Hello! This is the first story that I've written for FFN. I've been reading other people's stories for a while, and my fingers have been itching to write something of my own. It starts off kind of slow, but will pick up later. I'll try to post a new chapter once a week, but I'm doing a school sport and marching band and a bunch of clubs, so it could be less than that. Enjoy!
The woman and her husband loved each other very much. Anyone could see it. It was in their expressions as they walked down the street together. It was in their eyes as they gazed out across their farm. It was in the curve of their bodies as they held and comforted each other through the hard times. There was talk, cruel gossip, in the village when they got married so young. But anyone with a glimpse of them together could tell how very much they were in love. They were the same age, married at nineteen. She was kind, quietly pretty, and generous. He was sweet, especially to her, and had a certain quality that drew others to him. They built the farm together, and anyone who knew them would have said, "Of course. They do everything together." And they did- they were a perfect team. They worked in harmony, never getting in each other's way, always knowing what the other person needed of them. Their lives were about each other, and they were perfectly happy and in love.
Unfortunately, their happiness did no remain, for they longed for a baby, and no baby came. They talked to midwives and herbalists. They tried potions and rituals, but nothing worked. Then, four years after their marriage, the woman found that she was pregnant. They were shatteringly happy, elated. The years had been hard on them, but the love they felt for each other was just as strong, and their joy grew and grew. The woman carried the baby for nine months, and then summer came and she gave birth to a little boy. And their happiness was struck down, because although they loved their boy very much, he was too small, and sickly. And when winter arrived the couple buried a tiny, tiny coffin. Anyone looking at them could see their terrible, unbearable grief. Anyone looking could see the way they clung to each other, splashing hot tears on to the icy ground. Anyone looking could see how much they had aged from that sweet, young, lighthearted couple that had been full of hope.
It was three years later that the woman found that she was pregnant again. Their happiness this time came more slowly. It still came, though, for their hope had been returned to them. And when the baby was born, a healthy girl, it seemed their joy was complete. They named her Lila, because she was born just after the last of the light had slipped over the horizon.
Lila grew quickly, and for a time it seemed that the tragedies were over for this family. They had been blessed with good harvests for many years, and they were in no danger of going hungry. They expanded their lands to include part of a nearby forest and hired others to work in the fields so that they could spend more time together as a family. They introduced Lila to other children in the village. When her fifth birthday arrived, they hosted a party and it seemed like the whole village had come.
It was at this birthday party that Lila began to explore the woods. She had felt overwhelmed by all the people crowding into their little house, so she had slipped away just after the cake had been cut. In all the noise and excitement, it was some time before anyone noticed she was gone. Suddenly her parents' faces transformed from the smiles that had covered their faces all day. Lines that had not been seen in many years appeared on their faces. The villagers spread out to search the property, calling out for Lila in every nook and cranny. An hour passed before she was found by another child, a boy of ten named George. She was curled up in between the roots of a tree. Her black hair had gotten tangled in the bark as she slept. George shouted for his parents to come and help him. Lila's parents arrived a little later, and they picked her up and carried her home. They sent away the villagers and walked upstairs to put their child to bed.
This was not the last time that Lila disappeared into the woods. It was as if she hadn't known it was there, and now that she did, she spent every free moment exploring the forest. Soon her parents learned not to worry, that she would always come back. George, the boy who had found her, accompanied her sometimes on her adventures. The two children grew to be very close. George stayed over for dinner three nights a week, and soon many of the villagers forgot that they weren't brother and sister.
Their lives plodded along steadily, with only a few minor bumps, until Lila turned seven. Two weeks after Lila's birthday, her mother became very sick. She couldn't speak for coughing, and it became clear, as she grew weaker and weaker, that she was going to die. A month after they had first noticed the illness, she died. They buried her in the cemetery next to Lila's brother. A blanket of despair settled over their house. It seemed that this was the last sadness Lila's father could bear. He closed himself off to everyone except his daughter. He sold the farm and moved into town, where he became a merchant. His face settled into a permanent frown, and it seemed to everyone who had known him before that he had died with his wife, leaving a somber man in the place of one who would laugh with anyone, no matter how bad the joke. He never laughed again, and even for his daughter, smiles were rare.