Thanks so much for reviews, I love getting them – the more you review, the
more I'll write!
***
A Hard Man To Predict
Faye is stood on the beach, just in the place where the sea meets the sand. The wind is blowing her hair back from her face, and ocean is cold on her bare feet, but she doesn't notice. She can't see the docks from here; she can't see any signs of civilisation at all because of the fog that has rolled in overnight. Here, it is just her, the sea, and the gulls that appear overhead, floating in the ether. I'm still me; she repeats to herself over and over again, I'm still me. Nothing's changed, I'm still me.
After staring out of her window all night at the swirling mists, then coming down here as soon as the grey of dawn began to light the sky, she should be tired. She isn't though, she is just numb. She wonders if maybe she should feel happy, or angry, or anything at all except this deadness. No one knows where she is, and it will most likely be a few hours before anyone realises she's gone. Matthew will notice when she doesn't turn up at the smithy, but she doesn't care. She doesn't care what anyone thinks or how worried anyone might be, none of it matters.
She listens to the muffled sounds of the sea and the calls of the gulls, feels the squash of the sand under her feet. Her shoes are somewhere on the rocks behind her but if they were washed away by the tide Faye wouldn't notice. I'm still me, she tries to convince herself, I'm still who I've always been.
She isn't though, now there is something else in her. She isn't an innocent; she is the offspring of a whore and a pirate, she is degraded, sullied. Her existence is wrong, and right now at this moment she wants to throw herself into the ocean and have it wash away the filth of her being. The desire to be clean of the horror she is covered in almost overwhelms her, and in the terror of it an unearthly shriek tears itself from her throat as her legs give way under her, throwing her onto the wet sand. There she lies, with the salt from her eyes mixing with the salt of the ocean.
Time passes, she doesn't know how much. She just stays there, weak, getting colder and colder. After a fleeting age, she hauls herself to her feet, and tries to brush off the wet slabs of sand that are clinging resolutely to her dress. No good can come of her laying on a frozen beach, starving and damp and risking catching cold. The sudden passion spent, she hunts for her shoes, and shoves her arctic sandy feet into them.
It is a long uncomfortable walk back to the house, and the streets are still deserted. Deliberately, she takes the route home that does not go past the smithy. Sneaking in through the servants' entrance as quietly as possible, she makes her tortuous way up to her room. She washes the sand off her in her basin, and changes her dress. The silence in her head is deafening. From the corridor on the floor below she can her some of the other servants stirring. She pulls herself out of her room, and goes to work. Elizabeth notices her uncharacteristic silence as Faye helps her to get dressed, but merely assumes that she hasn't slept well. This is partly true, and Faye doesn't correct her when she voices her concerns.
Next Faye goes to Jack's room, and finds that he has already washed and dressed himself. Faye is beginning to find this small assertion of independence mildly annoying, but as it saves her work, she doesn't complain, and simply sends Jack down to breakfast.
Edward however, is sat up in bed playing with a toy soldier, making him march across the bedclothes. He beams at Faye, and babbles inanely to her chirpily as she washes his face and hands and scrubs behind his ears. But then she realises he has stopped talking, and is looking at her expectantly.
'Sorry, what did you say?'
Edward gives a small sigh, as if lamenting the attention span of grown ups, and repeats his question.
'What does 'eternity' mean?'
'Where did you hear a word like that?'
'In church, yesterday.'
Ah yes, Faye reminds herself, the family always go to church with the Governor. She herself rarely went, mainly because she never had the time.
'It means forever. Always.'
'How long is always?' Edward asks, as Faye slips his shirt over his head.
'It's a very long time.'
'Oh' Edward is thoughtful for a moment.
In the quiet of Edward's thought, his brother burst through the door.
'I thought I told you to go to breakfast.'
'It's not being served yet.' Turning to his younger brother, Jack says 'Hurry up slow coach.'
'Don't be rude,' Faye chides.
Edward ignores Jack completely, and slowly pushes his feet into his shoes. 'Will you be my friend for eternity, Faye? Will you stay here with me, forever and ever and ever?'
Jack scoffs. 'She's not our friend, she's our maid. She has to do as we say.' Faye cuffs him gently around the ear.
'When you're big you can tell the maids what to do, but for now, you have to do as I say.'
'But Faye,' says Edward, tugging on her dress insistently, 'Will you be here forever?'
In a split second, her life stretches out before her, unrolling like an Egyptian carpet. Another sixty years of being a maid and then nothing, a wasted life. Faye feels like she is choking.
'Go down to breakfast, both of you,' she tells them, sternly 'I'm sure they'll be dishing it up now.'
They hurtle out of the door, racing each other, as Faye stands with all her sensation flooding back in through the numbness. She can't stay here, not forever. The question rises unbidden, where would she go? Faye listens for a moment, and through the open window she dimly hears the lapping of the answer.
***
Apologies for getting a bit poetic, but never mind, sometimes it's nice to be lyrical. Should I get poetic more often, or is it annoying? Press the little button down there and tell me!
***
A Hard Man To Predict
Faye is stood on the beach, just in the place where the sea meets the sand. The wind is blowing her hair back from her face, and ocean is cold on her bare feet, but she doesn't notice. She can't see the docks from here; she can't see any signs of civilisation at all because of the fog that has rolled in overnight. Here, it is just her, the sea, and the gulls that appear overhead, floating in the ether. I'm still me; she repeats to herself over and over again, I'm still me. Nothing's changed, I'm still me.
After staring out of her window all night at the swirling mists, then coming down here as soon as the grey of dawn began to light the sky, she should be tired. She isn't though, she is just numb. She wonders if maybe she should feel happy, or angry, or anything at all except this deadness. No one knows where she is, and it will most likely be a few hours before anyone realises she's gone. Matthew will notice when she doesn't turn up at the smithy, but she doesn't care. She doesn't care what anyone thinks or how worried anyone might be, none of it matters.
She listens to the muffled sounds of the sea and the calls of the gulls, feels the squash of the sand under her feet. Her shoes are somewhere on the rocks behind her but if they were washed away by the tide Faye wouldn't notice. I'm still me, she tries to convince herself, I'm still who I've always been.
She isn't though, now there is something else in her. She isn't an innocent; she is the offspring of a whore and a pirate, she is degraded, sullied. Her existence is wrong, and right now at this moment she wants to throw herself into the ocean and have it wash away the filth of her being. The desire to be clean of the horror she is covered in almost overwhelms her, and in the terror of it an unearthly shriek tears itself from her throat as her legs give way under her, throwing her onto the wet sand. There she lies, with the salt from her eyes mixing with the salt of the ocean.
Time passes, she doesn't know how much. She just stays there, weak, getting colder and colder. After a fleeting age, she hauls herself to her feet, and tries to brush off the wet slabs of sand that are clinging resolutely to her dress. No good can come of her laying on a frozen beach, starving and damp and risking catching cold. The sudden passion spent, she hunts for her shoes, and shoves her arctic sandy feet into them.
It is a long uncomfortable walk back to the house, and the streets are still deserted. Deliberately, she takes the route home that does not go past the smithy. Sneaking in through the servants' entrance as quietly as possible, she makes her tortuous way up to her room. She washes the sand off her in her basin, and changes her dress. The silence in her head is deafening. From the corridor on the floor below she can her some of the other servants stirring. She pulls herself out of her room, and goes to work. Elizabeth notices her uncharacteristic silence as Faye helps her to get dressed, but merely assumes that she hasn't slept well. This is partly true, and Faye doesn't correct her when she voices her concerns.
Next Faye goes to Jack's room, and finds that he has already washed and dressed himself. Faye is beginning to find this small assertion of independence mildly annoying, but as it saves her work, she doesn't complain, and simply sends Jack down to breakfast.
Edward however, is sat up in bed playing with a toy soldier, making him march across the bedclothes. He beams at Faye, and babbles inanely to her chirpily as she washes his face and hands and scrubs behind his ears. But then she realises he has stopped talking, and is looking at her expectantly.
'Sorry, what did you say?'
Edward gives a small sigh, as if lamenting the attention span of grown ups, and repeats his question.
'What does 'eternity' mean?'
'Where did you hear a word like that?'
'In church, yesterday.'
Ah yes, Faye reminds herself, the family always go to church with the Governor. She herself rarely went, mainly because she never had the time.
'It means forever. Always.'
'How long is always?' Edward asks, as Faye slips his shirt over his head.
'It's a very long time.'
'Oh' Edward is thoughtful for a moment.
In the quiet of Edward's thought, his brother burst through the door.
'I thought I told you to go to breakfast.'
'It's not being served yet.' Turning to his younger brother, Jack says 'Hurry up slow coach.'
'Don't be rude,' Faye chides.
Edward ignores Jack completely, and slowly pushes his feet into his shoes. 'Will you be my friend for eternity, Faye? Will you stay here with me, forever and ever and ever?'
Jack scoffs. 'She's not our friend, she's our maid. She has to do as we say.' Faye cuffs him gently around the ear.
'When you're big you can tell the maids what to do, but for now, you have to do as I say.'
'But Faye,' says Edward, tugging on her dress insistently, 'Will you be here forever?'
In a split second, her life stretches out before her, unrolling like an Egyptian carpet. Another sixty years of being a maid and then nothing, a wasted life. Faye feels like she is choking.
'Go down to breakfast, both of you,' she tells them, sternly 'I'm sure they'll be dishing it up now.'
They hurtle out of the door, racing each other, as Faye stands with all her sensation flooding back in through the numbness. She can't stay here, not forever. The question rises unbidden, where would she go? Faye listens for a moment, and through the open window she dimly hears the lapping of the answer.
***
Apologies for getting a bit poetic, but never mind, sometimes it's nice to be lyrical. Should I get poetic more often, or is it annoying? Press the little button down there and tell me!
