This morning I was extremely lucky, Mistress Kyami was not around and instead Muralti doled out the chores. Otherwise things would have gone badly for me, Mistress Kyami is never easy, especially with those of us who are not her favorites; Altori thought. I must be more careful this afternoon, she likes her power and won’t stay away long. The laughter of the women at the other tables, eating their lunch made the loneliness that much more palatable, but today it served its purpose. Head down, carefully keeping her scarf low across her head, partially hanging in her face she hid the blackness of the bruises.
The morning had been hard enough, but Muralti was unused to handing out chores and so I got light duty. I can barely stand, if I had spent the morning on my knees scrubbing the floor in the great hall it would have been worse. That is one of the lowliest tasks given and one that was reserved for those that irritated Mistress Kyami. The only one worse, is cleaning out the commodes Altori thought. I hope she is over her anger with me, or I will be assigned that this afternoon. Stealing glances at the other women she wondered again, where did Helen and I come from? How did we get to this village? I truly don’t remember. We are both small and blonde, the women of this village are tall, big boned, with the straightest blackest hair one could ever have imagined. Where is Helen? I know she isn't dead, I feel her presence in my heart, and I am sure I will know if she dies.
The world around her disappeared as she drifted into her memories.
“Helen what happened to you? You are covered in bruises, and I can see bald spots on your scalp. What are you doing on the floor? What happened to your dress? Oh my God, Helen your face, your lips are swollen.”
“Shush, speak quieter. Even though, our hut is on the outskirts of the village, you never know who might be listening. Helen spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Please Tori, bring me some water and a bit of bread, I am not well. I will tell you about it anon.”
http://www.martamoranbishop.com/10/post/2013/05/the-void-part-ii.html
Author and Poet My poetry, short stories, articles, and novels are imaginative views of the world, nature and life through my eyes.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
The Void (part II)
This morning I was extremely lucky, Mistress Kyami was not around and instead Muralti doled out the chores. Otherwise things would have gone badly for me, Mistress Kyami is never easy, especially with those of us who are not her favorites; Altori thought. I must be more careful this afternoon, she likes her power and won’t stay away long. The laughter of the women at the other tables, eating their lunch made the loneliness that much more palatable, but today it served its purpose. Head down, carefully keeping her scarf low across her head, partially hanging in her face she hid the blackness of the bruises.
The morning had been hard enough, but Muralti was unused to handing out chores and so I got light duty. I can barely stand, if I had spent the morning on my knees scrubbing the floor in the great hall it would have been worse. That is one of the lowliest tasks given and one that was reserved for those that irritated Mistress Kyami. The only one worse, is cleaning out the commodes Altori thought. I hope she is over her anger with me, or I will be assigned that this afternoon. Stealing glances at the other women she wondered again, where did Helen and I come from? How did we get to this village? I truly don’t remember. We are both small and blonde, the women of this village are tall, big boned, with the straightest blackest hair one could ever have imagined. Where is Helen? I know she isn't dead, I feel her presence in my heart, and I am sure I will know if she dies.
The world around her disappeared as she drifted into her memories.
“Helen what happened to you? You are covered in bruises, and I can see bald spots on your scalp. What are you doing on the floor? What happened to your dress? Oh my God, Helen your face, your lips are swollen.”
“Shush, speak quieter. Even though, our hut is on the outskirts of the village, you never know who might be listening. Helen spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Please Tori, bring me some water and a bit of bread, I am not well. I will tell you about it anon.”
http://www.martamoranbishop.com/10/post/2013/05/the-void-part-ii.html
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment