I own nothing. This is an idea based off of a misunderstanding I had the first time I watched the play. Let's see where it takes us, shall we?
To anyone who reads my other stories: I apologize for the wait. I have been away for three weeks, and in those three weeks, my computer broke. It is now up and running, and new chapters should be coming your way pretty quick here. :)
Anyone who can guess who's point of view this is in gets cookies.
It was almost dark when she reached town. Still, before she even dropped her bags off at the inn, she made her way to the church, and the small graveyard tucked away behind it.
The graveyard had grown since she had last visited. That was one thing you could always count on with people. There were always deaths to be mourned and forgotten.
The swift spring breeze still had enough winter bite at it to numb her arms, as she pulled her shawl tighter around her. A part of her wanted to leave this visit for the morning, when the sun was out, warmth tickling her skin. In the daylight, surely the wind would not sound so eerie, the shadows so menacing.
But then she was there. Looking down at the grave in front of her, a tightness in her throat had her struggling for breath. Moritz Steifel.
"Poor Moritz." Her whisper swept around her, and she bent down, running her hand down the boy's stone, all that remained of him now. It had been almost five years. How many people remembered him? Did anyone? Or did they just push him aside, as they had when he was alive? Well, no matter. Their hands were stained with this, no matter how many times they tried to wash them clean. Her eyes were stinging, the last bits of dusk making the words swim. Perhaps that was why it took a moment to find the second grave.
But there it was. A few plots to the left lay Wendla Bergmann. Rubbing at her eyes, she read over the inscription. Died of anemia. Of course she did. The visitor put a hand over her mouth, trying to keep back a sob. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come back. Maybe it would have been better to leave this all buried.
Something made her pause, however. Something that told her it had been right, to come back. Someone had been looking after these graves, these graves, so free of clutter and overgrowing vines. She spared a moment to wonder at who. It was not the parents, that much was known. One of them, at least, had stayed.
Wiping at any remaining tears that lingered on her cheeks, she stood, brushing away the dirt that had collected on her knees. It was completely dark now, and her eyes felt swollen with the tears they had shed. She would come back with fresh flowers in the morning, she silently promised the graves. It was only right.
Picking up her lone bag at the edge of the graves, she continued back to the main road. Her feet traced familiar paths, and she hardly had to pay attention to where they took her. They knew the way. Suddenly, she felt fifteen again, innocent and free, standing with the other girls, wishing for children or no children, giggling as the boys went by. Such a long time ago.
Finally, she stopped. Dropping her bag at her feet, she ignored the nervous feeling in her stomach as she rang the inn's doorbell. Memories were worth little now, nothing more than smoke and smiles from an easier time. As she heard footsteps approaching, her heartbeat began to race. Would she recognize her? Did she want to be recognized? Maybe it wouldn't even be her, just some faceless husband her parents had found for her, or even worse, a complete stranger, saying that she had gone, that they were all gone, and that she should never have come back.
The door opened.
A familiar figure was standing behind it, pulling on a coat over her nightgown, and the girl standing outside let herself grin. They were older, yes, but one of them, at least, was still the same child she had once known.
The woman inside was already talking. "Here, come inside. It's a chilly night. Are you looking for a room?" Then she looked, really looked at the girl in front of her. The coat she had been struggling with slipped to the floor, and she brought both hands to her mouth. Her eyes were wide.
"Impossible."