The smells of dahlia's engulfed the entire estate. In the distance, laughter of a small girl, the playful calls of "Daphnie... I see you". The boy would not be far behind. He was tall and slim. His skin was tanned and his hair flowing, the color of night. "Hide Daphnie or I will find you" he would tease as the little girl ran behind bushes and crouched down, her light childish giggles giving away her hiding place. "I got you" the voice would call out as Daphnie's little body was picked up and tickled, her laughter intoxicating. They were the best of friends, Running and playing was all Daphnie knew. Adam was older than she was by at least six years. He was her protector, her only friend. His father tended the horses and his mother Cooked and sewed. They were not mere servants they were family, and to Daphnie, Adam was her big brother. He would read her stories under the tallest and oldest acacia tree on the island. He taught her how to catch frogs and then to set them free for another day. She loved Adam and he loved her.
Her father had brought Miles and Eva back home with him after one of his long trips to the big city. He traveled maybe twice a year to look after some business and bring back gifts for his wofe. Miles was shorter than her father, a big belly and full beard of dark hair. Eva a small, round, plump woman. In her arms a bundle, wrapped in a tattered blue blanket.
Life before the island was never spoken about other than that first night when her mother and father were alone.
"They were driven from their land" her father had said. Wandering along the edge of the dark woods. Nothing but the baby and a small cart with few belongings."
"You did the right thing my love. They will be safe here, this is now their home" mother replied. Her voice was soft and melodic.
For the next six years mother doted on Adam as if he was her own son. While Eva and Miles worked Adam learned how to read and write and the importance of education. She knew he would one day want to leave the island and seek his own destiny and wanted to be sure he was prepared for what she knew awaited him.
Annia was a young, petite, and very beautiful woman. Her hair, white as snow with pink streaks throughout it. Soft green eyes which reflected light outward. Her skin tanned form the sun, her so smile bright that anyone before her would be drawn in to the purity of her soul. Intelligent, and quite powerful her husband had taken her from her life in the city and built the intricate estate he named after her. When he looked over what he had created for her only one word would ever be descriptive of what he felt in his heart. Aimer.
That first day of spring, the flowers poked from their sleep in the fertile ground, the birds songs floating on the warm breeze, the sun shone brighter, yet Annia's brightness was faded. What should have been a day of joy and celebration had turned to one of dread. She would stay in her bed, the curtains drawn, curled up. The tray of scones and juice untouched. Alexander had been away on one of his trips to the city for nearly a full month when the sound of horses hooves would be heard on the graveled path outside the window. She would not run to greet him as she had done every time before and this had not gone unnoticed. He ran into the house and up the winding staircase calling her name in an almost panic. Entering the bedroom he would rush to her side and kneel reaching for her hand.
"My love... What has happened." he would have certainly been met at the dock by Miles if there had been some sort of emergency. "My beautiful Annia, my love... please tell me what has happened." his voice soft and loving.
She would turn to face him, her usually bright green eyes dulled and swollen from crying. She would smile but it would be obvious that is was forced. She led his hand to her belly as the glistening of tears would trail down her cheek. "I am sorry my dear Alexander. Everything is in ruins now"
He would caress her cheek, wiping away the tears. "This is celebratory news my beautiful. Joyous news"
She was content being a second mother to Adam. He had filled the void in her since his arrival and she had been so happy when teaching him, playing with him, loving him as if he was her own. "She will be found, She is in danger already. How can we protect her"
Alexander would slide in next to her and wrap her in his arms as her head lay on his lap. Stroking her long silken hair.. "I will protect her with my last breath my love. Aimer is safe from evil, no one will find her, she will be safe and loved." his voice soothing as was his touch, they would lay for hours, he comforting her.
Friday, June 21, 2019
Friday, April 17, 2015
The Courtship
When they parted the day before Alexander had once more kissed her hand and told her he would see her again very soon. As she set out with her basket in her hand the next day she silently hoped that he would be by the pond, sitting on her bench, waiting. When they had walked the previous day they talked about his dreams of travel and how he liked the countryside and the fresh scents of life , and she of books she had read how to distinguish between ripe, delicious berries and poisonous ones. She tried her best to hide herself from him, not let him see how he had effected her. In the course of a few hours he had stolen her heart. For so long she had closed it off. since her father's death she never allowed anyone in, she feared the pain would kill her if she did. She had no friends growing up although when she had accompanied her grandmother into the village other children would run up to her and ask her to play she just held tightly to her grandmothers hand and smiled. She was resolute in not letting anyone into her heart but this man had managed to do just that.
As she reached the bench she felt a sudden sadness, he wasn't there waiting for her like she had hoped. She sat on her bench and looked out over the water as the ripples glistened as the sun rose above the trees.
Her grandmother was not a fortune teller but when it came to Annia she seemed to know what was in her future. They had a connection, something unique that she had felt with her daughter. It was this connection that led her to make that promise seventeen years before. That sense of her fathers fate, why she pack her bag and moved into the house with her those years ago. and why she packed them up and moved to the edge of the forest. When Annia returned home, giddy and smiling grandmother was filled with Annia's joy. She had been waiting for her in an old rocker on the small front porch. She could hear singing that she had not heard since before that day.
Six months had gone by and Annia and Alexander spent every morning together. He would ride out before sunrise, His father believed he was tending to the workers, his mother, however, could see the look in his eye. He was in love. He would saddle up his horse himself, as not to draw the attention f his father, and he would ride out, stopping each time to pick one of the large pink flowers from the garden at the end of the path leading to the gate. She would always be waiting for him, on that bench which now embellished a new carving. "AA" centered in a heart was carved deep into the center of the seat, the letters flourished much as her name was on the old chest she kept in her room. They would sit and talk and laugh as the sun rose. The birds would appear as if they sang to them, for them, because of them. They would walk through the trees picking berries and herbs and laugh. This day however was special. The basket was filled with honey berries when he suddenly went quiet. Stopping she would turn and gaze lovingly into his eyes. Her green eyes glittering brighter as she was filled with such happiness each time she was near him but there was something more emanating from him this morning. He would gaze into her eyes as he lowered himself to his knee and took her hand. She could feel her face flush and would lower her eyes to meet his.
As she reached the bench she felt a sudden sadness, he wasn't there waiting for her like she had hoped. She sat on her bench and looked out over the water as the ripples glistened as the sun rose above the trees.
Her grandmother was not a fortune teller but when it came to Annia she seemed to know what was in her future. They had a connection, something unique that she had felt with her daughter. It was this connection that led her to make that promise seventeen years before. That sense of her fathers fate, why she pack her bag and moved into the house with her those years ago. and why she packed them up and moved to the edge of the forest. When Annia returned home, giddy and smiling grandmother was filled with Annia's joy. She had been waiting for her in an old rocker on the small front porch. She could hear singing that she had not heard since before that day.
"Grandmother.. " she would call out as she ran toward the house..."I am in love" twirling with her arms out "I have met him, Just as you told me I would"
Annia danced into and around the house singing as she rinsed and dried the berries and placed the fresh cut flowers in the vase on the small table. "He said I was beautiful, and kissed my hand." she would twirl herself back outside and kneel by her grandmother. "He is handsome and rode the most glorious white stallion."
Grandmother just smiled and kept rocking slowly in that chair that would make the old boards creak with each pass. "Then you tell him to come and speak with me". Annia's future was beginning to unfold and she only hoped she had prepared her for that future
Six months had gone by and Annia and Alexander spent every morning together. He would ride out before sunrise, His father believed he was tending to the workers, his mother, however, could see the look in his eye. He was in love. He would saddle up his horse himself, as not to draw the attention f his father, and he would ride out, stopping each time to pick one of the large pink flowers from the garden at the end of the path leading to the gate. She would always be waiting for him, on that bench which now embellished a new carving. "AA" centered in a heart was carved deep into the center of the seat, the letters flourished much as her name was on the old chest she kept in her room. They would sit and talk and laugh as the sun rose. The birds would appear as if they sang to them, for them, because of them. They would walk through the trees picking berries and herbs and laugh. This day however was special. The basket was filled with honey berries when he suddenly went quiet. Stopping she would turn and gaze lovingly into his eyes. Her green eyes glittering brighter as she was filled with such happiness each time she was near him but there was something more emanating from him this morning. He would gaze into her eyes as he lowered himself to his knee and took her hand. She could feel her face flush and would lower her eyes to meet his.
"My Annia, my love..." he would swallow and stutter slightly. "It was like yesterday that your beauty captured my heart, My heart drowning in your song, I carry your heart in my heart, your eyes in my eyes, your love in each breath I take. " Before he could utter another word she would fall to her knees
"Yes... Yes my love Yes" Tears of pure joy would caress down her cheek as she leaned in.She had known who his father was and what his father had done since that first day, but this didn't matter to her, she knew this man's heart from the moment placed that kiss on her hand. She knew he was different from The Family and for that reason, only a few days later that that she had brought him to meet her grandmother. The old woman saw what Annia had seen in the young man and gave them her blessing and insisted that they remain secretive for fear of their lives.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Mother
Her father was a woodworker, she never knew her mother as she had died in childbirth. He had a built a small house far outside the village for them, in the barn, shared with one old horse, he would create the most inspiring pieces of furniture and wood sculptures. Little Annia would stand by him and hold his brushes and polishing cloths. She loved her father and thought the sun rose every day because of him, In kind, she was his world, his inspiration in every thing he created. Once every few months a horse drawn carriage would come up to the shed and Annia would be sent to the house each time. Although she was a very curious child she did what she was told. She would sit and watch from the window as, with each visit, he would carry out a small table or a pair of chairs, all but this time. She could see him speaking to whomever was in the carriage, scratching notes on a scrap piece of wood with a piece of charcoal and as he stepped back he would nod and bow just before the carriage moved away. This was the usual dance each time. As the carriage drove off he walked back to the house and ruffled Annia's hair as they went inside for lunch..
From the day she was born, her grandmother would make the long walk from the edge of the forest, where she lived in a small home of her own. She knew how hard it would be for her son-in-law to raise a baby alone and had promised her daughter that she would watch over her baby. "What did he want this time" she would ask as she placed the stew on the table.
He would serve, placing a generous spoonful in each bowl and tear off a piece of the fresh bread and hand it to Annia. "A box." he would take a piece of bread for himself and look up at her and shake his head slightly. "He made me swear to not tell anyone about it." he would eat and lower his eyes toward the bowl.
Annia would imitate her father when he took a bit, she took a bite, If he wiped his mouth, she would do the same. Usually this amused him and made him laugh but not this day. This day everything changed. She was like her mother, she could feel his emotions, smell the change in the air around him but she was too young to understand why.
He had tethered his horse by a tree and took a canteen from his saddle bag. As he drank he would hear singing. Capping the canteen and replacing it in the satchel he wandered toward the beautiful voice. This is when he would see her for the first time. The beauty in the lake, The glinting of sunlight as it surrounded her, skin like porcelain, hair like the snow capped mountain. Was he dreaming? he would think to himself as he hid behind the large bush of the Honey Berry. The plant was at least five feet tall and kept him well hidden. He watched with great admiration as floated in clear water and slowly out of his view. It was then that he leaned forward trying to regain sight of her, that he lost his footing and fell into the bush.
From the day she was born, her grandmother would make the long walk from the edge of the forest, where she lived in a small home of her own. She knew how hard it would be for her son-in-law to raise a baby alone and had promised her daughter that she would watch over her baby. "What did he want this time" she would ask as she placed the stew on the table.
He would serve, placing a generous spoonful in each bowl and tear off a piece of the fresh bread and hand it to Annia. "A box." he would take a piece of bread for himself and look up at her and shake his head slightly. "He made me swear to not tell anyone about it." he would eat and lower his eyes toward the bowl.
Annia would imitate her father when he took a bit, she took a bite, If he wiped his mouth, she would do the same. Usually this amused him and made him laugh but not this day. This day everything changed. She was like her mother, she could feel his emotions, smell the change in the air around him but she was too young to understand why.
For the next month he would work night and day in the barn. Her grandmother, at this point, had all but moved into the house to care for them both. "Annia. Take this plate to your father" she would call out. Annia had looked forward to this time of day as she missed helping him, holding his brushes, missed being asked if she thought it was done or her opinion. Each time she would come close... "Annia, leave the plate on the bench and go back in the house" he would say every time before she could see him or what he was working on. She complied and ran back to her grandmother with the saddest face a happy child could possess. She missed him, she had not seen him, not hugged him, he didn't tuck her into bed and tell her stories anymore.
"Grandmother? Why won't father let me help.. I am a good helper, he has told me so." she would cry to her
"He is working on something special for The Family. It must be exact and perfect." she would reply before changing the subject. "Let's make you a new dress." stroking the girls hair. "We will make it pink to match your hair, would you like that?"
Annia's bright green eyes would brighten as she smiled. "Yes Grandmother, very much"Days went by and she had become the helper to her grandmother as she had been to her father. Gathering the ingredients for supper, picking herbs and flowers, anything that was asked of her she did with a mile. The dress was beautiful, pink with lace and she couldn't wait to show her father. The day the carriage returned she would put on her dress as her grandmother braided her long hair. As the carriage rolled up she stepped out the front door of the house so that he could see her and be happy. She watched him walk out of the barn carrying the large wooden box. She knew he would be sore if he had seen her but she wanted to see it so much that she moved closer, staying behind some overgrown bushes. As he approached the carriage door would open, she could not see inside but could hear a mans voice. "Is it as I instructed?" the voice would grumble. Her father only answered with a soft "Yes Sire" and held it out to him and bowed his head. Then the man stepped from the carriage, He was tall, dressed in black with a cloak which shadowed his face. This was the first time she felt it. A coldness, the taste of something rancid in the air. She would notice the look on her fathers face from her angle of vision; fear. His head still bowed as the man said "Show me" with that her father pulled on the small figurine on top of the lid then spun it twice. The front panel popped open showing a hidden drawer. "Very good the man would say once more in a deep unemotional tone. The man took the box and pushed the drawer back and closed the placed the figure back in its original position and climbed back into the carriage then tossed a gold coin on the ground at her fathers feet. Her father had lifted his head. "It was agreed Five gold sire" with those words she heard a grumble and then saw a darkness emanate from the window of the carriage and envelop her father. By the time she ran out of her hiding spot the carriage was gone as was the cloud.
"Father, Father" she would cry she saw as his body crumpled to the ground.
Grandmother came running from the house, she knew what had happened and cradled Annia in her arms as he lay on the ground staring at the sky silent.
It was nearly a week since the her father had fallen into his waking sleep when his eyes closed for the last time. Annia had sat by his bedside in her new pink dress day and night, she lay her head on his chest and sing to him, stroke his hand, tell him the stories that he used to tell her every night. The news traveled fast throughout the village and people came to pay their respects and help bury him. They all knew what had happened, The Family had done this, for whatever reason, was unimportant as most of the pain they inflicted was for their own amusement it seemed. Heartbroken over her father's death she and her grandmother packed up their belongings, as little as there were, and left the home which they had been so happy in. The small cottage on the outskirts of the forest was remote and far from any sight of the looming castle on the hill, which was once a awe-filled sight, but now was a remineder of grief and pain. The cottage consisted of one large room with a divider which allowed her grandmother some privacy and a loft which Annia used as her own space. In the corner was a trunk made of carved wood that her father had made for her when she was born, her name adorned the lid in fancy letters. This is where she kept her most precious things; an old sketch of her mother, the brushes she once held out to her father as she watched him work and that pink dress she wore that dread filled day. She had locked all of these items away along with a few more keepsakes that she had found among her fathers belongings before everything was sold off to strangers.
It was nearly a week since the her father had fallen into his waking sleep when his eyes closed for the last time. Annia had sat by his bedside in her new pink dress day and night, she lay her head on his chest and sing to him, stroke his hand, tell him the stories that he used to tell her every night. The news traveled fast throughout the village and people came to pay their respects and help bury him. They all knew what had happened, The Family had done this, for whatever reason, was unimportant as most of the pain they inflicted was for their own amusement it seemed. Heartbroken over her father's death she and her grandmother packed up their belongings, as little as there were, and left the home which they had been so happy in. The small cottage on the outskirts of the forest was remote and far from any sight of the looming castle on the hill, which was once a awe-filled sight, but now was a remineder of grief and pain. The cottage consisted of one large room with a divider which allowed her grandmother some privacy and a loft which Annia used as her own space. In the corner was a trunk made of carved wood that her father had made for her when she was born, her name adorned the lid in fancy letters. This is where she kept her most precious things; an old sketch of her mother, the brushes she once held out to her father as she watched him work and that pink dress she wore that dread filled day. She had locked all of these items away along with a few more keepsakes that she had found among her fathers belongings before everything was sold off to strangers.
As Annia grew up she would find happiness in the fond memories, the sadness buried in that trunk. Grandmother was an old woman now and ventured beyond the front porch so infrequently. She would send her out to collect herbs and flowers from the woods, berries and water from the nearby spring. She was being taught how to use nature to mix everything from poultices to simple potions.
"You my darling are a natural" her grandmother would tell her each day.. "Learn well and you will one day be a force of your own."
"Yes Grandmother" was all she would ever say in reply. She loved her grandmother and would do anything that was needed. Without her Annia would have no one and that time was nearing as time took its toll on her.Each day, as the sun rose, she would take the woven basket and venture out into the woods. This was her favorite time of the day as she would think of her father, his smile the one thing she could remember clearly about him after these ten years. Long ago she had dragged a small wooden bench he had made and placed it by the stream. It was here that she would listen to the birds in the tall trees and dream of one day traveling to the city. It was this day she slip from her simple dress and hang it on a nearby branch and swim. The water as blue as the sky, so clear as to see the small fish which swam around her almost playfully. This was her private place where no one else ventured.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He had tethered his horse by a tree and took a canteen from his saddle bag. As he drank he would hear singing. Capping the canteen and replacing it in the satchel he wandered toward the beautiful voice. This is when he would see her for the first time. The beauty in the lake, The glinting of sunlight as it surrounded her, skin like porcelain, hair like the snow capped mountain. Was he dreaming? he would think to himself as he hid behind the large bush of the Honey Berry. The plant was at least five feet tall and kept him well hidden. He watched with great admiration as floated in clear water and slowly out of his view. It was then that he leaned forward trying to regain sight of her, that he lost his footing and fell into the bush.
"Who is there" she called out as she fought to cover herself with her arms. She would try to scramble to the bank where her dress hung... "Who is there." she would repeat a bit louder with a small thread of nervousness in her voice.
Getting to his feet, he would avert his eyes "A friend" he would respond, not knowing how else to classify himself. "I was... I was picking berries" would be his follow up explanation. Stepping out farther, his head turned and eyes averted as she stumbled out of the water and pulled the dress over her body he would almost chastise himself for such an obvious lie of an excuse for him watching her.
"Then turn and face me sir." she had dressed and stood steady as she would try her best to sound firm and directed. "Do you plan on baking a pie perhaps? I see no basket in your arms" She was unhappy that her solitude had been disturbed.
He smiled and took a step closer to her. Slowly he would reach out and take hold of her hand, placing a kiss from upon her silken skin with a bow. "I am Alexander. My apologies for startling you miss"
Her hair wet and plastered to her face. Her dress soaking up the water from her skin would drip to the ground but as he turned she would look at him her eyes would soften as she could almost see into him, see a kindness she had not known since she was a child. She would feel her cheeks flush a bit as he kissed her hand, this was foreign to her. She had little to no interaction with men, except those lecherous old men in the village who she would see on occasion when she went to gather supplies. "I am Annia" is all she could manage to speak.
"A beautiful name for a most beautiful girl"
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Father
His family line could be traced back to what seemed like the origins of all men. The men ruled not only their lands but those that worked it for nothing more than the gift to remain living. Male children were expected to follow suit while the girls were taught, from early on, their one station in life was pleasure to whomever was chosen for a husband regardless of themselves. As far back as the history could go there were stories of the family holding great power. A magical curse some would whisper, but a great and powerful evil some others would tell. Elon was no different and at age 21 was given a local beauty, a daughter of a farmer who worked the families land. for his wife.
His mother, a mere mortal compared to The Family, a beautiful woman, a daughter of a farmer, made sure that her son would grow up to stand apart from the men who compelled others to worship their power. She was traded in exchange of a small plot of land for which the farmer would now own, under the control of the family of course but a small plot of land which could use as he wished. The day of the trade was finalized, that once bright smile would be filled with a sweet sadness. She loved her father but would never wish the life she was about to be provided on anyone. She had dreams of her own, but she knew what she must do in order for her parents and siblings to have a future and would unselfishly sacrifice those dreams for them. Her new husband provided her with everything a young bride could ever want except the one thing she craved above anything else, love. The finest clothing and jewels would make any girl swoon and she would smile and feign joy but deep inside she was sad and lonely, her heart felt like it was withering. She always had that forced smile on her face, for anything other than that would be met with an open hand to her face and possibly worse. He took what he wanted from her when he wanted it and to deny him would only further her emotional and physical pain she had endured. She had no one to talk with, the servants provided were afraid of the man of the house and kept their eyes down and mouths shut. The day she found out she was to have a child filled her with hope, she vowed to herself she would make sure her child would not be infected by his father as her husband had been by his. The day Alexander was born she smiled for what felt like the first time in her life. Her heart filled with love and she knew that he was special, that he would be the one to break this tradition of evil and greed.
By Alexander's 18th birthday all his mothers dreams had become a reality.He had grown into a kind and altruistic man. Tall and slim, tanned skin which accented his sandy blonde hair, he walked with confidence which would attract those around him. He had broken the mold of what The Family embodied. He would take his horse and ride through the land, stopping to speak with those who worked on the farms field for his father. He always had a gift of candies for the children and a single, freshly cut dahlia from the garden his mother tended daily. The beautiful pink flower was a gift for one woman, the girl he loved, Annia. She lived with her grandmother beyond the edge of the fields. He had seen her picking herbs one day and was instantly mesmerized by her beauty. This was when he started his daily rides through the lands, his father believing he was making sure work was done, as his mother had been insistent that he not allow his father to see his kindness, he was to act like any other man of The Family in his presence. Every day Alexander would ride to see his Annia, presenting her with the flower. He wanted to marry her but she knew his father would not allow it. He would rather see his son dead before allowing a woman like her into his home. She was special, a witch some called her as they pointed and sneered as she and her elderly grandmother walked the village but Alexander didn't care, he loved her and would find a way for them to be together.
His mother, a mere mortal compared to The Family, a beautiful woman, a daughter of a farmer, made sure that her son would grow up to stand apart from the men who compelled others to worship their power. She was traded in exchange of a small plot of land for which the farmer would now own, under the control of the family of course but a small plot of land which could use as he wished. The day of the trade was finalized, that once bright smile would be filled with a sweet sadness. She loved her father but would never wish the life she was about to be provided on anyone. She had dreams of her own, but she knew what she must do in order for her parents and siblings to have a future and would unselfishly sacrifice those dreams for them. Her new husband provided her with everything a young bride could ever want except the one thing she craved above anything else, love. The finest clothing and jewels would make any girl swoon and she would smile and feign joy but deep inside she was sad and lonely, her heart felt like it was withering. She always had that forced smile on her face, for anything other than that would be met with an open hand to her face and possibly worse. He took what he wanted from her when he wanted it and to deny him would only further her emotional and physical pain she had endured. She had no one to talk with, the servants provided were afraid of the man of the house and kept their eyes down and mouths shut. The day she found out she was to have a child filled her with hope, she vowed to herself she would make sure her child would not be infected by his father as her husband had been by his. The day Alexander was born she smiled for what felt like the first time in her life. Her heart filled with love and she knew that he was special, that he would be the one to break this tradition of evil and greed.
By Alexander's 18th birthday all his mothers dreams had become a reality.He had grown into a kind and altruistic man. Tall and slim, tanned skin which accented his sandy blonde hair, he walked with confidence which would attract those around him. He had broken the mold of what The Family embodied. He would take his horse and ride through the land, stopping to speak with those who worked on the farms field for his father. He always had a gift of candies for the children and a single, freshly cut dahlia from the garden his mother tended daily. The beautiful pink flower was a gift for one woman, the girl he loved, Annia. She lived with her grandmother beyond the edge of the fields. He had seen her picking herbs one day and was instantly mesmerized by her beauty. This was when he started his daily rides through the lands, his father believing he was making sure work was done, as his mother had been insistent that he not allow his father to see his kindness, he was to act like any other man of The Family in his presence. Every day Alexander would ride to see his Annia, presenting her with the flower. He wanted to marry her but she knew his father would not allow it. He would rather see his son dead before allowing a woman like her into his home. She was special, a witch some called her as they pointed and sneered as she and her elderly grandmother walked the village but Alexander didn't care, he loved her and would find a way for them to be together.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Loss , Love, and Fear, and Loneliness
As I sat with my dear friend Desideria, Desi as we call her, and King Markus himself outside the Inn in Mythos two of his daughters appeared. It was not a week ago that during the annual Wickerman Festival that his daughter Lilac was called as a sacrifice to the land. Some feel that she was not called as much as she sacrificed herself in an extreme way of committing suicide. Illyra and Micarla held nothing back placing blame upon the King for Lilacs death.
What does this have to do with me you might ask? Well, it was the obvious love for a family member and the anger that they held inside that dug deep into my memories. The memory of the murder of my parents and my dearest brother Adam. It is not the same as I was so very young at the time, maybe 6 or 7 years old when this happened. But the anger that they felt at the loss of Lilac was confusing to me as I knew nothing of anger just the quiet and loneliness of being alone. Perhaps I should start with what I do remember of my family, which is not very much unfortunately. The memories would come back to me as pictures in an album, so much is jumbled and it has taken much concentration to be able to organize the thoughts and pictures.
As I remember I see a slightly slimmer, shorter version of myself run through the garden after a small rabbit. I hear what I can only assume as my father's voice calling to me "Daphnie, come give this pot of beans to your mother." I can see ahead of me a tall stocky man with a thick beard and pale blue eyes as I approach him skipping and humming he hands me a cast iron pot filled to the rim with beans from the garden. I can hear my own voice answering as I grip the handle of the pot "Yes Father". As I take the pot I can feel his calloused hands and smell the the fresh pods of beans as I carry it into the small cottage. My father had built the stone and timber home when we had arrived in this place, The images of he and my brother working tirelessly through the chilly evenings. As I skipped into the large room holding out the pot toward a short lady with dark hair by the fire, her dark hair and eyes.
As I recall these memories i also see and feel joy and love. Even though I am not an empath, I do recognize the emotions. I was a happy child, or at least I was until that morning I awoke alone in my bed covered in a pink silk blanket cuddling a worn out stuffed frog. I remember that morning like it was yesterday, How no one was there to greet me with breakfast, how the absence of the aroma of my mothers perfume was nearly haunting. I remember climbing up on a chair reaching a box of grains off the shelf pouring them into a pot with some water placing the handle of the pot on the hook which hung from the stone above the fireplace. I was convinced they would return shortly as the fire still burned. I ate what I had cooked for myself and sat at the window waiting, Night fell as I had curled up with a blanket still by the window until i finally had fallen asleep. It was the next morning I learned what true fear and loneliness was.
I may have been young but was strong. My brother had taken me out hunting with him, against the wishes of my parents, but I learned how to gather food, what roots to dig and what fruits were edible and which ones were not. At first I wouldn't stray to far from the small house knowing they would be back, that they would never leave me alone. But hours turned to days which then turned to a weeks, I was truly alone and somewhere in my mind I knew this as truth. The grain was gone and the garden had gone untended for too long and I knew I would have to venture further into the woods to search for something to eat. I remember following a path my brother had shown me and remember his instructions never to stray from it but I was hungry and food did not grow on the worn path I would have to go against his teachings. That morning was warm as I recall and i spotted the wild gallus birds and knew their nests should yield eggs. Mother had taught me how to cook them, as every spring father would bring a basket with him from his wanderings. I remember wandering far down the worn path, far from home before coming upon a small clearing in the trees. It is then that I found them. My mother, father and dearest brother Adam. From a distance they appeared to be sleeping but it was not until I moved closer that i realized this was not entirely true. They were lying among dried leaves. From that point on all I remember is screaming and running. I ran through the woods as fast as I could barely stopping at all until I realized I was truly lost. No sign of the path, the sunlight barely visible through the trees.
My next memory was of waking as the sun began to shine, curled up in a patch of tall grass. They were dead, never to return. Mother had told me stories of her parents, as how they had died, sleeping to never wake again. This is what had happened to her family. They were to sleep and never wake.
Linking back to the events of last night I felt saddened as if I was losing my family all over again. Until recently Lady had been my entire family and then Emerald and Vlad. The King Markus and the Family Labyrinthe was my family now as Emerald has not returned and possibly will never return Lady and Vlad will always be but in some way these events triggered something in me, I knew it was time for me to learn who I was, to find something of my own.
What does this have to do with me you might ask? Well, it was the obvious love for a family member and the anger that they held inside that dug deep into my memories. The memory of the murder of my parents and my dearest brother Adam. It is not the same as I was so very young at the time, maybe 6 or 7 years old when this happened. But the anger that they felt at the loss of Lilac was confusing to me as I knew nothing of anger just the quiet and loneliness of being alone. Perhaps I should start with what I do remember of my family, which is not very much unfortunately. The memories would come back to me as pictures in an album, so much is jumbled and it has taken much concentration to be able to organize the thoughts and pictures.
As I remember I see a slightly slimmer, shorter version of myself run through the garden after a small rabbit. I hear what I can only assume as my father's voice calling to me "Daphnie, come give this pot of beans to your mother." I can see ahead of me a tall stocky man with a thick beard and pale blue eyes as I approach him skipping and humming he hands me a cast iron pot filled to the rim with beans from the garden. I can hear my own voice answering as I grip the handle of the pot "Yes Father". As I take the pot I can feel his calloused hands and smell the the fresh pods of beans as I carry it into the small cottage. My father had built the stone and timber home when we had arrived in this place, The images of he and my brother working tirelessly through the chilly evenings. As I skipped into the large room holding out the pot toward a short lady with dark hair by the fire, her dark hair and eyes.
As I recall these memories i also see and feel joy and love. Even though I am not an empath, I do recognize the emotions. I was a happy child, or at least I was until that morning I awoke alone in my bed covered in a pink silk blanket cuddling a worn out stuffed frog. I remember that morning like it was yesterday, How no one was there to greet me with breakfast, how the absence of the aroma of my mothers perfume was nearly haunting. I remember climbing up on a chair reaching a box of grains off the shelf pouring them into a pot with some water placing the handle of the pot on the hook which hung from the stone above the fireplace. I was convinced they would return shortly as the fire still burned. I ate what I had cooked for myself and sat at the window waiting, Night fell as I had curled up with a blanket still by the window until i finally had fallen asleep. It was the next morning I learned what true fear and loneliness was.
I may have been young but was strong. My brother had taken me out hunting with him, against the wishes of my parents, but I learned how to gather food, what roots to dig and what fruits were edible and which ones were not. At first I wouldn't stray to far from the small house knowing they would be back, that they would never leave me alone. But hours turned to days which then turned to a weeks, I was truly alone and somewhere in my mind I knew this as truth. The grain was gone and the garden had gone untended for too long and I knew I would have to venture further into the woods to search for something to eat. I remember following a path my brother had shown me and remember his instructions never to stray from it but I was hungry and food did not grow on the worn path I would have to go against his teachings. That morning was warm as I recall and i spotted the wild gallus birds and knew their nests should yield eggs. Mother had taught me how to cook them, as every spring father would bring a basket with him from his wanderings. I remember wandering far down the worn path, far from home before coming upon a small clearing in the trees. It is then that I found them. My mother, father and dearest brother Adam. From a distance they appeared to be sleeping but it was not until I moved closer that i realized this was not entirely true. They were lying among dried leaves. From that point on all I remember is screaming and running. I ran through the woods as fast as I could barely stopping at all until I realized I was truly lost. No sign of the path, the sunlight barely visible through the trees.
My next memory was of waking as the sun began to shine, curled up in a patch of tall grass. They were dead, never to return. Mother had told me stories of her parents, as how they had died, sleeping to never wake again. This is what had happened to her family. They were to sleep and never wake.
Linking back to the events of last night I felt saddened as if I was losing my family all over again. Until recently Lady had been my entire family and then Emerald and Vlad. The King Markus and the Family Labyrinthe was my family now as Emerald has not returned and possibly will never return Lady and Vlad will always be but in some way these events triggered something in me, I knew it was time for me to learn who I was, to find something of my own.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Dreams of my childhood
As I doze off at my desk writing my thoughts and memories a recurring dream forms in my mind...
Laughter and giggles filled the grounds. A young girl of 4 years, her long platinum braids flopping behind her as skips and runs through gardens. A woman's voice is heard calling " Daphnie, come here child". Smiling, her bright green eyes shimmering in the sun, she turns and runs toward the voice.
A tall and beautiful lady with long platinum hair dusted with slight pink highlights and bright green eyes greets her with a hug and a kiss on her forehead, takes her hand and whisks her toward a door and down a long dark stairway. The child, skipping as she holds the hand of this woman Walking beside her, meanders briskly through the damp passageway lit only by the shimmering light of lanterns. The bright sunshine slowly beginning to appear ahead, the sound of horses clanging their bridles can be heard. The whispers of familiar voices can be heard as Daphnie pulls away from the hand holding hers. Running toward them, laughing and giggling. She is greeted by a tall, bearded man, swept up into his arms and placed in the carriage. Another kiss on the forehead and a brush on her cheek. The door of the carriage is closed and latched as voices can be heard softly outside.
As she reaches forward grabbing her favorite stuffed toy a woman and boy climb in beside her. "It's Ok Daphnie, you are going to come with us" the boy says. "Father and Mother are going to start a new life for us, you will see it will be great". Daphnie places her tiny hand in his, looks up at his smiling face she leans over placing her head on his lap. The sound of a whip cracking can be heard as a mans voice shouts "Ya, Yah" as the carriage pulls away with a heavy jerk. The carriage travels through the night as the horses pull with all of their might and speed. Daphnie, her head still on the lap of the boy sleeps, hugging tightly to her stuffed toy.
Upon daybreak she wakes to find herself alone, laying on the seat. As she lifts her head and peers around, hushed voices can be heard as the smell of a fire and food helps her wake... The carriage door opens to the smile of a small dark haired woman who lifts her from the carriage placing her on her feet, walking her over to the tent where she smiles at the boy who held her hand. Not saying a word, yet smiling as she reaches for his hand once again. From behind the tent a strong man dressed in dark cotton pants and a light woven top. "we will make our home through those woods there," he states,"on the other side of the tree line, we won't be detected there".
As I wake the vision of the bearded man and the the woman with the melodic voice haunts me as it seems to have done every night
Laughter and giggles filled the grounds. A young girl of 4 years, her long platinum braids flopping behind her as skips and runs through gardens. A woman's voice is heard calling " Daphnie, come here child". Smiling, her bright green eyes shimmering in the sun, she turns and runs toward the voice.
A tall and beautiful lady with long platinum hair dusted with slight pink highlights and bright green eyes greets her with a hug and a kiss on her forehead, takes her hand and whisks her toward a door and down a long dark stairway. The child, skipping as she holds the hand of this woman Walking beside her, meanders briskly through the damp passageway lit only by the shimmering light of lanterns. The bright sunshine slowly beginning to appear ahead, the sound of horses clanging their bridles can be heard. The whispers of familiar voices can be heard as Daphnie pulls away from the hand holding hers. Running toward them, laughing and giggling. She is greeted by a tall, bearded man, swept up into his arms and placed in the carriage. Another kiss on the forehead and a brush on her cheek. The door of the carriage is closed and latched as voices can be heard softly outside.
As she reaches forward grabbing her favorite stuffed toy a woman and boy climb in beside her. "It's Ok Daphnie, you are going to come with us" the boy says. "Father and Mother are going to start a new life for us, you will see it will be great". Daphnie places her tiny hand in his, looks up at his smiling face she leans over placing her head on his lap. The sound of a whip cracking can be heard as a mans voice shouts "Ya, Yah" as the carriage pulls away with a heavy jerk. The carriage travels through the night as the horses pull with all of their might and speed. Daphnie, her head still on the lap of the boy sleeps, hugging tightly to her stuffed toy.
Upon daybreak she wakes to find herself alone, laying on the seat. As she lifts her head and peers around, hushed voices can be heard as the smell of a fire and food helps her wake... The carriage door opens to the smile of a small dark haired woman who lifts her from the carriage placing her on her feet, walking her over to the tent where she smiles at the boy who held her hand. Not saying a word, yet smiling as she reaches for his hand once again. From behind the tent a strong man dressed in dark cotton pants and a light woven top. "we will make our home through those woods there," he states,"on the other side of the tree line, we won't be detected there".
As I wake the vision of the bearded man and the the woman with the melodic voice haunts me as it seems to have done every night
Preface
As I write and chronicle my life I am forced to reach back into what memories I can grasp. Why now some may ask, what has brought on the urge to keep a diary, to write an autobiography so to speak? It has all to do with the love of my life, a man who many deemed dangerous to me. The search that had ended with me becoming a hermit, locking myself away from the world, from the ones who loved me, from the pain of heartbreak. In my self seclusion my mind would only have memories to keep me company. Many of those memories were like flashes of light in a night sky but one moment seemed to be the trigger to the flood gates opening, the impending delivery of a trunk.
That day in the desert tavern when a stranger approached, a tall red headed man who was intrigued with the color of my hair. Something familiar he said. A feeling of comfort and protectiveness like no other came over me. As you who reads this will clearly see why this is an important moment. Weeks had gone by and many conversations were had impelling him to quest for some answers on my behalf.
Not three months after that initial meeting, he had returned from his long quest bearing a sack of fruits and berries reminiscent of what was once the only home I knew. With him, and his apprentice, was also an old wooden chest which had yet to be unloaded from the ship. There have been many occasions to which he could have given the chest and it's secretive contents to me but, i suppose, in my own fear of opening deep wounds I had avoided the chest, delving into what would be found, the inevitable.
These memories are what now lead me to chronicle what I remember, for my children, so maybe one day they would understand why I had to leave them so early in their lives
That day in the desert tavern when a stranger approached, a tall red headed man who was intrigued with the color of my hair. Something familiar he said. A feeling of comfort and protectiveness like no other came over me. As you who reads this will clearly see why this is an important moment. Weeks had gone by and many conversations were had impelling him to quest for some answers on my behalf.
Not three months after that initial meeting, he had returned from his long quest bearing a sack of fruits and berries reminiscent of what was once the only home I knew. With him, and his apprentice, was also an old wooden chest which had yet to be unloaded from the ship. There have been many occasions to which he could have given the chest and it's secretive contents to me but, i suppose, in my own fear of opening deep wounds I had avoided the chest, delving into what would be found, the inevitable.
These memories are what now lead me to chronicle what I remember, for my children, so maybe one day they would understand why I had to leave them so early in their lives
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