Chapter 19 - Home
We managed to find a small farming village just as my stomach was seriously considering eating itself. The folk eyed me curiously as we sauntered through but none approached. I had headed west, making sure to avoid the Greysmarsh survivors.
The strangers were friendly enough, happy to exchange their foodstuffs for my coin. I kept to myself as I ate a warm bowl of stew at a little table outside a woman’s home, having tethered Peaches in a stable to enjoy the hay and make conversation with her own kind.
As I watched children playing in the streets using sticks as swords, I couldn’t help but think maybe I should stay here. Because that was the idea, wasn’t it? That was Kaspar’s plan for me? That I would leave Kalmador and just slip into another place so seamlessly it would take no thought at all. After all, that was what I had done when I had left Greysmarsh, wasn’t it? I’d never looked back. Not once.
But now, knowing that only heart-wrenching agony came from turning my face to the past, I couldn’t stop myself. It was a fresh wound I continued to prod. Because the only way to deal with pain was to feel it. And oh, dear reader, I felt it. I felt it like a chasm in my soul. Deep, dark and festering.
Before me, the children warped and all I could see was Mirabelle and I.
The young farmer in the pasture ahead mucking out his pigs became Kaspar. He had finally escaped the crown and had found that simple life he had always dreamed of.
Shivers assaulted me and I pulled my cloak tighter as sweat beaded on my brows and pooled between my shoulder blades.
Did he really think I could start my life again without him?
Did he really think every day would not be torture?
At least this way you’ll be alive. You’ll be safe.
That was true. I was alive. Horrifically and excruciatingly alive.
I left that place without another word, thankful that the food and rest had given Peaches the strength to pick up speed. The sun was dipping low, shifting the cloudless sky to a beautiful cobalt blue. Again, I stuck to the paths, but unlike last time, I had absolutely no idea where I was going. My inner compass had broken and now spun every which way.
By the time the sky grew so dark I struggled to see, I was well and truly in the middle of nowhere. I had not passed another settlement for quite some time and I could see nothing but grassy knolls in every direction. My heart stuttered with sudden anxiety. The pleasant heat had left with the sun and now the night’s breeze was cutting. I needed to find some sort of shelter or there was a good chance I was going to freeze to death. A normal person could have probably lasted, bundled up inside a cloak and cuddled close to Peaches for warmth. But I was no normal person. I was already losing the feeling in my fingers.
Then, like a beacon calling me to sanctuary, I spotted it. A lone hunting lodge. Or perhaps shack was a more fitting description. It was quite easily a third of the size of my home in Cragdale, with a rotting stable attached to the side, ready to collapse in the next storm, but it was something.
As I headed closer, I noticed there were no lights coming from the windows. It sat solemn and alone in the dip between two hills, abandoned. I hopped of Peaches and scouted the area, a broken piece of the stable’s fence held in a tight grip just in case. But as luck would have it, it was empty. And it was about time a bit of luck came my way.
Inside, the place was coated with a thick film of dust. No visitors. That was a good sign. There was furniture. Simple, wooden furniture but it was all the essentials I needed. A bed pushed against one wall, and chairs and a table set up around a cold hearth. A thud behind me made me turn and in came Peaches, strolling in to meet me in the centre of the cold, dark room.
“Well, girl-” I hugged her neck, gazing in wonder at our discovery. “Welcome home.”
She bobbed her big head, as if satisfied with the idea.
Suddenly incredibly weary, I stumbled towards a dusty chair and collapsed onto it. The hard wood jarred my bones but I was honestly too tired to care. I was just thankful the thing had stayed in one piece. Chucking the rotting piece of stable post into the empty hearth, I let out a heavy exhale.
“I guess we’d better get a fire going, hm?” My eyes drifted to Peaches. She had crossed the room and had wasted no time in claiming her spot. After twirling slowly, sizing up the space, she thumped down on the floor at the end of the bed. My heart swelled and pressure built behind my eyes.
I’m so glad you’re here.
I crossed the room, rubbing some life back into my thighs and grabbed the blanket still tucked perfectly over the straw mattress. Dust plumed in a huge, white cloud as I shook it out. I sneezed. Peaches sneezed. I laughed. Peaches’ ears twitched as she squinted up at me.
“Here.” I draped it over her body. “You stay there and relax. I’ll go get the wood, shall I?”
.
And that, dear reader, is the story of how I ended up thriving out here in my little hovel. It was quite the journey, wouldn’t you say? It must be well over two years now since we first claimed this place as our own. It’s heading into autumn now. There have been no more big storms but I let Peaches wander in and out as she pleases. She’s back in her favourite spot at the foot of my bed.
So, now we’re at the end, I guess it’s time for me to reflect on why I even decided to write all this down in the first place. The simple, surface level reason would be that I have a lot of time and not much else to do. But in truth, I just really don’t want to be forgotten. Perhaps in the grand scheme of things, I am not extraordinary. I am just a person, like everyone else; despite my best efforts to contort myself into something more unique. I don’t believe I have necessarily left an imprint on this world and I doubt there will be a gaping hole in existence after I perish. But I lived and I loved and I really do not wish to end up as a rotting corpse with no name, buried in an unmarked grave by whoever is unfortunate enough to find me here when my time is up. I hope Peaches expires before I do. I don’t much like the thought of her chewing on what’s left of me.
I was not a very open person in my life and looking back, I think that is one of my biggest regrets. I should have told Kaspar I loved him the moment he had uttered those three heart-stopping words to me. Because I did. Way back then. The words were right there on the tip of my tongue, but I panicked and I pushed them down. That one time I told him was not enough. If I could go back in time I would have said it with every greeting, after every kiss, at every goodbye.
I wish I had done more for Mirabelle. I hadn’t even given her a proper apology for leaving her in Greysmarsh while I went off and pursued my dreams. I hadn’t apologised for forgetting her.
There is no chance that I will ever forget her again. Whenever the wind bends the boughs of the trees outside just so, all I hear is the creaking of that blasted rope.
I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if things had played out just a little differently. If I had trusted Kaspar with the truth about Mirabelle, could he have saved her the way he had saved me? Was there an ending to this story were the both of us were here, sleeping top-to-tail and fighting over the blankets? I bet she would have no trouble growing her own vegetables. She would have mastered this living-in-hiding business. She would have made it fun. The shack could have been our new den, complete with creaking floorboards and draughty windows.
I have opened my soul to you, dear reader, and I cannot thank you enough for reading. You now know me more intimately than anyone ever has. I am sorry for burdening you with all of this. But, considering this is me wrapping things up, it seems only right that I end it with a flourish, don’t you think? So I’ll take my painting out from its special box under my bed and I’m going to try this one more time.
Here goes nothing.
I lay the painting out on my table, brushing away leftover crumbs from breakfast and weighing the corners down with cutlery. It’s all finished now, every last detail. The backs of my eyes immediately start itching. It’s been a few months since I’ve had this out on display. The wedding portrait had been a silly fantasy back then but it feels like a sick joke now.
I have painted nothing else noteworthy in my time here. Sketches of my sweet old girl are tacked up on the wall at the end of my bed; I think that is why she lies down there. My special talent must give those images a spirit of their own, one that is soothing by the way she falls asleep so quickly and snores so contently.
My hand traces the petals of the peonies on the parchment and I smirk at the pillowy softness of them. They don’t shrink away this time, which is promising. Mouth agape, I watch as they follow my finger, turning and fluttering as if my touch is their light. This is new. I can even feel the silk of my dress, the tough brocade of Kaspar’s waistcoat, his hair… I can feel his hair.
The painting distorts as tears blur my vision.
Legs suddenly wobbly, I drop into my chair and trace the shell of his ear. The soft waves of his golden hair shift and curl around my fingertip.
I can feel him.
So many emotions are battling through me right now I don’t know how to feel. Elated? I can touch him. My talent has somehow strengthened. But I can’t touch him. Because it’s not really him, is it? I’m never going to touch him again.
As I sit and gaze at my creation, the figures before me move. They clasp hands, my pale, slender fingers slipping seamlessly into his large palms. Painting-me tilts his chin up a fraction, the sun through the window dances on my eyelashes making them look like spun gold. Painting-Kaspar’s pink lips quirk into his gentle smile and then, right before my eyes, he plants a kiss upon my cheek.
My chair gives way under me and I crumple to the floor. My heart is pounding so hard it smacks painfully against my ribs. I grab the chair leg for support, my racing mind making the room spin.
It worked. It actually worked. Dear reader, I’ve finally done it!
A noise between a sob and a laugh escapes me and Peaches’ head shoots up. Oh, me falling off my chair doesn’t wake her but that did? I could have seriously injured myself!
Her hooves are then scratching at the stone floor, trying to find purchase. I quickly get to my feet to help her up. Her ears are bolt upright, nose pointed, sniffing. And that’s when I hear it, too. Hoofbeats. Outside.
She trots excitedly over to the front door while I grab the butter knife from my table, upsetting my painting. It curls back up into itself with a snap.
No one ever rides by here.
A whinny of a horse. Peaches’ tail swishes. I move to the window, heart in my throat.
A huge, glistening black stallion has stopped before what’s left of my stable.
Wait, I know that horse.
.
.
The End
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137,797 Literary Works • 672,067 Reviews
Hi MissGangamash
Mailice here again with another review!
Let's start here with what I noticed about this chapter before I move on to a general critique of the story, as I assume that we may have reached the last part here. (?)
I liked that you divided this part into two, and how the passive and active changed from the previous point. But I also thought that the transition was not really good. I thought it was rushed a bit too quickly, and I think it might have been better if you had gone into a bit more detail in a few sentences or a paragraph about how Wally has settled into this old house and made the transition that way, rather than going in this rather simplistic way.
I think this is a good paragraph. It describes Wally very well, in his character points like strengths and weaknesses. You see a certain change in him, but also a kind of new beginning that runs throughout the second half. I like how this really unfolds.
Haha. Yes, that's Wally...
Thoughts gather and form into sentences.
When I start to think again about what I've read, I like to refer to the title and the journey of the character we've followed. I like how the title feels complete now, it's satisfying yet open-ended, combined with a certain unknowability that I like a lot.
We follow Wally's life from the beginning to this point and I think it's a big step for him to change in character to the point where he's managed to describe himself and write down what he wanted to tell. It seems to me like it's his step to gain his freedom, which he only finds after having so much freedom (compared to Mirabelle or the other residents) and now finally showing appreciation for it. He begins to live, not simply exist. At least that's what I take away from the story.
I like the story. It gave a great insight into Wally so that he seemed real and Kaspar also seemed convincing and alive to me. I love how much insight we got, not only into his everyday life and his life, but also his thoughts and his world. It helped to build up this first step so that the second step could fit in well; the "big other", the changes that were outwardly only sporadic and became clearer with each new chapter, how much life is unfair even when you've made it to something, and how that affects you character-wise.
In summary, I liked the story a lot. It was a great progression, especially how Wally changes over this long (and long) journey in such a way that he may ultimately be happy in the moment.
(And of course the ending is well done, that leaves the possibility to imagine.
Have fun writing!
Mailice
I have added a few more lines between the transition to make it a little smoother, you're not the only one to point out the suddenness of the change. I didn't go into reflection but I just kinda tried to ease out of the past better.
Considering he made the declaration that he could not live without Kaspar, my boy is still living! As horrible as the whole situation is, the time alone has made him realise that he can go on, and he doesn't need Kaspar to feel like he exists. He may be living a very humble life, but he still hasn't lost his sense of humour!
I'm so happy you've enjoyed the story and liked learning about Wallace! The main thing I want people to take from reading is to feel like they now know this person inside and out. There is still one part left and it's up now!
Hi MissGangamash!
RandomTalks here with a short review (sorry for the delay)!
I cannot believe that the story is almost over; that this is the last chapter and after this, our journey with Wally ends. I have to admit it has been a rather terrific journey but since we have not reached our ending line, let's move on with the review.
I really liked the short moments you have created in the village where we simply got to hear Wallace observe and reminisce. His thoughts are a lot more clear and concise now, but they still contain the depth of the tragic loss he has just gone through. It feels like he has aged through the entire debacle and the exhaustion in his thoughts and observations convey the fact that he is done. He no longer represses his emotions but he simply allows them to bring forth the painful memories of the life he has lost. Even though, memories are all that he has now, I think that this change in his ways of dealing with emotions represents a certain growth in his character.
There is acceptance in him now as can be seen from the questions he poses in front of himself. He thinks that it will not be possible for him to live a life without Kaspar, but at the same time, he reconciles himself to the fact that he just has to. The short vague memories that often play in front of his eyes, tethers us to his grief and loss, never allowing us to stray far despite of any developments in the plot or the character. Sometimes, there were certain sentences that broke from the pattern of your narration and created a much more intense effect on the story-telling with their unbidden portrayal of Wallace's thoughts, in their most true and honest form. For example: "That was true. I was alive. Horrifically and excruciatingly alive," - I really felt this part and could resonate with Wallace's bitter pain in that moment.
I thought that this chapter had two really distinctive tones and can be divided into two parts in terms of mood, setting and Wallace's personal growth. But I do feel that the transition could have been better executed by drawing out the moment in the shack. I felt it would have been better if there was a pause for the readers to simply breathe and adjust to all the changes that took place in Wallace's life in such a short span of time. We have reached a moment now, where there is nothing left for Wallace to do except for to fall back, pick up the little pieces of his life and create something that he can live with. It is a great transitional moment and I kind of wanted to see him in an environment where he is finally no longer running and has nothing and no one to distract him from the intensity of the loss he has experienced. Even a moment of reflection from Wallace's end could have created a whole lot of difference. I feel that if you had expanded on that, it could have also smoothened the transition before the time jump after which we get to see Wallace in a new light and as a new person. This is the end of the story that brought our character to this present moment and I just feel it could have been marked better than the way it happened in the story.
For some reason, I felt that Wallace is still the same and yet very different from the person we left behind. He has more emotional maturity now and he has adopted a much more neutral outlook even while clinging to the chest of memories of the past that he holds close despite the pain it causes him. Its interesting that he still holds on to the accusations he had levelled on himself after Mirabelle's death, but now it feels less like accusations and more like simple straight facts that he has made peace with. He is not drowning himself in guilt, rather he has accepted what happened and made a corner for all those memories that must be very painful for him to recount. When he thinks of Mirabelle, it is not with grief and regret, but a somber fondness for someone he can no longer have in his life. There is an overall softness in Wallace now, probably owing to his growth and the lack of cause for his previous insecurities to stunt his development as a person.
He still dwells on the past. After all, it is quite an unforgettable past, especially when he lives in such a dull present. But his regrets and thoughts are much more constructive now. He thinks about what could have been or what he could have done, but it does not come with the self-hatred and guilt of before. He is still in pain, but he has accepted it as a part and parcel of his life by now. The fact that he is aware of his shortcomings and regrets being or acting certain ways, shows the development of his character through the years. It makes me wish that we got to see him interact with someone or something outside of this little private haven he has created for himself. Then we could really see if he actually applies these developments in his life as well or if they are just thoughts, that are best suited for residing in his head alone.
The scene with the wedding portrait was especially haunting. We can feel the moment of anticipation and the longing with which Wallace proceeds to imagine life inside the figures of his painting. I can see why he would preserve it so carefully; a person of his sentiment would hold on to the painting as the last source of connection between him and Kaspar. I was a little confused by what he meant when he said, "It worked," but I think this scene has a significance of its own because of the way it reflects Wallace's innermost desires and pain. The painting was how he wished things could go and now he just has to suffice with staring and imagining. It was a cleverly constructed, beautiful and yet painful scene that shows us that no amount of time or distance is going to erase the undeniable history or connection between these two people.
Now, I have an idea of who is on that horse that is approaching Wallace's little shack, but I guess, I can wait for the final piece of his chapter.
Keep writing and have a great day!
Until next time!
There is an acceptance within Wallace now, I completely agree. From him having to leave Kalmador he's not really allowed himself to think, but with the little respite in the village, he lets himself feel. And I agree that that is coming a lot easier to him now.
I've added a little extra bit between him finding the shack and the next scene, let me know if that makes it read better. I agree that there needed to be a little bit of a rest before the jumping ahead. I didn't go into a reflection as pretty much most of the second part of this chapter is reflection and I didn't want it to feel like an overkill.
The 'it worked' part is a throwback to when he tried and failed to get the picture to move quite early on in the story and his present self remarks something like 'I still cannot do it two years later, thank you for rubbing that in.' It's understandable it was forgotten considering the way you've been consuming the story.
Final piece of the puzzle is up!
Hey! Salis here with another review!
This is it. We have reached the end (at least the first half of it). Was it the end I was expecting? Surprisingly, the end I saw here is more in line with my expectations from back when I first started reading this story than with the expectations I was left with after reading the previous chapter.
There was pain in here as well, no doubt, but whereas in the last chapter there was only that and nothing else, this time around there was also some beauty. And that made all the difference. If I had to describe the feel of the first half of the final chapter, I would say it exuded sweet melancholy. Knowing Wallace as well as I do now, that is exactly what I figured would wait for him in one of the possible versions of the end of his journey.
One can just feel the regrets of the past building and building inside the protagonist as the chapter goes on, from seeing himself, Mirabelle and Kaspar in others around him to the moment of reflection in the shack. And all of this is leading to the moment of release for the sum total of his thoughts and feelings, which I consider the climax of this half of the chapter and the highlight of it for me – looking at the wedding portrait.
Every detail of the painting felt like an essential part of a journey. A journey inward to the very core of Wallace's scarred soul. While I said that the depiction of the ruin in the last chapter was the best in terms of the descriptions you've shown me, what you did here definitely rivals that. One important difference is that it stands at the other end of both the emotional and the color spectrum, which will make for a great experience of contrast when reading these chapters back to back.
Although the scene is very different, it evokes similar emotions in the protagonist as when he moved through the remains of Greysmarsh. And that shows that both the reality he is faced with in the present and the fantasy he has from days long past cause him pain. In my opinion, the love that goes hand and hand with that pain matters most, however. I believe that as long as Wallace keeps that love in his heart, which I hope will be forever, the chasm he spoke of here will never be able to fully consume him.
With that realization, it's as hopeful an ending as I could hope for him to have after everything he's been through. There's still a little bit left to see, though, so I wonder what will happen when he meets his unexpected visitor.
Thank you for this one as well! Keep at it to the end and beyond!!
I love the comparisons you've made the the Greysmarsh scene and the wedding portrait - I completely agree!
And I'm glad you can feel the acceptance along with the sadness in this chapter. I didn't want it to just be depressing. Wallace acknowledges his past and it hurts him, but there is also a large part of him that wants to keep going. He's not given up.
Next and final part is now up! Hope you enjoy!