Now, in reply to a review I got, I think that the feeling no pain thing was unrealistic also, but it could happen. I'm sure he felt pain in some way, but he was just so numb. It's like in Africa, some people get abducted, and their captors usually mutilate them. I read a story about one girl, and she was abducted and they sawed off her arms and she just wandered around in shock, not saying anything and she would've died if she hadn't stumbled upon a village. But I dunno. I just write what comes into my head.
This is the thoughts of a woman waiting for her husband to return from battle. It's a rather old tale, women waiting, but I believe that it was a truly painful time. Imagine what it would be like to have someone you love so much that you have dedicated your life to them, only to have them ripped away from you.
Disclaimer: I don't own. It.
"I'm finished mother!" exclaimed Marisal. Without question, I got up and took her plate away.
Placing hers and my own plate in a half-filled basin in the corner of the room.
Marisal left to play with Strianna, our 14-year-old donkey and close friend.
I ran my rough hands over the grainy dishes, scrubbing them as best I could without bruising my palms.
Soft, bitter tears escaped unwillingly out of the corners of my eyes and left salty trails down my cheeks.
"When will you come home, Finavarra?" I whispered to myself. "And Annar?"
The plates clattered in the basin as I angrily dropped them, the scalding water splashing up into my face, burning it slightly.
It wasn't fair. Our husbands and sons should not be sent to a war they cannot win. It is murder.
"Mommy," said Marisal in a worried voice. "why are you crying?"
I tried to smile up at her, trying to appear brave for her sake. "I just feel a little sick, Marisal."
SHe ran over to me and kissed me gently on the cheek.
I drew her onto my lap and cradled ehr gently, running my fingers through her soft blonde hair.
"It will be alright Mommy." she said. "The bad things will be over."
Smiling gently, I sent her to her bed to sleep. SHe should not stay up for my sake.
I picked the plate sout of the basin and dried them with my torn apron. Then I stacked them on our small table.
Our family is broken. I have little hope left that my husband and son will come back alive.
War is the wicked thing that tears people apart, leaving them hopeless, as I am.
It has been so long since I last saw my Fin's face. And Annar too. So long.
I can barely remember them.
I have little joy in my life, beside Marisal. She is my shinign light, my lighthouse, my preserver. She is the reason I breathe.
I only hope that Finavarra lives to see her grow. ANd that young Annar, only 19, will live to see his sister grow old.
Empty empty empty. Like the life has been sucked out of me. Numb in shock of what's happening.
But I will hold on.
Evil likes to have it's way.
Evil's partner is death, and death loves remorse.
Death also likes to have it's way.
I will not let them have their way with me.
I will hold on to what little pleasures are lef tin my life, and I will not give in to the impending sadness.
I will spite Death and Evil by living in great joy, even if I mourn in my heart.
Every morning, right before I wake up, I see my beloved men.
They are surrounding my, sittin gby me and comforting me enough to leave my bed and get up.
But alas, when I open my eyes, they have left me.
I only look forward to the mornings that I see their faces.
I long to see their real faces, but that is not for me to decide.
So until then, I have Marisal to guide me, bring me joy in my hollow pit.
And I will succeed.