Young Writers Society

A wooden cabin atop a large hill. A kitchen small but big enough for a family of four. A wooden table at its center, five stools placed at its sides, a cupboard to the left, a stove in the back, and two hallways one to the right of the table and one in front of it. The table, set with mince pie1, frumenty2, and a bushel of apples. Other things would be brought by those who stopped by. But at the present; a young mother stood at the stove frying the meat for the mince pie as her young daughter ran to the kitchen, tripped over one of the stools, and fell onto the floor where she began to kick, cry, and scream. The young mother frowns, takes off her light blue apron, takes her long brown hair out of its bun, and walks over to the disgruntled child.

“What has happened?” She asked sternly.

In between heavy sobs the young child spoke. “They,” she said as she pointed out the window to a group of boys walking home from raike3. She took her tiny hands and wiped her eyes as she proceeded, “said I ... I was ugly, foolish, and unfit live.”

The mother raised an eyebrow at her young daughter. “Do you feel that you are ugly?”

“No. But…”

“Do you feel that you are not clever?”

“..No...”

“Do you feel that you are in some way unfit to live the life that you have already succeeded in living for the past seven years?”

“No. Mother! They…”

“Then why do you cry as if by them saying this to you, makes it truth. You are not who I think you are, you are not as your father or your brother feels you are. But your true image of yourself comes from here.” She stated as she pointed to the little girls forehead, then pointed to the center of the little girl’s chest. “As you think and feel that you are in your heart and mind, so shall you be. If you feel that you are a fool, you will think, say, and do things foolishly. If you feel that you are intelligent, you will think wisely, say sensible things, and make sound actions. Who are you my child?”

“I am… I am…” The words did not have time to escape before her brother walked through the door, threw his books to the floor and claimed that he was through with learning and going to raike. The young girl looked in the opposite direction as her brother received the biggest slap of his young life.

Chuckles. Viola awoke, her dreams calling her back to her childhood.

“Mother,” She checked for her silver locket. Nothing inside, but the locket itself was good enough to remind her of her mother’s tough love. She wiped her tear streaked face to clear her vision.

‘Crying is for naught, except to bring forth pity. Would it please you, if I pitied you?’ she would say.

As she remembered this she rose, brushed herself off, and retrieved her sword. She looked around, then proceeded to walk toward the front of the house. “Woody!” She paused. Heard a whinny followed by another sound that in no way resembled the first. A grunt. A cry. A moan of pain. “Woody?” She called walking faster and faster, then sprinting toward the sounds of a horse’s struggle. She arrived at the back of the house, heard another whinny, followed by a scream. “Down, I say! BEHAVE! Oh, hello,” he said. He smiled at Viola. A smile that quickly disappeared when she pulled out her sword.

“Get off my horse. You lying, cheating, son of a disgruntled mule.”

At this the young knight’s mouth had fallen agape. “This is your horse?”

“I guess you aren’t so stupid after all. Now hand him over or I’ll sever your head.”

“Young lady, you must be confused. You see, I am a knight. That being so, I have the direct privilege to commandeer anything that I see fit. At the present, your horse seems to fit that requirement. And so if you don’t mind, I’ll…”

“Woody, up.” The horse reared, making the young knight fall to ground. He looked up just in time to see one last thing, a hoof. It was a very unpleasant death. Viola took this time to run over to her horse, hugging its long brown nose as she spoke.

“It’s alright, Woody. It’s me Viola, I’ve got you.” She looked to the young knight, and thought about spitting on him. But another thought surfaced.

“Hmm….” She stated as she was lost in thought.

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1A baked pie filled with shredded meats, spices, and fruits. It is said that if you made a wish with the first bite, it would come true. Usually made around Christmas time.

2A thick porridge. Ingredients include: Currants, dried fruit, egg yolk, and if available, cinnamon and nutmeg. Also made around Christmas time.

3School

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Proverbs 23:7 -  For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he...