The summer wind blows as children run through the streets. Working class women try to herd their children into one area away from their betters. Upper class kids ran in between their lower counterparts, gleefully confusing the poor mothers. Children 4-7, who as of yet know not the difference between their clothes, the grade of their features, the condition of hygiene (excluding the really stinky ones). The only hierarchy was the superiority of the 7 yr olds over everyone else. None of them care if Marvin’s parents have connections to the high chancellor, or that little Samantha has worn the same dress for the past four days. If Elkader brings a piece of mutton as a snack the rest would give a damn if Anna’s mom were the sister to a duke. Is Mary happens to have a sheet the can all play with as a sail for the boat, or an invisibility cloak for secret missions, she’s popular and better than everyone else. Kim won’t care that she has the latest doll from the fashion capitol, if Karen has a teddy bear that is waterproof. Talus’s handmade stick plane will be the top desire for James next to the designer suits in his closet. Fun is better than the best money can buy. If everyone can’t have it outside, no one cares.
1Playground rules were in effect that even the Prince or Princess would face the fart pile for breaking. Satin or satchel they both look the same when covered with mud. Life was so much fairer and simpler as a young child. The rush of freedom, when your mum lets you explore the outside world. The grateful release when your mamma has no need to show you off to guests, and then the sickening depression when those doors are closed. Trapped, forced to grow up and be Lady-like.
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“Life sucks.” Soraya shouted to no one in particular, for the umpteenth time. She no longer wanted to think of her current position. Upon turning 8 last year, Lady Mira had pulled her daughter away from the world of childhood into girlhood. But unlike most upper class mother, this didn’t mean endless hours of pinafores or weaving aura bracelets as practice for the ring she would bestow on her betrothed when the time was right. No Mira had better plans for her daughter. Along with that, Soraya had spent most of her time reading literature and learning sparing arts from picture and books. But most of all she clung to her mother stories. Of a land where she could run to her heart’s content, after finishing her chores. No more Lady-stuff, just open field and music. And animals that were free to roam as well. “Why I would run with the horses, and fly with the larks. But you know my family liked predators, predators of the night to be precise. Oh, I would consult with owls, while my brother sang with the ‘gales. Life was magical then. How I wish!”
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Soraya knew when her mother had come to that point it was time to stop. But that wasn’t always the case. Sometimes the girl was so infatuated with the fairytales, she wouldn’t want them to stop. Then Mira would get very angry then calm and tell her that if Soraya were to try and fill her head with all Mir’s memories her head would burst like any other greedy soul. At this time Mira would scoop up her daughter and carry her to her marriage bed and sing songs in their little secret language. Soraya never wanted to anger her mother but she craved knowledge and her own piece of anger could assert it’s self on the day after her ninth birthday.
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Soraya, with the help of Lady Mira, had pasted a plastic smile for all the people she didn’t know in order to get through with the celebration. After everyone had gone home, Mira continued her ritual of telling her daughter about life back in her family. Of living close with nature that often little Mira would forget where she ended and the animals began. But she met Lord Vendt as a young silly girl, and then she found her place. Soraya scowled. She didn’t want to hear about how here parents met. “Mum tell me more of free life. Tell me of the horses, and the birds, and predators. Mum tell me more.” Mira stiffened and stopped speaking Soraya continued. “Tell me of Mai and Pai. How come we never visit them? Shouldn’t we go down one day and surprise them all? I’d really like to meet them.” Her mother stood shaking, “As long as I’m on this earth you will never see them. Horrible people.” Mira started coughing. She had the oddest thought that if she said more the coughing would stop. Mira Vendt clutched a chair trying to regulate her breathing. She looked back at her daughter. The child looked surprised but determined. No, she can’t, cough, cough. Be. I made sure that she wouldn’t. Mira thought hard and stood straight. Barely able to keep herself upright she walked over to Soraya and slapped the little girl across the face. Soraya fell to the ground cold. I shouldn’t even be able to do this still. But if she has those powers she’ll be fine. Gently she carried the girl back to the bed and laid the girl on top of her. For the last time Mira Vendt gave one last conscious thought. If this child shows any more signs let her get away far, far from here.
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NEW Chapter heres a small intro:
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This story begins with two lovers and a death….
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Grand Duchess Vendt has passed, survived by her husband, son, and young daughter. The whole city mourned her death. Along with a curious set of persons known to none. Perhaps a secret she took to her grave. None were more virtuous or mannered as she. Blithe and becoming, Mira H. Vendt died at age 23 peacefully in her sleep from an illness. She has left behind her family with all preparations made. She bid us her finally good bye in a courteous way. But of course Mira Vendt was a lady, and a lady always knows when to take her leave.
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Soraya sat absently arranging the leaves from the trees into different piles with her mind. Inside her father was trying to decide where they would put extra stuff now that Soraya had barred the attic. It barely bothered her father there was another attic that could be used, but Rosaline, Soraya’s new stepmother, was less than pleased. “Why does she hate me so? Sorrel is fit as fire clams, he’s excited about the baby. Yet she storms around in her own pity party. Not that she makes things hard but she completely ignores any sign of change. Josiah you must do something. That girl needs help, it’s not healthy to mourn this long. Maybe you should have her aura looked at by a specialist.” Soraya had left her hiding place after that. Rosaline wasn’t as dumb as she looked. But sometimes the constant sunny disposition drove her crazy!
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Soraya twirled her stick three feet in front of her atop the pond. At least Rosaline wasn’t like the stepmothers she’d read about. She wasn’t mean or evil in anyway. Soraya thought she could like Rosa but only in small doses. As for the damn seed that Rosa was bringing from her home in the city Soraya was skeptical. She didn’t particularly like children. Babies sure. But toddlers and up enraged her. Sigh. I want to be alone on an island. No one but animals and me. That would be perfect. Soraya often dreamt up her own little world complete with easels, paint, and inspiration. Nothing in the world inspired Soraya better than wildlife and wild life. The life that she could have lead if she mother hadn’t married her father, if she hadn’t died. Tears fell silently as Soraya recalled that fateful day. She had tried and succeeded in killing her mother. The grief and heavy breathing came again. Stop crying you, cu’ucu bird. It won’t change anything. You can’t change anything! Her body stopped shaking and Soraya continued playing in the water when her father called her back inside.
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