The Play Rite. Chapter five

As soon as she had finished that thought, Viviane grabbed her arm and yanked her to that back, to the water bin. Josefine’s head was shoved down to the water, but it didn’t touch. Viviane’s hand gripped Josefine’s hair as she threatened to push it under, ’I know what you’re thinking, girl. You cannot ask questions. I told you that; no matter what. This man is not here. No one can know. Nothing he has said has anything to do with you. Remember that, or the punishment will be much worse than the water bin.’ Josefine to stay strong, but her voice came out in a whimper, ‘Alright.’ Viviane was breathing hard now. She let go of Josefine and sat down in the corner. Josefine took that opportunity to leave.

Alfred looked around the room. He felt like an expensive china doll in a toy store. He really didn’t belong there. It felt like everyone there wanted him for something, but were afraid to touch him because, god forbid, he might break. His mother spoke first, ‘We are worried about you, Alfred. Your father and I-‘ his father cut in, ‘ Your mother and I have decided that it’s time for you to marry. You need a wife and children. You cannot sleep around all your life and leave nothing behind when you go.’ Alfred was not happy with where this was going, ‘If I sleep around my whole life, I’m bound to father a few children while I’m at it. I mean really, what’s the point of marrying if it, in fact, is no different than not marrying? When you think about it, it’s really quite silly.’ His voice sounded cooler, more in control, than he really felt. His heart was beating faster and his jaw grew tense. Alfred knew what had to be coming next; he knew his father. As his father spoke, he felt the servants all stop. They were waiting for one of them to get angry. The servants were used to the fights between him and his father; they knew that the one who lost would make their lives a living hell. There was no exaggerating, it was true. His father spoke again. His voice softer this time, ‘ There is a… woman’ he cleared his throat, ‘ that I would like you to… well… meet.’ There was a silence; his father was siting like a king, waiting for him to answer. Alfred wanted to kick him off of his throne, ‘If you wish me to marry her, you lose nothing by saying so.’ ’I want you to marry her.’ ‘I will not.’ ‘You are a bastard.’ ‘But I have won.’ With that, he walked away. He knew that he would have to meet her, there was no escaping it, but he would not marry her. If anyone, including himself, had been asked to describe Alfred at that point, there was no question as to what anyone would say; Alfred was a stubborn bastard and he liked it.

The Play Rite. Chapter four

The moment she stepped out of the room, all eyes were on her; ecven the man’s. Lance. Viviane had called him Lance. Josefine realized then that Viviane looked angry. She’d expected that, but under that anger seemed to be relief; another new emotion from Viviane. Viviane stood up. Her eyes were red. She grabbed Josefine’s hand and spoke to her softly,’ Get the waking roots from the cellar, make some tea, and then help me get him onto the bed. Do not repeat anything that he says or that you hear. It is very important for this man to survive. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes.’ She wondered what kind of relationship Viviane had with this man. He was handsome and fairly young. His head was shaved and she noticed a strange marking on the middle of his head, in the back. It looked like the faces of the moon, all lined up together as if to create an infinity sign. Strange. She had never seen a sign like it. Everyone had a sign. They were all born with them. There was a sign for the mountain people, the valley people, the swamp people, the forest people, the dessert people, and the people of the lakes. Her sign did not look like any of their signs, but she had never been told why.

The man’s eyes opened while Josefine was renewing the wet rag on his forehead. She gasped. His eyes were light gray, nearly white. His eyes widened and he grabbed her hand. His words were forced, as if he did not have enough breath, but was desperate to speak,’ Archibald.’ A tear rolled down his cheek,’ Where have you been? I waited for you, but you never came. Your daughter… your daughter misses you. She needs you, Archibald. Josie needs you.’ His eyes were clouded. He wasn’t in the present. When she was younger, everyone had called her Josie. But he couldn’t have been talking about her, could he? Was Archibald her father? Oh, how she wished she could ask him these questions.

The Play Rite. Chapter three

Josefine heard a voice in the hall, it was Viviane’s voice, but what was she saying? Josefine listened more closely. The room seemed to grow quieter so she could hear. There was a man, too. He was speaking,’ Is the girl here now?’ They seemed to be walking toward her. Viviane spoke ,’She is, but she was asleep when I left.’ ‘How do you that she hasn’t woken up?’ ‘The girl, she’s as lazy as her father, sleep all day if she could.’ It was true, but she’d never heard Viviane mention her father before. The man spoke again, ’Do not the wise men know? If so, then she could not possibly take part in the rite. She has no right. Perhaps it was a mistake.’  She could hear Viviane opening a cupboard and taking out a glass jar. Probably to make tea, ‘Do you really think that the wise men could make a mistake like this? No. they had to know what they were doing.’ Big boots shook the small room. The floor creaked as the man leaned in to whisper, ‘Viviane. What if it wasn’t a mistake? What if it were written?’ ‘Lance, are you saying what I think you are? That this is one of the great fates? Though you yourself are a child of the legends, you must know that not even the greatest of men have seen or been seen in the great fates. No one is sure that they even exist anymore… Lance?’ there was a thump. As if someone had fallen down, onto the wooden floor. ‘Lance, please. Oh, please, lance. Please…’ Her words turned into a whisper, ‘Please.’ For once Viviane sounded afraid. There were times when she had been worried for a villager’s life or even slightly unhappy about the death of a villager, but this was real emotion. What had happened, and, more importantly, who was this man? She had to make sure everything was okay.

The Play Rite. Chapter two.

Josefine woke with a start. Her forehead was sweaty and her head was pounding like one of the old tribes’ war drums. She tried to remember her dream. After the ceremony she had come down here and, when she couldn’t find Viviane anywhere, went to sleep. She had dreamed about a ship. A great big ship with everyone she’d ever loved on board (she hadn’t recognized the people, just the feeling). The boat had left before she could get on it. Get to her mother.

This was the first time Josefine had ever dreamt about her mother. Josefine’s mother had died only a few days after she was born. Viviane had taken care of her since and, no matter how much she had asked as a child, she wouldn’t tell Josefine anything about her mother. Sooner or later she had stopped asking.

Alfred’s head ached. He had drunk far too much mead last night. He was about to get up when he realized that there was a girl in his bed. Again. Her hair was blond this time and she was thin, but he could hardly see why he had chosen her last night. She was no great beauty, to say the least. His eyes rolled down her back and then he gave her a little shove. She woke up, arms flailing, and then sat up. She looked at him, blushed, and kissed him. He sat there and waited. Once she realized that he was sitting there, not kissing her back and, quite frankly, not reacting at all, she slapped him hard on the face, grabbed her clothes, and slapped him again. This was a normal reaction to his cruelty. Alfred knew that it was a horrible thing to do, but he didn’t really care. He wasn’t getting married anytime soon, for he enjoyed being single far too much. Why should he get married? He had no children- that he knew of- and more than enough time to make some.

The Play Rite. Chapter one

This is the first part of a much longer book that I am currently in the prosses of writing.

I hope you like it.

The air was cold and sharp. Everyone was waiting, watching. Who would be chosen? Not even the wind made a sound. At last the wise man opened his mouth. The crowd leaned in, ready to be called. The wise man spoke, ‘Josefine of Alton and Alfred Stone of Alton.’

Josefine froze. Her name was just called. She would have to play the lead in the most important play of the last ten years. She was poor, she was an orphan, and she was a nobody. This was so wrong. She wished that she could refuse, but the gods had chosen her. She had to do it. Josefine pushed through the crowd and got up on stage next to the wise man. On his other side stood a you man. He was obviously more important than herself.

The boy named Alfred looked at her. His chocolate-brown eyes seemed to see every inch of her, even though they never moved off her face. She found herself hating him for that. She wasn’t really sure why.

Alfred heard his name and time slowed. He seemed to see everything in slow-motion. All he could hear was his slow heartbeat. There was a young girl trying to make her way through the crowd. She was a pretty, young thing. She looked like one of the mountain folk rather than one of the flatland folk. He wondered why she lived here. Only once he got up on stage did he realize that that young girl would likely end up having to play his lover in the show. Really, she couldn’t be as young as she looked, could she? His mouth went dry. The only thing separating them now was the wise man. He moved aside and clasped both of their inward-facing hands together. Alfred started to recite the sacred vow. The crowd followed his lead.

SPACECRAFT.

Severus could hear the humming of the hover-bed underneath him. The hum that had usually sounded to him like a peaceful, lullaby-type music was now driving insane. He was awake. He was awake and now he would never get to sleep. It was not the hovering that kept him awake, it was the singing. Or rather it was the question as to who was singing. He had never heard anyone singing on the ship before. Once, he had visited a planet with his mother, he could not remember which, and they had gone to a street fair. There was a woman singing and dancing and banging a tambourine against her hand. It was wonderful. Severus still remembered how much his mother had loved music. There had been no music on the ship since his mother’s death. Partly because his father hated music. He could not understand how someone could dislike something so beautiful. Lifting his head from the pillow, he listened closely to the singing. It was in a language that he did not recognize. The ship jerked and Severus fell off of his bed. The floor was hard. Harder, it seemed, than usual. He froze. Did whoever was singing just say his name? He heard it again, quieter this time. He had to find the singer. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Standing slowly up, he saw Simius, his star-pup, staring at him with a curious look o his face. Simius started to wag his tail, ‘Alright Simius, fine, you can come.’ With that Simius’s tail started to wag uncontrollably as he jumped onto his master’s shoulder and then head. There Simius sat, awaiting an adventure. ‘We need to find the singing Simius.’  Simius opened his mouth and a red laser-like  line began to appear in the direction of the singing, but then, almost as quickly as it had appeared, faded. He couldn’t understand it. Simius’s star-light had always worked for them before… well, exept for the one time that they had tried to find a star. Could this be a star? Could stars sing? No, if they did, the scientists would have already done something. Why wasn't it working? He looked at Simius. He would ask someone about it in the morning. The star-light had been shining that way.

As he neared the captain’s quarters, he stopped. Right in front of him, on the other side of the window, in space, was something. A small person? No. the creature was strange. It had a small, elf-like figure with big, blue eyes, no noticeable nose, and a mouth that seemed to go around his whole head. It held itself to the window with its webbed fingers and it spoke to him, ‘Come with me.’ The voice was frightening and yet… he noticed that Simius had left. Severus put his hand to the window and… 

LOVE AND A TRACTOR.

She watched Simone’s muscles flex as the big metal beast turned toward the setting sun. His hair, which had previously been tied back, had fallen down his neck and, as it was hit by the sun, turned the most beautiful hazel she had ever seen. She did not mind having to walk beside the tractor. There was a better view from down there. Simone looked down from the tractor, ‘Don’t you want to come up?’ Simone waved his hand as if to prove to her the beauty of the sunset, ‘The view is better from up here.’ His smile was so kind and she had loved them since they were children, ‘I can’t climb onto a moving tractor.’ He gave out a loud laugh, ‘I’ve known you much too long to believe that.’ ‘Oh, really?’ He was still smiling that smile that he knew she could not resist. In his softest voice he said, ‘Really.’ As he spoke, he jumped down from the moving tractor and grabbed her hand. Simone’s hands were rough from farm work, but his grip was soft. He spoke quietly and with a serious tone that had not been there before, ‘You can do anything.’ And with that, he kissed her briefly on the lips. Not even long enough to guess at what it meant. She stood there silently for a second, but once she regained consciousness, she ran as fast as she could and called out his name, ‘Simone!’  He turned around and, before he could react, she kissed him. His arms caressed her body and face. For a moment she was without any worries in the world, and then she remembered the tractor. As if reading her mind, Simone whispered into her ear, ‘There isn’t much fuel left. Don’t worry.’ She looked into Simone’s dark, green eyes and was in love.