The Forgotten Memory--part 2

After being on her feet for about a quarter of an hour Fern grew tired.

“Will you set me down?” her voice was even softer than usual with exhaustion. “But please, in a chair. I want to stay out of that bed for as long as possible.”

We placed her in the high backed chair at the desk and went about preparing the evening meal.

Mistress Chervil...who ended up looking considerably

 

 

 

younger than I had intended.

“Now that you're up, Val will have to lend you one of her dresses as well as the nightgown of hers you are already wearing.” Mistress Chervil chatted to her.

“I am wearing your night gown?” Her brow puckered. “Forgive me. I did not know.”

“Oh, that is alright!” I was chopping up some potatoes for soup. “I have another one. But I am afraid none of my dresses will fit you very well. You are rather taller than I.”

“I hate to wear your clothes Valerian. I mean,” she bit her lip and looked at the floor. “no offense. I just do not like having to borrow things you might need.”

“No worries.” I dumped the diced tubers into the kettle over the hearth. “I have three.”

“Thank you.” she turned quietly away and rested her arms on the top of the desk.

After Fern had been up for several days, Mistress Chervil suggested moving her into my bedroom so that the patient bed, which resided in the common room, would once again be available in case of emergency.

“I will have Master Conifer fashion you a bed.” my mistress offered.

“I thank you. I am sorry to cost you. Perhaps I can help with some of Valerian's responsibilities in exchange?”

“Nonsense.” Mistress Chervil chided. “You are not strong enough yet. Besides that a bed will cost me nothing. Conifer owes me for birthing his wife a month ago.”

Besides being the Darag Village carpenter Master Conifer was also the town gossip. Less than an hour after the last nail had been pounded into Fern's bed and Master Conifer had left a visitor came puffing up the hill.

Elder Maple, a white haired lady who was grandmother to half of the village tapped on the door frame. “I heard the girl was up and came to pay my respects.” she nodded to Mistress Chervil.

Fern was still in my room, admiring her bed and thus out of hearing.

“Is it true?” Elder Maple sidled close to Mistress Chervil and lowered her voice. “She can't remember a thing?”

“It is true I am afraid.” my mistress nodded.

“And that she is pale? And blue eyed?” Elder Maple glanced pensively towards my bedroom door.

“Yes.”

“So strange. She is not from here!” Elder Maple pursed her lips.

“Fern, there is someone here who would like to meet you.” I could tell by Mistress Chervil's face that she did not like the direction the conversation was going.

I heard a few slow steps before Fern appeared in the door. She was wearing a faded blue dress of mine, that swished startlingly high up her calf. Her long hair hung loosely down her back or flooded over her shoulders and her eyes, always a watery blue, seemed even more unearthly today.

“Ma'm.” Fern rested a hand against the wall and made a small curtsy.

Elder Maple looked her up and down fully three times before speaking. “I am pleased to see you are healing well.”

“Yes, I thank you.” her quiet voice was even quieter in the presence of a stranger.

Elder Maple looked Fern hard in the face but I noticed our she avoided her eyes. “Well, I think that I had best go now. Good day to you ladies.” And with a small bow she strode out the door.

Mistress Chervil returned from a bargaining trip in Darag the next day with her brows down low. I knew from experience that she was mad.

“Elder Maple told had the whole place, including the three other Elders, convinced that she is strange.” she told me as we unpacked her basket in the store room.

We had turned down Fern's offer of help so she had gone to sit on the porch. There was no fear of her overhearing.

“Strange?” I wrapped a fresh chunk of cheese in a cloth and laid it on the appropriate shelf.

“Not bad per say, but something to be watched. Elder Maple said that she was so white and tall she can not be a normal person.”

“I noticed she did not seem to be able to look Fern in the eyes.” I carefully placed a newly sharpened knife on the cutting block.

Mistress Chervil nodded. “That is the worst part. She has reported that her eyes were so clear and blue that she must see things differently than we do. Elder Maple has implied that she might even be able to see thoughts.”

I snorted. As a young girl I had been taught to respect the Elders but honestly, I did not believe anyone except God could read minds.

“Plain ridiculous!” my mistress plunked down the last bundle and hung up her village basket.

There was something unusual about Fern, I had to admit that, but she could not read thoughts. I tromped out of the store room and through the common room then out the front door.

Fern was seated on the bottom step of the porch stairs running her left fingers through the dust.

“Do you want to do a lesson?” I called down to her.

She flinched as if I had slapped her and in a blink her foot had scuffed up the dust.

“I am sorry, did I startle you?”

She stood up, brushing her dress. “Yes, a little. And thank you, I would enjoy a lesson.”

She managed to read several small words that afternoon. I smiled, delighted to see how my pupil was finally coming along.

“Fern.” I opened the desk drawer and removed a sheet of paper. Placing it on the desk I dipped a handy quill in the ink and held it out to her. “It is time you learned to write.”

She hesitated a moment and then took the pen. “How?”

“Sit and I'll guide your hand.”

She sat and I wrapped my hand around hers. Together we wrote the letters F-E-R-N. She smiled and looked up at me.

“That says Fern doesn't it?”

I nodded and smiled back.

“Mistress Chervil!” a man's voice squeaked through the air. “Mistress Chervil!”

I ran to the door and looked out. Coming up the slope were two men, one supporting the other.

“Mistress!” I called and dashed for the bucket.

I tied my knot too hurriedly and lost the bucket down the well. Then I frantically had to search through the shed and house before finding another. The result was that I missed something.

Mistress Chervil had hurried out of her bedroom when she heard my call. Fern was already rising from her chair, opening the door wide and motioning the men towards the bed.

“He was bit,” Verde the goat keeper slowly eased Cleft his father onto the bed. “by a snake.”

Mistress looked for me and seeing only Fern ordered her, “Go to the store room and get me Costmary.”

Fern blinked and then vanished. Returning she held out some leaves of a freshly cut herb. Mistress Chervil took them from her and began pressing them over the mark on Cleft's leg.

“Fern.” she pulled back. “These are not costmary.”

Fern looked at the mistress, her face miserable.

“It is alright. The costmary--” Mistress Chervil began giving directions.

“Use it.” Fern's voice sounded strangled.

Mistress Chervil opened her mouth.

“Hurry,” Fern swallowed hard but rushed on. “It is Lion's Ear. It will help.”

“Fern--”

“I read it!”

Mistress Chervil looked at her hard.

“Alright, I will hold it on here but go fetch me the costmary as well.”

Fern vanished again. When she returned Mistress Chervil lifted the leaves and gasped. The two angry red marks from the snakes fangs hand nearly vanished and there was absolutely no swelling.

After she sent the father and son back home and I returned to the house with the belated water she turned to Fern.

“What did you say that was called?”

“Lion's Ear.” Fern cowered a little, obviously worried that my mistress would be upset.

“Where did you find it?”

“It grows about half way down the hill near the big rock.”

Mistress Chervil cocked her head. “I've never heard of it. Maybe I should reread some of those books Val is teaching you from.”

Later Mistress Chervil took me outside with her to feed the chickens. It was totally unnecessary do so I knew she had something she wished to speak to me about.

“You know she said that was Lion's Ear?”

I nodded and scattered a handful of grain.

“There is not a mention of any such thing in that book.”

I looked up. “Was she just making a wild guess?”

Mistress Chervil shook her head. “No, she knew. That was too lucky of a guess.”

Any new predictions? Whose your favorite character so far? Valerian?Mistress Chervil? Fern? Master Conifer? Elder Maple?

Kelpie

The Forgotten Memory

In honor of Grace, I let her name the main character in this story which I am now posting, on her birthday. A very happy birthday Grace and I hope you enjoy this story!

The Forgotten Memory

After Master Conifer, the Darag Village carpenter stumbled across her beaten and bloody body strewn over a patch of ferns he thought she was dead. He called Mistress Chervil, the village healer and my mistress, and she listened to the girl's heart. It was beating.

They brought her in our narrow doorway and Mistress Chervil, spotting me wide eyed, ordered me out to the well for fresh water.

“And grab some clean rags from the storage room on your way back in, Val!” she called after me.

I grabbed the tin bucket that was leaning against the outside of the log house and dashed down the hill as fast as my bare feet could carry me. This patient was not only a wreck, but someone I did not know, an unusual occurrence in our little corner of Fen Forest.

I shoved the details from my mind as I reached the well and lifted the rope Mistress always left coiled near by. I tied a quick knot around the bucket handle and then dropped it down into the watery depths.

My mind returned to the body just laid on the patient bed in our common room. I had seen some nasty wounds, but never so many on one person. Really, she was just a mass of bloody tissue. Shuddering I hauled the full pail back towards the light and then hurried up the hill, careful not to spill a drop. I snatched the bag of freshly washed and dried bandages on my way through the store room.

“Perhaps she is from--” I heard my mistress drop her sentence midway as I clattered into the room.

She stood up from the girl's bedside abruptly and waved the men out of the house. “Leave. I need to take care of the patient.”

We silently washed her as best we could, cutting off her clothes to make sure we found all of the gashes and bruises. She was pale and slender. Her hair wavy and light colored. Certainly she was not forest born. When we were finished bandaging, and I was preparing to clean up Mistress Chervil finally spoke.

“She is just wearing a simple weave. Why would anyone do this to a poor girl?”

I glanced up to see her fingering a scrap of the girl's dress.

“Maybe stole something?” I suggested, dumping the soiled rags into the wash basin.

My mistress shook her head and shrugged. “I suppose we will just have to ask her when she becomes conscious again. She is not from around here that is obvious.”

It was days before she woke up. My mistress and I both suspected she had lost a lot of blood.

Much to our relief though she did finally open her eyes. Those eyes! I liked to imagine they were blue as the ocean that I had never seen. Certainly, growing up in the forest like I had there was nothing else I had ever found which could come close to rivaling them.

“W-who ar-re you?” she asked as I bustled towards her with a bowl of soup.

“My name is Valerian though some just call me Val. I am the healer's apprentice. Here swallow some of this.” I held a spoon full of the broth to her mouth.

She pulled away. “Where I am?”

“Fen Forest, near Darag Village.” I waved the spoon in front of her eyes to remind her.

“What am I doing here?”

“We were rather hoping you could tell us that.” Mistress Chervil had come up behind me and was watching our patient closely.

“What is my name?” The girl's brow puckered and her large sapphire eyes roved over the room.

“Bless you child.” Mistress Chervil murmured and quickly turned away.

“I'm afraid we do not know dear. But we can call you Fern if you like.” I offered the spoon a third time.

My mistress turned back to me and frowned at the reference.

Valerian

But the girl said, “Okay.” and swallowed the soup.

Fern got better, painfully slowly. She had a broken arm, several cracked ribs and was so covered in stitches she resembled one of my mother's quilts. We were petitioning God that she sustained no internal injuries.

For the most part she laid in bed, or occasionally was propped up on pillows and silently watched us as we went about our work. When she did speak it was usually to ask some question about herself or her past.

“It must have been something very traumatic.” My mistress confided in me one day as we were pulling weeds from around the comfrey. “Sometimes people's brains wipe out everything in an effort to forget one devastating occurrence. She had head wounds as well, which could explain the memory loss.”

One day as I sat at the desk, pouring over a map on which Mistress Chervil had marked the best places for gathering specific herbs, I happened to turn towards Fern. Last I knew she had been napping peacefully but as I glanced toward her I realized she had awakened and was watching me. Her eyes were clear for once and unsettlingly piercing. It was just a brief glimpse before she groaned and the confused blank stare she usually wore slipped back over her face.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“Yes, I thank you. I think I was asleep and you made a move that startled me.”

“I am sorry.”

“No, no. I probably should not be dozing anyway. It means I will not sleep well tonight.” Her left hand stroked the bandages on her other arm, the one that was broken. “When do you think I will be able to get up?”

I shook my head. “ I do not know. I can ask Mistress Chervil if you would like.”

“No that's alright.” she smiled a slight, apologetic little smile. “I could not put you to that trouble. I can ask her at supper.” and then she turned to face the window near her bed.

“Can you read?” a sudden inspiration came to me.

“Read?” she turned back towards me.

“Yes. I'm sure my Mistress would let you have some books if you so chose.”

She gave me that sad little smile again.. “Reading is only for the rich, or learned like yourself.”

“But you could learn too!” I was getting excited now. “I'll teach you.”

Fern was even slower at learning her letters than a snail dragging a rock behind it. Though she always acted as if she enjoyed it I sometimes had the feeling that she was resisting my lessons. Letters that she had finally seemed to master would suddenly slip from her mind and have to be completely relearned.

I vented my frustration in whispers to Mistress Chervil one evening as we were tidying the storage room.

“Be patient. As I told you before, I'm sure she has some brain damage which may affect her long term memory. You're doing a good job.” she reached out and pulled one of my dark brown curls. It was an old gesture, one she had not done to me since I turned sixteen and had my coming of age party. Still I appreciated the gesture of affection.

“Now come,” she smiled. “Let us see if Fern would like to try getting up today since it is such a pleasant evening.”

Our patient complied, wincing as she moved her upper half.

She was tall, I realized when we got her standing. And her hair! I already knew it was lighter than any I had ever seen before, except for the elders, whose hair was white of course. But when she stood up, her hair fell to her waist in a mouse colored mass of waves. My mouth fell open a little. No forest born person would ever let their hair grow that long.

Mistress Chervil saw me gaping and made eye contact. We understood each other: this girl was from far, far away.

Interested in reading more? Any predictions?

Kelpie

Title Challenge

I wanted to do something that would stimulate a little interaction on here again but knowing how busy we are I decided I had better make it not require much time.

So here is the challenge. Imagine this picture is on the cover of a book. What would you title it?

I'll comment with my own suggestion...when I come up with one!

Memory Monday

If you want to see what I have been writing lately hop over to my personal blog and read this post.

http://createdbythecreated.blogspot.com/2015/01/memory-monday.html

Kelpie

Two Symbols--Part Four

How many of you remember a story I started a long time ago called Two Symbols? I was sick today resulting in extra time on my hands. The result: I finished it! If you need to go review the links for previous parts are below. As a side note, since I first started posting this I have gone back and done a lot of editing. I like the story now much better than the version posted on here...oh well.

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Character Sketches

Stephania

Stefania dove behind a convenient bush and began wriggling closer on her stomach. It would take several washes to get the dirt out of her shirt but she pushed the thought out of her mind.

“Be careful, girl. You have played with us a long time and we have tried all our gentle means of getting you to do what is only right. Even now, if you only tell us where your friend is we will make you a leader. They get many benefits you know. And your friend, she won’t be hurt we just need to correct her.”

Stefania saw Irena studying the creases in her palms and chewing on her lip. “If that’s true then why, when you saw someone sitting under her old bridge, did you shoot them on sight?”

Stefania put a hand on her stomach and grabbed at the tree truck she was hiding behind. Her bridge—some innocent person resting in it’s shade had been taken for her and simply shot on sight. She took deep breaths in an effort to still her shaking body.

“It looked like they were pulling a gun. But anyway, that doesn’t matter. She’ll be fine.”

There was silence then Irena’s voice came back, heavy as with tiredness. “I told you, I don’t know where she is.” Stefania heard a chair scrape as Irena suddenly stood up. She looked up quickly and was surprised by her friend’s face. It was defiant, brave, hard, she couldn’t quite put a finger on it Irena looked different. “ I don’t care where she is either so long as she is safely away from you.”

Stefania held her breath and starred at Irena’s hardened jaw. Was it really only months ago she was trying to do just what the GOV’s were now urging.

The man looked at each other with eyebrows raised. The one behind Irena touched his baton but the other barely shook his head.

There was an awkward and tense silence during which Irena stood without moving.

“Well, we believe you. You may go now.”

Too easy. Stefania thought. There is some catch here. They are not that easy on those who defy them. She crept underneath the window which was low enough that she had to crawl on hands and knees to stay hidden.

“Would you like a drink before you go? We’ve had you in here chatting for more than an hour and you must be thirsty.”

She jumped to her feet. There was the catch. “No Irena! No!”

The men froze. The subject of their conversation had astoundingly appeared.

Stefania was only a minute getting through the window and one more grabbing her friend’s arm and hauling her out of the building. The stunned silence was quickly broken. Shouts followed and she could hear footsteps running behind them as well.

Irena seemed dazed and Stefania had to literally drag her.

“What are you doing here?” She finally gasped as she stumbled and Stefania grabbed her roughly around the waste and pulled her up.

“Never mind. Just run.”

“Where?”

Stefania missed a step and tripped a bit. She didn’t know. Where could they go? Her instinct said run, but that wouldn’t do her any good if she didn’t run somewhere. The GOV’s had guns, tazers and grenades and she was sure they wouldn’t be worried about using them.

“To the lake.” She pulled Irena sharply to the right. Then she heard shouts in front. She grabbed the thinner girl with both arms and falling so that she herself was underneath rolled off the road and into a near by magnolia tree. The branches grew clear down to the ground from fairly high up on the trunk forming a natural and dense tent.

“Stay down!” She threw her own body over Irena’s white jacket. Her dark grey shirt would blend in well with the shadows.

Her hair was falling over her face and she carefully turned it away from the road so that as little of her skin as possible would show.

They could hear feet and shouts. She didn’t notice when her hand, holding Irena’s head, began to grow wet.

“Stefania.” The voice was so quite she almost thought it was just in her head.

“What if—if—they are still alive?” She dared not move her heard but she could see Irena out of the corner of one blue eye and she knew it was her.

“Who?” She whispered back knowing that the surrounding din would mask their hushed conversation.

“My family?” Irena’s hand gripped the ground.

“Your family?”

“Yes. If they were still alive, what will happen to them? I’ve been trying to be good, to do everything right so that maybe someday they would think it was okay to tell me where my family was.”

Stefania ran her tongue around in her mouth several times. “They wouldn’t have Irena. You know that.”

The noise was dying away, some of it in one direction and some in another. Stefania cautiously faced around and then got off Irena. She didn’t move.

“I know….But, what if my family is still alive. Will something be done to them because I rebelled?”

Stefania dusted her hands on her jeans. She couldn’t bare to answer that question.

“You know, I’ve tried to get out to the jail a few times. But somehow or other I was always stopped. I still don’t know why they took everyone but me. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Irena…” Stefania began and then trailed off. “We should get going.”

Irena slowly got to her feet.

“Take off your jacket. It’s too bright. Your brown uniform will be great camouflage without that.”

She unzipped the white leather and slowly pulled one arm out. She fingered her eagle pin.

“Leave it. It is a symbol of everything that has ever hurt you.”

“You said once it was a symbol of cruelty.” She dropped the jacket and turned away. “I think I believe you now.”

Stefania parted the big leaves on the side of the tree opposite to the road. “Come this way. I think we can stay out of sight better.”

Without a word Irena followed. Soon they came to a rarely used dirt road and Irena saw Stefania relax a little and fall back to walk beside her.

“Do you think some of your friends could ever help me get to the jail?” Irena watched her friend’s face closely as they walked.

Stefania glanced her way and then quickly began busily putting up her hair.

Irena stepped in front of her and grabbed her hands. “I know you know something. What are you not telling me?”

Stefania’s eyes were watery and threatening to spill over. “Not, now, we need to keep moving.”

Irena crossed her arms and purposrfully stepped in front f her friend.

“Irena, the jail is empty. They filled it full, then decided it was too much trouble, liquidated it and now…people just don’t ever get to the jail.”

Irena dropped her hands. “And my family?”

“There are a thousand nameless graves. Someday, when this is over, we will go put flowers on everyone.”

Irena began walking very quickly and Stefania was almost running to keep up with her. To her surprise the brown eyes were dry, unlike her own.

“I knew it. It knew they could not be alive but I had to try.”

“Then eachother is all we have left, Irena. We can't let something come between us again.”

Irena stopped and looked back. “No, never. Nothing will ever separate us again.”

Stefania stopped and looked at the ground. That distant look that disturbed Irena had come over her face again. “No, I cannot say ever separate us. We do not know what might happen. But we will always be friends.”

“What might separate us? There is nothing. From now on I will go with you and we will stay together.”

Stefania looked up and looked her full in the face for a moment. “Here,” She reached up and began fumbling with the clasp on her necklace. “I want you to have this. The people at camp Phoenix will be good to you if they see you wearing it.”

“But can’t I just get one when we get there?”

“Take it.” Stephania shoved it out to her. “They already know me, but if for some reason we get separated they'll be more likely to trust you if you're wearing one of those.”

Irena pursed her lips. “We're not going to get separated.”

“Please put it on.”

Irena shrugged and passed the chain around her neck.

They walked on it silence and the Stefania said, “We have switched places a lot recently. First, you were weak and I was strong. Then you defended me to the GOV’s today. Then I drug you off and you were weak again. And now, when you’ve had this news about you’re family you’re strong again. We sure are confusing.”

They both smiled.

“I don’t know. Maybe we just now what the other one needs and when.”

They were walking past a small shed.

It had no windows but the walls themselves had many small holes. Stefania instinctively grabbed her friend's arm. Something was not right.

They heard two metallic clicks.

“Run!” Stefania had grown up around guns a new the sound of one cocking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Irena

A small trim woman stood on a low rise. Behind her the ruins of an old prison, bombed and blackened, in front of her a thousand nameless graves.

She tucked a silvery peace of curly hair behind her ear with one well used hand while in the other she pulled a wagon filled with poppies.

A tall man came up behind her also pulling a wagon.

“It seems strange, you know. Having enough food now and not having to keep everything so secret. Being able to actually go to town. Everything. It’s just so different.”

“Yes, Castus, it is. Things have been wrong for a long time, but now, they are finally right.”

“These concrete markers, are they the graves you were talking about?”

“Yes.”

“But there are a thousand and all unmarked!”

She touched the dented and tarnished bird that hung around her neck. “A thousand and one.”

“Whose the one?”

“The one whose ashes gave me fire. The one who was a symbol.”

What do you think? I really felt like I could have ended this better. But somehow, no matter how I arranged it I couldn't pack the punch I wanted. Any ideas?

And as a bonus, here is a link to the song Stephania sang Irena (Back in part three). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=faHO0XIPSSA

A Very Short Story

Yesterday when I finally got open office downloaded to my computer I wrote a celebratory story in honor of the occasion. My sister, happened to come in just as I was finishing it and read it over my shoulder. She liked it so well I thought I would share it with you all too.

Once upon a time, in a time called the future, there lived a thing which died. Now with this anticlimactic beginning, I will end my story.

Do you like it? We joked about me going on and actually writing a humorous with this as the beginning but I don't think that is likely to happen.:)

Bookworm Heaven

Anyone remodeling anytime soon? These are some tempting ideas. :)

http://www.woohome.com/interiors/28-things-every-bookworm-should-have-in-their-dream-home