Nana Medley hadn’t been sleeping well. Every time she shut her eyes, terrifying shadows coursed their way across her mind. She snapped them open and sat up, her breathing unsteady, and jerked the curtain back, squinting out into the night. She hadn’t seen anything lurking at her windowsill in weeks, but found this strangely unsettling. Well, she’d reason with herself, the devil you know…and then she’d shudder.
This made her particularly glad that Oren had arrived. She wasn’t a coward by any means, but it is always reassuring to have another person in the house. She was reassured by the fact that her grandson had grown into himself, and was no longer small and skinny. Not that brawn would be of any real help, but still. One cannot be held accountable for the things by which they are comforted.
On the morning of Gypsy’s departure, Nana Medley was sitting blearily at the kitchen table. She’d attempted to make Oren breakfast, but he’d insisted that he’d helped himself already, and that he’d make her some coffee. “You look exhausted”, he’d told her, squeezing her shoulder affectionately. “You shouldn’t carry so much of the worry yourself.”
She’d smiled. “Thank you dear. Don’t worry about me-there’s strength in me yet!”, and her blue eyes had sparkled in the youthful way which always made him believe that she was capable of anything, even if her limbs were getting stiffer and it was taking her longer to negotiate the stairs than it used to.
“I rang Aurora last night,” Nana Medley told Oren, once she had a steaming mug between her hands and he was seated opposite her. “Herself and Greta have told the others. I believe Aurora and some of the younger ones are planning a reconnaissance.”
Oren nodded. “That sounds wise. I’ll go with them if they need me.”
Nana Medley nodded. “That’s what I told her. She said she’ll let us know.”
Light was staining the tabletop, making every scratch and chip clearly visible. The sun was falling upon Oren’s hair, making the gold strands glitter. He was, she decided, an Adonis. Hadn’t she always thought so?
“I wonder if Gypsy got away,” Oren mused, half to himself.
Nana Medley chuckled coarsely. “That girl always does.” She shook her head. “We’d have my beloved son down on top of us soon enough if he’d ever leave his precious work.”
Oren forced a smile. He hated to speak ill of anyone. There was a prolonged silence.
“I think I’ll head down to the market after I wash up.” Oren said, getting to his feet. “There’s not much we can do without the others, without a plan. Is there anything you need?”
Nana Medley checked the presses and the fridge-she never could remember when she was running low on anything- and made him out a list in her neat cursive while he washed her cup, and the cup and plate which he’d left in the sink. Once he’d washed his teeth and face, he said his goodbyes, and, refusing to take any money from her for the messages, headed out the door.
By now, he knew the route to the marketplace well, better, he realized, than the way to many of the places in his own neighborhood. Sometimes Nana Medley’s house felt more like home than his own. He felt guilty at the thought.
He walked slowly, letting the sun seep into his skin. He liked to saunter while it was safe to do so. At the foot of the hill upon which his grandmother’s house was perched, he took a left, and arrived at the small stream where some of the local children were paddling and skipping stones. He envied them their carefree spirits, but he was never one to complain about his lot. Their excited shrieks and laughter carried on the breeze, and then melted away to nothingness. He felt the void of its absence.
The market wasn’t far. It stood in a small square about ten minutes from the stream. He was always able to tell that it was getting closer from the way the grass began to thin out, and disappear from vast patches. By the time he reached the square, there wasn’t a blade of grass to be seen, just an expanse of dirt ground, from which gasping puffs of dust rose in clouds under his brown laced shoes.
The market place was busier than usual, though it all seemed concentrated in one area. He gathered each item on the list, using his own carefully saved money, before heading over to where the crowd had congealed, at a table on which colorful hair scarves and scrunchies, the sorts of which his cousin Gypsy favored, were displayed.
“Not another one,” the angular woman behind the stand was saying to her bearded co-worker. “Call Patrick, get rid of her; she’s making a scene.”
“I’ll ask somewhere else then,” a voice was saying in an unfamiliar accent. “Though you don’t need to be so damn unhelpful. That’s not good for business, you know.”
Oren cast around for the speaker and located her soon enough. She stood out, with her dark skin and braided black hair, and her grey trousers and red buttoned shirt, so different from anything worn in these parts. She turned quickly, hitting the boy behind her with her braids in the process, and stormed away to a stall a few tables over.
Oren followed, concerned for her in her distress. “Wait!” He called after her, picking up speed a little. “Maybe I can help you.”
The girl glanced behind her, then picked up speed.
He frowned. Worried that she wasn’t in control of her senses, he hurried after her. She didn’t stop. He stopped, and allowed her to put some distance between them. She kept moving, eventually stopping and sitting down on the ground, as if she couldn’t bring herself to move any further. He took the opportunity, and had settled himself behind her before she noticed his presence.
“Are you alright?”
She frowned. “People around here aren’t great about giving out information are they?”
He laughed. “We can be wary of strangers…we have our reasons,” he paused. “What was it that you wanted to know?”
She took a deep breath, and tugged at one of the dark braids which framed her face. “I’m looking for Farraige an Fola.”
It was Oren’s turn to frown. “Why would you want to go there?”
She looked at him carefully, as if trying to decide whether or not she could trust him. It seemed that she decided she couldn’t. “Do you know where it is?”
He smiled. Like Gypsy, she kept her cards close to her chest. Though, given the information she wanted, he supposed couldn’t blame her.
“Look,” he lowered his voice and inched closer to her, “people are beginning to react against the things that are going on down there. I know people who can help you…”
She hesitated, then muttered “I have nothing else…,” before smiling radiantly at him. “That would be great, thank you.”
He returned her smile. She was quite pretty now that she’d relaxed a little, he noted. Her eyes were large and dark, and her eyelashes were long and sooty. Her smile drew light out of them, making her look younger than he’d first presumed her to be. Still, the way in which she held herself made her seem haggard and old, as if Life had dragged her along at an impossible pace. Her clothes were crumpled, and her red shirt stuck to her skin. Sweat seeped down from her arm pits. His pity for the girl increased.
“I’ll bring you to my nan’s and you can have a bite to eat and freshen up. Then I’ll bring you to people who can help you.”
She nodded and murmured her thanks before getting up and following him.
“What’s your name?” He asked, after they’d walked a little of the way together in silence.
“Ebony.” She replied, after glancing around her.
He introduced himself in return. She forced a smile, said “Hi Oren,” and returned to the refuge of her silence, where she remained until they had arrived at the top of the hill upon which Nana Medley’s house stood.
He knocked to announce his arrival before pushing open the front door. “I’m back”, he called, heading into the kitchen to put Nana Medley’s messages away. “Come in.” He glanced back at Ebony and beckoned her forward. She followed behind her after a glance at the door, which allowed her to decide that escape wasn’t altogether impossible. The stairs began to creak. “Sit down,” Oren told his guest, gesturing towards the wooden chairs which stood at the wooden table, veiled by a yellow plastic table cloth. She sat automatically. Oren headed into the hall, and finding Nana Medley laden down with a bundle of washing, took it from her, and used the opportunity to whisper news of the stranger.
“Oren,” the old woman looked at him severely, “are you sure about this? Haven’t I told you…”
“I know,” he tried to ignore the guilt which was crawling up from the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t usually so reckless, but the poor girl had looked so vulnerable and alone… “maybe it wasn’t my wisest decision, but she walked the whole way back with me, and…” he spread his arms, with his palms outwards, and raised his eyebrows beseechingly. “Don’t you think I’d notice if she was a threat?”
She shook her head. “Not at all, Oren. That’s what worries me.”
“Just talk to her.” He asked. “See if she’ll have something to eat…” Catching his grandmother’s expression, he amended his choice of words, “A sandwich, some biscuits maybe.” He didn’t mention that the girl looked starved.
Nana Medley sighed. “Alright, Oren.” She passed by him on the stairs and led the way into the kitchen. “I just hope you know what you’re doing…”
Introductions were made, food served, tea poured. With some coaxing, Ebony finally divulged the reason for her coming, the cause of her interest in the place, which hadn’t seen a tourist or traveler in years, though, as Oren well knew, that wasn’t necessarily to say that there were none.
“I’m looking for my friend.” She sighed. “We live in the next town, and she’s been missing for nearly a month now.”
“Missing?” Nana Medley paled. “And why do you think that she’s here?”
“There’s no trace of her in our own town. My searching has led me here.” She said no more.
Nana Medley shook her head. “Let’s hope that she’s not, child.” She seemed not to see the quizzical glance which Ebony cast her as she muttered, “for all our sakes.”
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,855 Reviews
[I think I prefer this chapter to the first. Oren is a very loveable character and Ebony is interesting. Oren is perhaps a little too quick to help her though. Maybe have him think about it just a little more first. Maybe have him approach the stall and start looking at the ribbons but here her voice again, talking to more people further down. And Nana Medley I'm not too sure about yet. She seems a pretty typical old woman except for her fear at the beginning and all the secrets between her and Oren. But not to worry. There's plenty of time to develop her further and it's a nice contrast to Gypsy's father's idea of her.
Actually, I have very little criticism of this chapter. The pace was good, the description lovely an there's a good balance of action and information. Good work! I'm going to e-mail you this and a few bits and pieces for the first chapter in just a moment and I'll be working on three and four presently but I thought I should post it here too. See if I can't boost this thread and get you a few of those well deserved reviews =)
Heather xx]