Dear
Readers,
Are
you shocked? I live, I breathe...and I have more going on than apparently, I've
stopped by to say in awhile.
Well,
the time has come for us to...erm....wait wrong thought. The time has come for
me to share a short unedited story with you all! *gasp* I know the horrors of
an unedited story is terrible, scold me in the comments below if you wish.
However, this story came to me in a rush of a dream this morning, I don't think
I'll have the time to pursue this little "dream" story any further.
Yes, this really is a dream, I had it this morning...this is the dream life of
Jessica Greyson. Seriously, it gets quite interesting at times, and people ask
me where I get my ideas, mostly. I dream them up. Hahaha! Very funny, not
really, but seriously I've had ideas and lynchpin moments come from dreams. It
all gets quite interesting in the realm of sleep.
Also sorry for the formatting....I guess I shouldn't pre-write posts on my computer....
“Do
you want to live?”
I
blinked. Wondering for a moment how to answer this question. Was not my name on
the lists? Wasn’t I called to die? They had taken my father and brothers out
the day before. I had been separated from them in the women’s cell—but that too
was now empty, and I sat on the stone steps waiting for my summons—wondering
why I was left for last.
I
looked up into the black mask of the executioner, his bloody ax resting at his
side, dripping with what had been days of work.
“Do
I want to live?” I repeated the question back to him.
“You’re
name is not on the lists.”
“But
how?” I questioned.
He
shrugged one shoulder.
“The
question is, do you want to live?”
I
sat on the steps, wondering how I could live—everyone I had ever known or love
had me the fate of the ax in the past few days—the kingdom had changed hands. I
was no longer noble. I was common as dirt to be trod underfoot—traitors no
matter how innocent they are never survive.
“What
is your name?”
For
a moment I hesitated—I could say I was someone else—but to die under someone
else name would be no honor. I gave it.
He
looked over the list of women’s names and shook his head. “You are not here.”
I
bit my lip and looked at him, my brain muddled in the fog of grief and
betrayal, the chains of accusations. Did I want to live, or did I want to
die—everything I had ever loved was dead—and to join them in the after realm it
would be no crime, to go, to let my life’s light be taken from me. But I had
the choice to live—and what would I do with that choice? How could I do
anything? What would I do with my life if I had it? There was none to protect
me, none to whom I could be harbored under the shelter of their wisdom and
protection—I would be going out into the brutal world without a defender,
without the ability to take revenge. I would go into the worlds with little
more than what I had born into it…didn’t that mean that I was ready to go out
of this world with nothing just as I had come?
“I-I-I
don’t know.” I stuttered out at last.
He
took a coin from the heavy purse at his side.
He’d
been paid a for every traitor he had slain. Blood money. I wondered for a
moment—in his life of luxury and ease—if it would be easy to live on.
“Shall
we let the fates decide?”
Without
waiting for my response, he flipped the coin.
I
knew instantly what I wanted to answer.
Now
that the scales of fate were out of my hand, I knew what I wanted. I knew how I
wanted the coin to land. My heart leapt into my throat strangling my voice that
wanted to scream the words that I now knew the answer to, blood pounded in my
ears.
He
slapped it down, and glanced at me.
“I
want to live,” I whispered.
Moving
his hand he revealed the coin to himself.
“Tails.”
I
blanched.
Tails.
The
end.
I
was suddenly unprepared for death—all of the serenity and surrender I had
collected in the last few days fled. The wild urge to live flooded my veins
even as I sat frozen to the spot, wanting to flee, with nowhere to go.
I
wanted to live.
The
hooded man turned and walked away.
Screams
of terror built in my throat, I held them down with sheer will power.
Fingernails dug deeply into my palms a painful agony, and yet relief to be able
to express my pain and feelings.
He
appeared a moment later, shoving something through the bars.
“Change,
you don’t have much time. I will be back for you in three minutes.”
He
walked away and I lost no time. I shed what I was wearing for the small
clean—but raggedy common clothes. The clothes of a boy, I tucked my hair messy
braid into the woolen cap, just as I heard steps returning down the stone hall.
A
man opened the cell.
“Follow
me. Keep your head down, don’t say a word,” it was the executioner—he had
removed his mask…I didn’t want to look any longer, as two emotions collided in
my stomach twisting it into heaving knots.
I
did as I was bid, following his steps—steps that had led so many to their
death—was leading me to life.
We
reached the outer courtyard.
“Find
your way out,” he said with a nod—and turning went back to the inner sanctum of
the castle. It was a bustle of activity, carts wheeling in and out with
goods—the King was ready to celebrate…I needed to leave before I heaved—dryly.
I hadn’t eaten in days.
Spying
a cart, leaving with a trail of apprentices behind it dressed not unlike me. I
joined in hoping, an extra head wouldn’t be counted at the gate.
With
my head down and tailing the troop of baker boys, I barely had time to react as
a nearly empty basket was shoved into my middle, I grasped it and then glanced
up to see kind brown eyes looking into my own.
“Make
yourself useful,” he muttered.
I
glanced hungrily at the two rolls in the bottom of the basket.
“No
one will notice.”
Hunger.
Primal
need overwhelmed the senses fighting in the pit of my being. The wrangle of
horror, hatred, fear, the knowing I need to forgive—all vanished at the thought
of soft, golden-brown bread.
I
glanced up at the one who had shoved the basket into my stomach and there was a
slight nod.
What if this is his ration…guilt bit into me, but the pinching howl of hunger swallowed it up
as the first nibble of bread touched my tongue. Never had food tasted better,
manna in the wilderness must have been like this.
We
were outside the gate, and into the streets, the boy reached back and grabbed
the basket.
I
want to follow—but where can I go, what can I do?
I
don’t know how to make bread, and I am certainly not a boy. My steps slacken as
we go around the corner, and out of sight of the palace. I need to decide what
I am going to do—where I am going to go.
I will look unto the hills from whence cometh my help—I am in a
city there are no hills—But
still, I look up and see in the midst of the hills of rooves. A steeple towered
above the rest.
The nunnery—I need to go to the nunnery. They will take me in…
Ohh, this is cool!!!
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