One Nights Massacre [part 1] &[title may change]

My bare feet patted heavily on the stone floor below; my mind confused and desperate. I needed to find someone. I needed their help.

I came to the church and stood looking up at its high staple and beautiful, colourful windows. I suddenly threw open its heavy doors and ran up the isle, to the crucifix hanging on the far wall. Falling to my knees, I clasped my hands in a prayer and wept. I begged my sins be forgotten and my story never told.

My story never told… It seemed strange to think that, thinking back. I was always the one wanting the attention and there I was, begging that my story would be a secret between the Almighty and me. For years now, I had never told anyone what had happened that night, but now, lying on my deathbed, I feel that it should be told. Just one last story, for old times sakes.

It started one morning. ‘Tis was beautiful and light. The sun was high and a gentle breeze blew. I had been working on the fields like always, now walking down the dusty path with my heavy basket in my arms, filled to the brim with corn. I was strolling along, when I first gazed my eyes upon him. His handsome smile and smooth skin. He had a little stubble and his hair fell into his eyes. He was strong built, like most of the men. He was wearing ordinary clothes, not anything rich and special. I could not tear my eyes away from him. He suddenly turned and looked at me. I quickly looked away. I did not see him again until that night.

Tonight was special. It was the end of autumn and soon to be winter. We always had a celebration, dancing around fires and singing and the likes. It was also a time for young women to meet young men and for families to come together. It was then that I saw him.

I was wearing my pale blue dress, and white ribbons in my hair, which was loose and wild and dark against my pale skin. I sat with my family, my sisters were excited, even the younger ones. My elder brothers had gone to find a girl to dance with, and my sisters and I were waiting for one to find us.

He stepped towards me and put out his hand. I was stunned for a moment, but I took it, in fear that if I didn’t I would regret this chance forever. He helped me up; my legs to shaky too stand. He led me to the biggest fire and we danced. He asked me my name.

‘Hope,’ I told him, laughing.

‘I’m Blane,’ he answered a grin upon his sweet face. I nodded and carried on dancing. After a while, he took my hand and led me away from the fires and crowds, away from the singing and the cheering. He took me to the fields beyond them and near the woods. It was much quieter, only the odd couple were hanging around where we were.

‘Blane,’ I asked. He turned and set his eyes on me, ‘where are we going?’ I asked. He grinned and took my hand gently. It was dangerous at night because the soldiers were roaming the area; raping the women and murdering the men whenever they felt like it. We were never safe anymore and I could just remember the how my life was before the war.

I store at Blane’s back as he led me wherever we were going. He occasionally glanced over his shoulder and grinned at me. I always got embarrassed when he looked at me.

‘You’ve turn red, Hope,’ he told me. I smiled, no longer feeling shy of him. Why should I? Scots did not kill Scots anymore, only the English killed us. He would not hurt me, I was not afraid of him anymore.

We stopped at the foot of the woods. I leaned against a tree, guessing what was coming next.

My younger self was like that, but now I am more careful.

The cheering was muted almost completely now. I stared over to the party, saw the flames rise high above the buildings. I remember thinking how unusual that was. Then a thought occurred to me. What if it was the English destroying my village? I tensed up, sure that I was right.

‘Blane? Are the fires supposed to be that high?’ I asked, pointing towards them. Blane turned and stared at them. He was quiet for a long time. Then suddenly we heard cries and yells. My heart stopped; I remembered that too clearly. I could not move. I remember the fear inside of me. Blane suddenly grabbed my arm and dragged me into the woods. My feet answered and ran. I did not look back, scared that I might see the English. Blane was my eyes, looking back behind us and moving me out the way of trees. Suddenly he gave out a cry and pulled me forward even faster. That’s when I looked over my shoulder and saw the English on horseback, riding after us.

I don’t think, looking back on it, that they had actually seen us, but were checking for any runners.

I grasped Blane’s hand tighter and forced my feet to move faster. Thoughts raced through my head. How had I gone from indescribably happy, to scared and angry? I thought of my family and tears poured down my cheeks. Where they okay or were they dead? I stopped thinking and just concentrate on running. Running was going to keep me alive. Blane suddenly stopped and pushed me in front of him and towards a tree.

‘Climb!’ he called. I obeyed and climbed as fast as I could. Blane climbed behind me. We got very high and Blane told me to stay. I sat on a branch and watched about ten or so people run under us, fleeing for their lives, as I had done. I wanted to save every one of them, but I could do nothing.

I remember watching silently in the dark. A woman ran just in front of my tree, glancing over her shoulder. She was young, a little older than me and she had blood on her once pretty dress. Her hair was a mess and she was exhausted. I moved my foot into a more comfortable position and a twig fell in front of her from up my tree, a twig I had accidentally moved and it had fallen down. She stopped and looked up, fear in her face. I looked back down at her, longing to help her. A horse galloped past and in a blink of an eye, the horseman pulled out his sword and swung it viciously. He galloped on without stopping, after the others. The woman was still looking up at me, but suddenly, a red line appeared along her throat and her head slipped off her neck. I was about to scream, but Blane’s hands flew up to my mouth and covered it. I gripped his other hand. The woman’s body went limp and fell to the ground, blood still pouring out and steaming in the cold night. Tears fell from my eyes and onto Blane’s hand. With his other hand, he pulled up my hand and kissed it.

We stayed there for a long time, too scared to come down. I did not fall asleep and I seldom blinked. I was shaking like a mad woman in the early morning and wet with dew. The birds had begun to come out and sing their songs, happily, unknown to what massacre had happened the night before. I felt alone. I barely knew Blane and yet I felt that I had only him to seek for guidance.