Just a bit of random writing I did,
just wondered is anyone thought it was worth carrying on or not
In the Dark
"In the dark there are no limits. In the dark the possibilities are endless. You can let it overwhelm you, and wonder... wonder what would happen if the world was fair..." my mother used to stutter to me, stroking my cheek. She never sat down properly, always perching, always ready to make a quick escape to her husband’s shout.
I used to tuck her baggy shirt in my hand, whilst I sucked my thumb, and sniffed her scent during these short talks that happened so scarcely. She didn't seem to mind, but sometimes she would pull the material away from me and say, " you don't want to get buck teeth now, do you?" ,not that it mattered. Nothing could make ME look worse....And I knew I was different. Otherwise why would I be up here? Why would I be hidden away from any other living creature, apart from maybe a mouse or a cockroach? I knew she only meant it for the best, but theres a reason I'm up here- I even repulse her, my own mother!
But when she did come up, it gave me hope. Maybe one day she would set me free. Let me discover this mysterious "light”. When mother left, I felt so alone. I didn't know how long she was going to be but, but my guess was a few weeks- or more! I had been hearing the first twelve rings of the winter bells. The first twelve days of winter. Mother never came to see me during the longest hardest coldest months. She was too busy getting ready for the inter sacrifice. She (being the priest’s wife and all) had to make all the preparations. She had to cook, she had to look good, and she had to host. But my mother had made the largest sacrifice of all. You see, my mother was a kind woman. She didn't like to linger on the bad thoughts of life- death, torture, murder. She didn't like people suffering. So she made herself suffer. There was a tradition in the village. Every winter a sacrifice is made to keep the Deathly Snows away through winter. There are two people who can be sacrificed. The first choice is for the latest born baby in the village. They would be taken from the mother on the day of sacrifice and slaughtered in front of the whole village. This thought made my mother shudder. The second option was for the priest's wife to be sacrificed. She isn't killed, but her arms are slashed so fiercely they bleed for weeks. But she isn't helped. She has to walk through the harsh wind to the meadows which neighbour our village and lay her bleeding arms on the scratchy, dry grass.
As she struggles back to the village, the crowd watches her stumble and fall. They can’t help her. She has to make it the church.
When she does, the crowd grab her frail body, and cheer. The village will survive the winter. That is if she makes it to the church.
Mother doesn't get any younger every winter. The older she gets the harder it is for her to cope with the whole ordeal. Last year I didn't see her for three months! She was stuck in bed with an illness of some sort...
Anyway, she’s worried whether she'll be able to sacrifice herself anymore, without dying. She’s thinking of having one year off... to gather her strength for the next year. One baby... just one baby. Think off all the others she'll be able to save in the future.
How do I know all this? My mother’s chamber is just below me. I often hear her talking to the maids. Thinking aloud to them more like. As much as my mother is kind and thoughtful, she is also very proud of her wealth. The maids aren't her friends; she doesn't even really need them to be there. She just loves it when friends come round and she is able to show off her "staff".
She's rich because she’s the priest’s wife. The priest is the most respected figure in the village. But also the most feared. His mind has a direct link to god, and after many years of serving Him, God has given him powers like no other being before.
At least, that's what he tells the villagers. And they believe him. Of course they do. The people of this village are very superstitious.
I’ve never thought much of the priest, even though I’ve never met him; if all holy men are like him, I’m am glad I’m stuck up here. I also hear him beating her in her bedroom, for being a whore, and a disrespecting wife. It makes me want to trap him up here, and live the life I have to endure. I know he’s not my father...
My father. I’ve often wondered about him. Surely, he must be the reason for my captivity. He must be who I have inherited my looks from. I imagine an ugly, hunched monster, with dry, cracking skin and warts- the kind of beast I imagine myself to be. What I don't understand is why my mother would... you know, with that sort of monster....
Anyhow, the result of it was me, a child as ugly as its father, condemned to a life of darkness.
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