after we had lost
Gabrielle there was a rumor spread about a curse laid on our family line, so that no one would be
permitted to come near us or help us, that is if you didn’t want your head cut off by the king. Witches by
name, innocence by nature we were banished to the outlands where the food was scarce where the soul
was brittle and infertile.

But not all was as accustomed to the bones as one is normally felt to the muscles of the heart. As was
our innocence, the organs left too buried under flesh and blood could only harken the admittance of
mortality in the reasonable acquiescence of death. To me, the thoughts of Gabrielle, her sickening
overture from a friend lost in the pages of time served now gods in a realm that brought me to my filthy
knees, reminders of the body in its most vulnerable of states, that one too could use them if it weren’t
for the nerves about us. Losing time was yet another reason father never looked at me again, for when
he scoured the corners of my room and revealed to me his anger in bouts of destruction, I could not
answer to him the meaning of my obsessions, for witchcrafts and rumours of witchcraft. He would
precede to pull and tear at my dresses that were tucked in neat piles on top of woven furniture, the wool
of winters secret plight to charm was yet another abominable plot to shower myself in the freezing rain
and icy hail dividing the skies and my dreams. Demanding me to help, now, was all that was ever asked
of me but for why I could not demand my time alone was yet the curse I wore now that were to be loved
and cherished, as the fading colours were appropriate, and calming to the eye.

As the morning yet pressed on into time, I felt the weight of my body leave my flesh as now I belonged to
no one, for who could love me when all I had seen was the very night the devil had his way. My father
was out for the day, I thought it best to keep the tender home just as mother would, charms and herbs
littering the kitchen table I thought to eat, but knowing father would want me to find my own way, I
headed for the door and walked through the field. I kept my head steady and downcast as the people
who sought me on the dirt road, I avoided them just as father urged me to do. The fallen stars were
caught in the night which I was forbidden to notice but saw them in eyes of the people who would just
barley notice me staring. Oftentimes this walk would take me to places I’ve seen before, without
understanding why or which way was for the very best, until I suddenly stopped and noticed something
crawling on the road ahead. I halted with a start and stood still as I watched in awe. The temperament of
the thing I saw, was as though it was not human, and for how it came to be, I could only think quickly as
to what to do, if it were to devour me or crawl away, I guessed at this and so decided to walk forward.
The thing was black all over, it had a snout that was peeking out from its cloak that inhaled the dust and
licked its feet, which were its hands, or in place of his hands, and he bore a tail that swept back and forth
as of looking for something. I reeled back when I suddenly stepped on a branch and caught his attention,
but only then did I notice he was looking past me, behind me and not at all noticing I was coming closer
to him. He let out a snort and bore me his terrible teeth.

“Pardon me?” That’s what I saw! The damned creature in the road, not a single person saw but me!”

“You saw this creature, looking for?”

Something, though I’m not sure what he would want, you know father you must please tell me what it
was?!” Exasperated and stung with worry I felt a burst of jealousy that he was keeping something from
me. Knowledge he knew, demons I did not.

“What about this life do you not make up in that ratty head if yours? Do you not understand?! You’re
only scaring yourself and making a fool out of me every time you do this! There was no animal, and if
there was I’m sure it was you!”

My eyes filled with burning hot tears with a look of shock written on my face.

“But father that’s impossible! I saw it! It was old and ugly and it wasn’t scared of me. At least, I don’t
think.”

“Show me where this creature is, or was, and then I’ll teach you how to mind your manners and stay out
of peoples way.”

“Yes, father.” In the trek down the path my father walked straight ahead of me not daring to look at
anyone.

On our walk my father passed by strangers and would perk up when gossip of my brother whispered and
lingered in the air. Cool words and hissing tones only angered my father more so than usual on this day.
Stalking the streets and looking for answers of him and his life only made my heart sink. He was an
adversary of war, he was asked to fight in the battle with England, but he could not stand the idea of
protecting a land that was abandoned and twisted in a cruel fate that brought no one back from the
dead. So he sought refuge, ran for the hills and tore the burden to protect from his grips as he threw
away his comrades and is now in hiding. Oftentimes when the moon is still, I creep up to my box of
treasure and read his letters, his conscription and his farewell. I cry over the words he writes when he
speaks of his wife who he freed from his past, and now enjoys cool suppers in his hidden home
somewhere in a village unknown to me. I asked my father about it once, the only thing he could tell me
of him was that he was expecting his wife to do the worst thing a woman can do, and that was to rid him
as a caring husband, and deem him a a coward. I thought of myself, then as the poor beggar woman, if I
were her and if he were me also, carrying burdens like crying wolves over my shoulder in a pack ready to
hunt or worse, be hunted like dogs. I recall the walk that morning, as we turned the corner and saw yet
what appeared to be a cottage. The bright colourful stacks of red brick staggered me as it was seamlessly
hidden yet so pristine in shape and decor. Flowers were littered in the soil and a little cat sat preciously
on the sill whose eyes reflected the sun like a mirror. I stepped back behind my father, as I couldn’t stand
what he might think on the idea we were trespassing on land. A fence was poking out from a ground and
a little girl slipped over to the fence from behind the cottage and rested her chin on it. We stared and
father turned to me and shrugged.

“Well? Where’s the beast or creature you were talking about?”

I stood speechless and dumbfounded as I wasn’t sure if this was where I had been, where the beast had
me at a dead ended road where a mucky river lied. Here was a cottage, the chimney smoking and the girl
looking at us, I had to speak.

“This cottage wasn’t here before.”

My heart skipped a beat, for I knew if I told him that Ive never been here, it would mean another daring
plight to careless dream, conspiring against him. It only meant more shame to him than ever before. For
now it seemed, I was losing my mind yet when I saw the girls face look at me, beside myself in a fit of
confusion I saw her, her smile turned black as night, as it stretched like a canvas, and a rug was being
beaten down by the woman who stood with the racket in her hand. The woman was as it were, a
careless dream, stacking a pie on the window sill, approached by her daughter whose face seemed to
glow with desire.

My father spoke loudly so I could hear, wincing I clued into what he was announcing to the man, who not
far off was coming towards us with a parcel.

“You there, boy, young merchant or whatever. Was this cottage here the day before yesterday? Is it
recently built?”

The man beamed a smile as he walked steadily using a cane to balance the heavy load toed on over his
back.
“Why he’s sir, this cottage belongs to my dearest aunt and niece, who are always on their best
behaviour.”

I blinked at him as though he were spinning a tale.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking this and please pardon this intrusion, but my daughter here says this
cottage has never been built, she remembers a river and nothing else.”

“Whatever do you mean?” He asked as my father eyed him without blinking as though studying traces of
any discrepancy.

“She claims there was trouble on the road, a little while back before she had forgotten where she was it
seems so that must be it. Perhaps you’d like to tell her a bit about it.”

“Father please, it’s alright I was just on my way into town when I thought I saw something. It wasn’t
anything to worry about, I thought and minded my business. However I don’t remember seeing this
cottage here, that’s all.” I felt the guilt of my foolish nature tickle my cheeks to blush.

“Not at all, this cottage has been here and kept very well kept, the owners of the cottage were friends of
mine who gave it to us as a gift for our services to them, they were very kind and truly our benefactors in
claiming this cottage as our home.”

“What did they do?” I asked politely, it was then interrupted by my father.

“Beatrice, don’t be rude. It’s not polite to ask what people do for a living. You don’t even know these
people.”

“Pardon, excuse me sir for being rude.”

“It’s no trouble at all, you see they were poachers of large elephants who sold ivory. We kept them busy
with our business with them, and the more they built their riches, the more they gave away. We’re only
sorry we hadn’t ended our relationship so soon.” The merchant grinned as we smiled back at him.

“Whatever for? Why, it seems you have all the facts Beatrice, perhaps next time ask before coming here
alone and maybe ask if they need help or any kind.”

“Yes father, thank you.”

“It’s too bad you can’t come here during the evening however, if I may be so bold as to add to your
request, but the evening can be very disheartening for a young lady to walk alone all the way here.”

“I could come during the daytime?”

“Ah yes but see, we’re busy all day long preparing the cottage and it’s difficult to keep our young niece
from distracting guests as she is someone we seek to raise in a private household.”

“Why’s that?” Father said bluntly.

The merchant blinked.

“Well, she’s special, she lost her father and mother to a couple of murderers not a while long ago, they
were walking with her home during the night, you see, and something took them. We never knew what,
it changed the way we see people.” A sad shade of red tinted his face, as he clutched onto his cane and
seemed to hold in his breath.

“That’s too bad, we’ll be sure to keep an eye out. Thank you for your trouble. We’ll best be on our way
then.”

“GoodBye.” I waved as we walked past him. As we marched on I turned to see the man with the cane
watching us as we disappeared into behind the treelined forest. As I walked close behind my father he
didn’t say a word but kept his back tall and straight as he kept ahead of me. I felt a little light hearted but
soon found him speaking again, after a moment of silence.

“I don’t want you looking for trouble, try to avoid this road and keep to places you know well.
Understand?”

“Yes father.”

“Good, now let’s get back before it gets too late, it always gets a bit nippy around this time of day, but
first one last stop before we head on home.”

“Where are we going?”

“I jut have to pick something up, you can wait here if you like.”

“No, that’s okay, I think. I can come with you?” I asked half heartedly.

“It’s just something from a guy who helps me farm, I’ve started on a new project and he repairing
something I broke while digging.” With downcast eyes he kept his head down and I crossed steps as I
followed. In response to my fathers attempts to salvage our pit of a home, the one which was
desecrated, I hoped for a miracle to come, like a bright new home.

He didn’t say anything of the man himself, the merchant or inquire to what I thought of the woman and
girl, so I simply agreed with an ‘okay’ and followed closer. We reached the village and the whole place
was teaming with people. Laughter and children sprang from their homes and woman giggled at men
who stewed over their flashy dresses. I looked down at myself and saw nothing to be impressed about,
but when we entered the shop I noticed the place was as dark as it was empty. The tinkering glass that
housed the flames popped inside and a threatening musky air drew me in. The man at the counter was
old and wrinkly, he even had a long white beard and slick hair as though it had been dipped in grease,
slicked back and wore an apron covered in rust. I stared at him and approached with caution, upon
seeing me he looked at my father, and took the pipe from his mouth.

“Your tools fixed, need me to pack it up for ya?”

“Oh already? What a surprise, I thought I needed to give it a little more time. I was just wondering if
there was anything seriously wrong with it that I needed to know about.” He drummed the countertop
and kept a fixed gaze at the man, as though he were peering past the burning coal in his eyes.

“Ah, not much, just your basic malfunction of slamming the thing and trying to fix it yourself.” He
laughed and my father squinted at him.

“Well thanks for letting me know, I’ll be sure not to slam the thing. What else do you have in shop today?
Do you mind if I poke my head around?”

“Not at all, just let me know if you find anything you like.”

“Thank you.” Father spoke sternly and decided then to walk briskly down the aisles, leaving me to stand
aimless at the man not sure to follow or to engage in small talk, as for when I peeked to my left outside
the dust caked window, snow flakes began to tease the air, my eyes growing wide with question.

“Breatrice?” I snapped my attention down the hollowed aisles that echoed his sharp tone, I jumped and
stalked after him, I was filled with worry at this seemed this place was riddled with tack.

“See anything worth getting?”

“Uhm, I dunno, anything to help with your planting, maybe a watering jug?”

“Well we don’t use watering jugs at the farm. Remember we use a well and I’ve figured out how to get it
working so the plants in the field can grow without the extra hard work, you didn’t know about that?”

“No, I guess I didn’t.”

“Well you should! Maybe it’s because your never outside anymore in the field watching me work, I
suppose it’s to be expected being a young lady and all.” He sighed and I made a face.

“Oh well.” I waited for him to make up his mind.

“Ah here’s it is!” He pulled a large thick thing with teeth grinding off the shelf. It swung a hefty chain
from its mouth, and it looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned, I spied a little closer and a spot of red
was staining one of the jetting teeth. Crooked and broken, it seemed it had been used before. I
swallowed and spun my thumbs to distract myself from the stench of ruin that held meaning for
whatever my father needed it for, whose eyes remained glued to my face. He asked me to hold it.

“Dad it’s too heavy! I can’t hold that! But I’ll try.”

“Ah don’t worry about it.” He paused and sniffed. I whirled back with the sing song tune of the bell that
shattered the silence and teetered in place, feeling the approach of someone wielding as much thought
as I could muster in a single swing of the rotting wood frame. The moment it ceases it’s creaking, father
swung the instrument into the other hand and nodded at the new comer as he gently placed the chain
along the counter, standing in front of the small lady to my surprise, while then motioning me to come to
his side. I hurriedly made my way back to the counter where the merchant folded his large and testy
fingers. The big bearded man who was piping looked at the bear trap he rested on the counter. He
popped the pipe in his mouth.

“How much do I owe you?”

“17 shillins.”

“Well I don’t have 17, do you have change fore a gold piece? It’s all I got.”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.” The old lady behind me smiled, I said a quick hello, as and peered at the papers she held
tenderly in her hands. I felt embarrassed then to be seen with a bear trap, let alone my father doing
something again to thwart my growing pains to be just as gentle as I hoped to become. The lady felt
uneasy as I yearned to know what she held between her delicate fingers, and as I turned to ask what she
held that this man possibly needed it for, my father spun around holding the trap and I felt a shock of
anger, an impossible plight to leave me alone with these people, reasoning that I stay and why
something as precious as me could be just as filthy as his possession. I then looked at the woman, and
said a gentle goodbye to her, then the man, responding with a wink, then quietly opened the door to
feel a rush of air mixed with a warm glow touch my face. I looked which way and that for my father, and
seeing he had left, I turned yet again to feel the bitter blast of cold air surge through me. Jolting I called
out for my father.

“Father!?” The old lady emerged from the store, and stood beside me flitting with her papers.

“Cold day isn’t it?”

Distracted by her sudden appearance I responded with a nod.

“I believe it is.” I quickly added.

“Did your father leave you here? What a thing to do. You’re just a small little thing you must be freezing.”
Her voice was coaxing the moment I felt trapped by her presence, the frost bite on my cheeks and
nipped at her.

“I’ll go find him. I’ll See you later.” With that, I tugged my scarf tighter around my neck and marched off
in the direction of home, and then considered this, if my father were to see me, I better bring home
something to keep us warm.

I rubbed my hands together and blew into them, letting my breath warm the skin that began to prickle
and glow pink from the storm that began to swirl and heighten. I looked all around with a stiff neck
preparing to find something to please my father with. I spied a bundle of sticks lying next to the road,
hesitantly and astonished such an enterprise were to be in my wake, I rejoiced at the seldom find and
with a stroke of luck filling my cheeks I stomped through the snow that crunched beneath my them, and
bent down to gather them.
“Pick up sticks.” I muttered, and smiled at how pleased one might feel to help keep one warm in the
midst of such a challenging time. I leaned back and carefully divided the sticks with numb fingers. I
stopped to take in the air, the horizon drew together at the stretched sky above that was so vast yet so
plundered below by the set houses and cottages in our compact village. I then gazed at the place I
swooned for, feeling a growing warmth at my core. I searched for it, the castle, whose years spent
playing with the glistening natural world spun upon its head, I searched tirelessly for it. After a moment I
knew where I was. In the gorge lies the magnificent dream that echoed in the distance trumpets and
dances from husbands and wives, same as we are, yet cradled in the valley. The forest guarded her
majesty, while the king sat enthroned in his gentle sun sparkling and dazzling the kingdom. Yet it seemed
so raw in all it appeared, a castle, stone and hard against nature, were we all were as god forsaken as
even the highest of the most high. I sighed and felt a twinge of jealousy for the princess, who probably
never even saw the light of the dawn from a river or a hilltop. I then retired my dreams and headed
home, warming up the the bitter cold and mortality of the tension I must hold against it.

“Father?” I carefully opened the door and was careful not the creak the floorboards. I’m sure he had
fallen asleep. I stepped into the kitchen, living space and dared not enter the bedroom but tried
knocking for an answer. No one, just the cold draft from the window opened on the other side. I felt a
twinge of fear that he might be out again without bringing me along. I thought of the cottage then, the
immaculate emergence from the fog and that beast for which saw not with his eyes, but his hands. I
shook my head and continued to search for father, when suddenly I stumbled. I let out a cry and
watched as the orb rolled across the floor to stop at the door. I frowned.

“What’s this doing here? Why does father hide such weird things?” Then I remembered. The dream, on
the auspicious night of Gabrielle’s death, the call to darkness afterwards perhaps was my blackening
heart that called me to meet her. I stood quickly but cautiously walked towards the glowing hum of the
orb. I reached down and placed it back on the table behind me and looked. The orb was a deep purple, a
mist was resounding inside the glass that played with starlight captured in its prism. A refraction of light,
which my mother asked me about, must be because of the many fragments captured in one place,
eternity then must be real.

“But I’m not. I never was, dreams of shattered lives lost to damn witchcraft, and to the haunting last of a
love lost to my attempts to please the devils ploy if only I knew better. Father keeps a bible near his
dresser, the heavy book never reached my attention for play was my life, but to yet claim another plot of
mixed discipline would be to tear the pages from the book to keep me alive, so I could only watch then,
as the orb glowed at my touch. A jolt of lightning sparked my finger and I snatched my hand away. I
wondered then, what was father doing with it?

“Not another storm, why the rotten luck?” A tender voice emerged from the doorway. My eyes lit up and
I felt every urge to stand up and greet him, but only stared at the orb.

I made sure not to say a word. He stopped after removing his boots and kicked the snow off his feet.

“Finally, peace and calm. Oh you’re here, where’d you find that?”
I looked down quickly to my hands. I mumbled.

“Speak up I can’t hear you!” I looked at the orb.

“Oh, that thing, I don’t know where it came from, guess it’s another witchy thing you do to keep yourself
preoccupied. Do me a favour and help me with this load, I can’t carry all these sticks in the house.” His
tone creaked in his throat.

I quickly got up and slowly helped him.

“I brought some home myself, I knew you were in need of warming the house so I did you the favour and
collected them myself. On my way home, after we got the bear trap.” I felt very saddened at this, I hadn’t
understood why we were always in constant danger, fleeing for our lives from one stranger or animal.

“It doesn’t help that it’s a blizzard out there. Say, why don’t you go take a look at the bear trap, it’s
between the crops in case of any intruders? I hope I didn’t frighten you.”

My eyes turned down, I looked at his boots and back up at him, noticing he had a smile across his face.
Something felt, different.

“Sure. I said, careful not to make him angry, I suppose I will go look for the bear trap?”

“Good, then I’ll start the tea.” I watched him move past me, gazing at the orb as he walked past it
disappearing into the dark kitchen.

“I lit a candle, Dad, just in case you needed light.”

I heard a loud bang from the kitchen and quickly shut the door behind me.

I hurried into the blast of wind that tossed me from side to side, I clambered over the hardened soil and
was careful to step over where the trap must be hidden. I sighed and panicked as for I wasn’t sure if I’d
make it back or get lost in the white fog that swept over my vision, blinding me in rage, I fell to the
ground and looked straight ahead. The bear trap was just a hairline from my face, my finger laid close to
its prying jaws wide open, ready to clamp down. I fought to scramble up and steadied myself in prayer
and stared at the blood stained device and felt my cheeks glow.

“Close claw,” I muttered, and stretched and raised to the skies and let out a howling cry.

The next morning was nothing peculiar, ridden from my guilt of nearly losing a hand I decided to help my
father in the frosty morning. I kept fiddling with my wooden jacket snared in heat from the spitting fire
next to the door.

“Ready?” He urged.

“Almost. I just can’t seem to get this button through the loop. There!” And I smiled shyly wearing my
mothers flower knitted hat, ready to help in whichever way father felt.
“Alright, hey did you happen to find that bear trap I was telling you about?”

“Yes,” I said in defeat, “I suppose I did.”

“What did you make of it?”

I paused and let the fire warm my ears and head.

“I thought, it was very dangerous, I almost stepped on it.”

“Oh dear, better carry a flashlight before heading out in the snow like that, here I’ll get you another scarf,
you may need it for when we start planting our crops.”

We headed out the door, and I stayed a pace or so behind, and realized there was no wind or snow this
evening, and felt the bear trap on my skin, mistaking it for the cold.

We planted for what seemed like hours in the field that was barren from any healthy plants. Everything
we grew was eventually meant to rot under the heated blanket of slick slush that slipped under my
leather boots. A tantrum of birds were scoffing at me from the old knarled tree that spies on me during
the day, if not for the constant change of seasons that dement it more each day. I felt a guilt knowing I
was as still as it was forbidden to dance or ask questions deep from the hollow, where I used to hide. It
was a tree, a tree that snared at me from the birds claiming what seemed to be a life mistreated.

“May I go?” I said in a low tone.

“You may.” I tossed the shovel from my hands and left him to his thinking about me wandering too not
far and a little bundle of tweed that would work against the snippy air. I followed the shadows into the
open forest where the birds loomed and their eyes widened in awe. The arch of their necks meant they
were vultures but none would question me as for I am too young to be eaten as food. I heard coo from
an owl that must be just awakening to the sound of my presence, and stopped and pondered which
direction would be the clearest. The dipping sunlight was honey and the trees were shadowed in a
canopy of illusion that broke my heart at the sound of yet the distinct sound of a wolf from up to far off,
so I disheartened the warning.

As my shadow kept me company, the forbidden act of playing with shadow made me wonder if darkness
were a friend of mine, I watched it as it followed ahead of me pointing north to the upper part of the
snowy enclosure. Just as my lonesomeness battled me to turn back, I heard someone cry for help.

“Help me!” I stopped suddenly and waited for words to come.

“I said if you don’t help me, I will find you.” I snapped back.

“W-what do you mean? How can I help you if I cannot see you?” I thought smartly.

“Don’t make me get my father after you! I’ve done nothing to you, whoever you-“

“I’ve made my man ask for my hand in marriage, and now I can’t seem to find my wedding ring, I think it
must have fallen down the hole of a tree, looking for me dinner.”

I paused, a slow push of the wind teased my hair and blinded my vision before placing a hand to my lips.

“I can’t imagine how you must feel, poor tree.”

“Can you please help me? Mind the branches they may be a bit hidden and large so you might trip over
to which then, I would lose you too.” The voice beckoned with her tone, as I stalked further into the
wood.

“Be a nice girl, and follow the ribbon tied to each tree, I’ve never lost my way but things closest to me.” I
felt an urge to ask questions, and noticed my first sign at redeeming this ring.

“If you listen closely enough, you too can hear the trees morn for me.” The stretch of wood broke the
silence and burst forth a roar from one of the vultures. I stumbled on the moss ridden rot crunching
under my foot and trapping it into a swath of mud.

“Don’t let him frighten you.” I won’t come out until you do, oh if only I could find my wedding ring!”

“I’ll find your ring.” I said as my breaths collapsed over one another in an attempt to keep her
preoccupied.

“Do you trus-s-s-st me?”

“You sound helpless enough, being a tree and all, which hollow did one of the vultures put the ring
into?”

“Oh dear, I already told you, follow the ribbons tied in a knot upon each branch. There you will find my
ring, and perhaps even my husband? But we’ll talk about that later.”

“Fine, just tell me where it is.”

“I spy with my little eye, something that is high up.” I craned my neck back, and searched and to my
sudden surprise, I saw a moon and a litter of stars.

“When did it get dark? How may I find anything in this darkness?”

“Moons are so beautiful don’t you think? They allow me to rest in a closeness with you.”

“Okay now I spy, a something that l can use to help see.”

A little light descended from one of the stars that were hanging in place.

I gentle reached for it, and so plucked it from it’s string.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Now I spy with my very large eye, something that is home.”

“Your husband?” Suddenly a stalky figure emerged from behind the tree. His face was covered in a
shadow and he was holding something, with something holding his leg for I couldn’t see it closely or
clearly, but it seemed to sparkle.

“Is that what I think it is!” And I slowly walked over to the figure to which to my surprise was moving in
an obscure way, as almost as if he were flickering.

“I can’t see him now, don’t come any closer.”

“Good, because he can’t.”

“What has him then?”

A long silence bore into my body which begun to feel prickly as I felt the hair on my neck stand on end.

“A trap?”

“Isn’t it a bit late to be out in the wood, dear?” The voice seemed to hiss at me through the hollow
wood.

“I suppose, I’m starting to feel uneasy, whoever you are, please let me go back to my father.”

“Not until you find my ring, and my husband who stepped on your teethy trap.”

“We mean no harm, please I’ll help him just end this!”

“I was only asking for one favour of you, and you got rid of my husbands leg, and now you want to s—s-
s-see your father.” The voice was just beside me, and I didn’t turn but felt something slither alongside
the base of my ear.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you go.”

“Help me father!” I cried when suddenly a massive animal leapt on top of me pinning me to the leafy
mud. I couldn't move around or breath, instead I felt smothered beneath as a heavy body buried
beneath a coat of sharp black hair.

I wrestled with the spikes that brushed my skin. The spikes splintered my skin and pierced my flesh. A
agonizing burn trailed up my my arm, as panic then began to make me weightless. I flung madly to try
and free myself, but too weak I collapsed it and tried to thrash around todostract the monster who
cackled and foamed at the mouth. I stared deep into eight red eyes whose legs caged me, only barely
making out what looked like a snout with fangs, tearing back to cease me in a bite.

“No!”

“Now. You’re mine!” A growl escaped and I roared in fear when I saw nothing but hair and glowing eyes.
I threw my hand over my face with shaking hands like a fleshy shield, fearing they’d be cast in the bowels
of this creature.

It lunged its mouth and suddenly the world spun into darkness as I felt my body cringe when a hot
sickening ooze spread over the crown of my head.

Moaning, I felt the boiling rage of being in death's lonesome trap, the heap of the wretched monster
feasted on top of my body, while my head continued to steam in the brisk winter night.

Then, a loud band ricocheted and broke the silence and a whining and guttural wail could be heard from
the beast. It suddenly began to feel weightless like my breathing, and all together the wound on my
head, the monster, the world and even the pitch black night turned, and a gentle glow and the sound of
crackling dry leaves could be heard approaching me. I reached for my head to feel for the loss of my
blood, and nothing, but a dry and neat crop of hair.

“Get up!” A familiar and urging voice requested me to do.

My eyes shuddered and I felt sick and weak from the struggle. I tried to form words but nothing. I was all
at once sleeping in but puzzled as to why someone had come to my aid.

"Am I? Awake?”

“I found you just in time, the neighbors are looking for you, thank goodness you passed out here and not
in the field. Someone could have stepped on you! I was looking everywhere for you!”

“My eyes opened, and there was my father, holding a baby rabbit whose little eyes blinked down at me,
his paws tucked beneath him.

“I have everyone in town looking for you, you should apologize to them before it gets too late and
people miss their supper. Is that what you want?”

I got up slowly and shook my head.

“No father.”

“Do you know Clark? He’s a friend of someone who says they know you, he’s in a fit trying to find you, I
don’t know him personally but anyway you better go tell him you’re alright.”

“Okay. Sorry for wandering off.”

“And don’t do it again. Think about how your mother would feel!” And with that final warning, I
promised myself to keep this nightmare as a lesson or so, perhaps to write about it to whomever might
believe it.

“I’m waiting.” I was startled at his booming voice.

“Weren’t expecting that we’re you?”

“Yes father!” I yelped and stood as straight as a woman could who had just been sleeping, or so
I thought.

He sniffed the air and looked about him, I wiggled my toes in astonishment. I hadn't been the
least of his worries, but his victor of yet another bad dream. Little pools of tears burned down my
wobbling cheeks.

Finally I burst.

“Father, are you meaning to tell me you didn’t rescue me from that devil creature you saw
having me for dinner?”

“No. You were just sleeping there, what spider? What about it this time?”

I reared my head back and let out a whimper. My heart shattered and bled from within as
it began to pound out of my chest like it had a life of its own. I stamped my feet and curled my
fists to imagine ripping the bloody white rabbit from his tusks as his face bowed in anticipation.

“You don’t look alright Beatrice. Perhaps I’ll leave you here to think, or perhaps you can decide
to live here if you are trying to really get into trouble.”

“Do you blame me for my brother's death?”

His face quivered, and his brow crinkled.

“What’s that got to do with this?”

“Nothing, maybe if I were to cast away from my feelings about it, you’d see him in my place.”

“Now you’re not making sense.”

“I’ll explain. I’m a fish out of water. I can’t fit in anywhere because nothing wants me anymore, I
can’t free myself if I’m always drowning, and nobody cares if I live or die. It just depends on
where the current will take me.”

“Then fight it.”

“I feel so terrible about my brother, mothers death, and Gabrielle.”

“Beatrice, use your head, Gabrielle got sick from our crops, there were parasites that fed and
attracted all sorts of disease, it wasn’t your fault. That’s the risk we make as farmers growing our
own food, some make it, some don’t.”

Tears burst from my eyes and I threw my hands to my face and exploded in gasps.
“The worst was yet to come for my mother, and now they’re after me!”

“Mother died giving birth to your brother and how dare you make this about yourself! No supper
for you, you can walk back alone and think about what you’ve said.”

The world staggered and my vision went dark. The stars came again, this time in a flood to my
face that was a white sheet as I watched the shadow figure of my father disappear into the now
blackened forest.

“I wish you would tell me.” I whispered, and kept my head in a bow, just feeling the hands of the
wind hold me in place, as if begging for more.

The moon was wearing crimson this evening as I felt for the end of the trees. Evergreens
delicately holding snow came fluttering down with each press into new territory.

“I wish Mom was here, she’d know how to convince him to come back, knowing all he’s learned
of survival, how will I make it without him?”

My legs trembled from the lonesome fight against my outburst against my father, how
nature teased and snapped back their stagnant guardianship over my trying and helpless form.
For mother was calm and as rare and as few as a clover field, singing sheep to sleep in a hovel
condensed in a forest glow of love. I too, felt it but rotting in my bones. I then suddenly saw the
village, as I sighed and listened to each laugh leak from the chimneys above. I staggered home,
my coat ripped apart and my hat lost to the forest. I suppose I’d knit one if I was allowed to enter
my home. Father at the ready.

I knocked on the door lamely. And kept my breath hidden as though he were listening through
the keyhole.

“It’s me, Beatrice.” I breathed as the man held it in waiting for him to answer. But nothing came.

“May I come in?” I asked, hesitantly.

“Who is it?” He asked, raising his voice.

I paused and reared back.

“The mail man!” The door creaked open, his brown nose was just poking through.

“I didn’t expect a lot of mail today? What’s the occasion?”

“I have a delivery for you. I grinned, flashing my dirt spotted teeth.”

“I had to dig it up in the field for you because I noticed we’re having rabbit for dinner.”

“Let me see.” He snapped quickly, a precious smile appearing pleasantly on his face.

I procured carrots to level with his eyes, that were lathered in mud, worms sliming over
the bright orange beneath. My head swooned at the sight of his awe and surprise, marked by a
laugh he reached for them.

“Did you wash your hands?” I gritted through my jaw breaking smile.

“Oh, better do that, wait here.” The door closed and the lock turned.

My heart began to burn with a first heat to snap the carrots and chuck them into the
window. I felt ablaze about me, my heart calming when I saw him strut towards the window. The
door welcomed me, with a wreath clinging and shaking in the blasts of wind where I stood like a
statue in a cemetery. The hair raising moans of his humming escaping the cracks of the oak
door.

I held up my fist as if I were about to knock again.

“Well? Come in.” We gestured for me to come, so hesitantly, so gullible I knocked my shoes
from the snow and entered the same scene as was to take place before dinner.

“Mind if you remove your jacket?”

“Not at all.” And so I did.

He reached for the carrots and slipped them from my grip as I cling hard onto them as though I
were about to crush them between my fingers.

“Thank you Beatrice. We’re having stew so I’ll be sure to throw these in, look how juicy they
look!” He exclaimed before marching into the kitchen.

“Any word from, oh what’s his name?”

“Who?” I snapped back.

“You know, Clark? Spider guy? I thought you two were friends?”

“We used to be Dad, back before I met Gabrielle.”

He leaned back around the crooked doorway leading into the hovel where he kept the fire.

“Didn’t he like you at some point?” He barked from the kitchen.

“No. Well, maybe. I’m actually surprised he came looking for me. May I sit down?”

“You may sit.” He seemed to say, as almost in afterthought.

Dinner was quiet enough, without the low winds brushing and waving at me from the warmth of
where I sat.

He slurped his sludge and kept his head very low to his bowl. The stew was too thick for me as I
tried it too as I choked on a thick slice of carrot.

“Any word from your brother?” He asked as he broke from eating.

“You mean his letters? No, we’ll yes there was one I received. He’s not a dad if that’s what you
mean.”

“Well I know THAT Beatrice. I’m just wondering if you had written him back. Maybe he misses
you?”

“Nobody misses me. Not even my mother.”

The ticking on the clock drew on and I couldn’t believe what had slipped from my mouth.
I held on my breath and felt my body’s shaking exterior felt in the fabrics of the cloths relax
about me.I suddenly felt warmer, and the fire burning bright by the door seemed to guard it well,
shadows of the time prior to dinner escorting the memory of my shadow to come in quieter, I let
the moment dance in my head as though I had been submerged under the water.

“Well, you see, what can’t give us what we want, we ask what we need. You don’t need supper,
as you’ve chosen to guide this conversation in such a manner that has disrupted my every
ounce of patience for your ill timing and dissatisfaction with me. I’d say I’ll be taking that now.”

He got up, the wooden chair scrapped the edges along the floor, demanding in its urgent state
to follow direction and act accordingly.

“You think this is a Beatrice game?”

His ears perked up, as I winced when he lifted my plate off the table, I watched as my food
hovered in front of me, departing he rejected my plea for prayer or any sort of attempt to feel in
the least bit great full for his hospitality.

“May I be excused?” Father hummed in the kitchen, and I stared at the projection of the flames
tempers in the creation of shadows dancing on the walls, lulling me to sleep.

“Thank you for dinner, pa,” I decided to call after him, nothing could mean more to me than
supper.”

“You may be excused.” He sighed and let out a yelp, I sat still assuming it was because of the
boiling water or another temperament that needed more adjusting.

“Say, Beatrice. I’ve burnt my hands in this bloody water, I’ll try to do the dishes but I’m going to
be REALLY slow so if you can manage, could you dry while I wash?”

“You need my help?” I perked up.

“Yes—ss.”

“Coming!” I said, hollering.

I bounded towards the kitchen and was caught by something lingering in the corner of
my eye. It stopped me in my place, as a wisp of some kind of shade of dark blue that hung like
an old piece of laundry stood straight up and all at once burned into my memory for I do not
know how long it lasted there, but vanished in a moment I looked away.

I bowed my head and felt my heart skitter and fall faint. I tucked my chin into my wooden
sweater and stood beside my father, whose hands were turning a bright shade of red from the
heat.

“Do you want me to fetch some cold water for your hands?”

“That would be nice, thank you Beatrice. You can just get some snow outside, in a pale and I’ll
soak a tea towel.”

“I hurried out the door and picked up the water jug beside the fire and branded the heat into the
snow, watching the cool water gather at the base of it.”

I looked forward and saw the end of the sky. The night was almost finished, thoughts
could seem to go on forever out in the wild natural world, forgetful as was how the season of
winter almost made me feel. If it weren’t for my father on this night, I’m sure I would have never
made it back alive.

I carried the jug with the melting snow into the kitchen, and dad did as he’d say, and dampened
his hands and turned them over to look at them.

“Do you need a doctor?”

“I think they’ll be okay.” He said bending his fingers and flexing them.

“Do you need me for anything else?”

“No, just do what you want, I’ll be reading soon by the fire, you may go off to bed if you wish.”

Without saying a word I left him alone, pulling at my sleeves in the shallow sense of
communicating I wasn’t certain if that were true of him, or true of me to request. I clutched the
ladder that led up to my attic and thought Gabrielle with each step onto the wooden steps. Not
faltering or deeming me yet safe I kept my eyes upward to search for the platform. When I
crawled to my bed I tucked myself neatly into the ball of sheets and listened for the voice I came
to know as the wind. A gentle breeze tickled my face and there I gazed at the moon’s wise face
was littered with impartial shadows who didn’t move around or make any gesture of life. The
moon was a friend who wore a face captured in awe at all that transpired this day.

“I hope you never betray me, friend. For I enjoy the night over the day.” I muttered, dropping my
voice to a low hum.

Then the sky winked with the passing of a shooting star.

End.