Prenderghast Puzzle

Interlude: Just Fairytales

April 16th, 1703

Cecily loved to tell her daughter stories.

Her husband didn't approve; he feared it would inspire bad ideas, or worse, scare her. But there was really no reason for him to believe this, for even Julia, small child that she was, knew they weren't real.

Sometimes she would tell the child fairytales, other times legends of knights, and on the rare occasion she would share an ancient myth or two she'd learned from her grandmother in England. Julia would snuggle under the covers, silent and still as a mouse, her hair free and face uncovered for the first time that day, and listen with rapture to her mother's story.

Today's story was something she was sure her husband wouldn't approve of. Honestly, underneath the intimidating Judge façade beat something else other than the ice cold heart of a Protestant Englishman—they were raised on dark truths, and he still wanted to mollycoddle his youngest from reality. He and Cecily both knew it was because it was going to be a little harder for Julia than it was for everyone else, but if kept this up, she was going to end up fighting with him about their daughter even getting an education at all.

And it was something Cecily, despite her husband's wishes, felt she needed to do. Her father-in-law Isaac wasn't going to last forever in the condition he was in, and when the time came that he was no longer around, she didn't want her daughter going into shock. When she'd asked for advice from the other women of the village on the situation, Adelheid Prenderghast had risen to the occasion, and Cecily was inclined to follow her advice, as she seemed to have more experience with the topic than most.

"…and so they tried to plug the Earthen Hole, you see, because they couldn't retrieve those who had already fallen in, but they wanted to stop it somehow. But the King of the Snamuh saw that the attempt was a failure, and all over the city, randomly, the young, the old, the rich and the poor were being snapped up mysteriously, no matter where they were, and falling down the Earthen Hole."

Cecily paused, waiting for her daughter to ask a question or make a comment like she usually did. She didn't, and the mother gave a tight smile and her daughter's quiet disposition, pulling the quilt a little closer to her daughter's chin. Yes, their child was far smarter than her husband wanted—she probably already realized the true nature of the story. "The King finally sighed in defeat, and ordered the people to prepare to move far away. They could no longer stay, with the Earthen Hole swallowing his people at random. But no matter where they ventured, the Earthen Hole followed them, snapping up a few more people each time. And it follows them to this day, wherever the people of Snamuh go—they are all destined to eventually fall into the Earthen Hole."

Cecily stood up, pushed her sitting stool over to the far wall of the nursery, and went over to the bed again to kiss her daughter goodnight.

"What happened to them down there?"

The mother paused. "Down the Earthen Hole?"

"Yes." Demanding in tone but not in word. She was indeed her father's daughter.

Cecily considered her response. "No one knows. Nobody's ever come out. Some say they can hear voices from the bottom, but most think they're crazy for trying to get so close."

"That's stupid." Her daughter spoke with no hesitation at all. "If people want to know, they should either take the chance for answers they were given or find out on their own."

Cecily sighed. "It's not as simple as that. It was believed to be too dangerous to approach; people considered it taboo."

"Why? Shouldn't that be a personal decision?" Arguing like her father, too. One of these days Cecily was going to show him how much Julia was learning just from his big mouth. "Even if it's a stupid decision, it's still theirs."

Well that was a creepy line of thought for a child to have. She wondered how much the child truly understood of what she was saying.

Cecily picked up the candle from her daughter's bedside table, walking towards the entrance to the hall. She paused in the doorway. "I suppose it's because their families would miss them, no matter how stupid they are."

Julia didn't reply that time, and then Cecily left, and she was alone in the room.

Cecily never knew exactly how long that story would stay with her child.

AN: Well this is an interesting conversation to have with your child before bedtime. But considering the first thing Puritans taught their children was that the human race was inherently sinful and that they had no right to exist so pray for mercy, I think this kind of thing is right up their alley. (No, seriously—one of the first things pilgrim children learned to read was a nursery rhyme about Adam and Eve, ending with a line about how all of them are the results of sin, that their very existence is wrong. Therefore, they need to make it up to god by being a good little devout protestants! :D Reading old Puritan Hornbooks and Primers is disturbing—no wonder their society was so messed up; they psychologically broke their children every chance they got).

If you haven't figured it out yet, this little story was an allegory about death, mainly, but also has other themes that are… foretelling. Multiple ones. I'm not really going to set any more stuks at this time in Julia's life, but the context of this is that Julia's grandfather, Isaac Hopkins, is dying (essentially from old age), and Cecily is trying to prepare Julia mentally. Of course, Julia, being scarily like her father at times, sees right through this.

And again, this acts as foreshadowing for… a lot of things. And reveals that Julia was not the first Hopkins to have good relations with the Prenderghast family—Cecily was particularly friendly and sympathetic with Aggie's grandmother, Adelheid, whom she saw as wise.

From this point onward until the half-point, we will be focusing far more on Aggie and the Colonial Prenderghasts: Adelheid Prenderghast, Manon "Mary" Prenderghast, Samuel Prenderghast, and their three children.

Next Time, an Update in Act 3: A return to the Conway House—from Norman's memories!