Morning entree of June 22, 1842

(a continuation of the previous entree)

In just a moment's notice, the front door screeched, and their Dad came in. He was a thin and tall ginger, nothing like a typical woodsman much, scrawnier than those who`d be more commonly built on the arms. He had a clean smooth face, not rough at all. He had more of my father's complexion if anything of the sort. He simply waved and greeted his family, like as if it were routine. He didn't seem to mind my presence, as if I were expected to be here anyways. The exchange of it all seemed pleasant. Gabby would run up to him and give a hug around his legs while he'd lift her up against his chest to return the affection. They both laughed and giggled while the mother got up from the couch to join in. And of course, Eira wasn't left out of it either. She managed to stand up while her dad squatted to be bestowed her weak embrace. She coughed rather violently, but the man patted her back hard to let all the mucked blood pass out of her; she definitely didn't have a cold. He finally turned to me and greeted himself. His name was Agnus, and eventually the mother's name was revealed to be Frida.

It really was admirable for Gabby to just let me in like that. And especially the rest of the family. I remember feeling bad for intruding. They don't know who I am, nor did they know what I've done. Now and then, I knew I never deserved it. The coffee was unlike anything and they even offered their hot porridge to me.

I was never really a porridge eater, though. Growing up in the castle walls must have never really given me the notion of porridge's existence very much. I mean, I've seen porridge before, but perhaps only once or twice in my life, but those were times when I was beyond the confines of the castle walls, which even then wasn't very often. I've probably tried porridge once and remembered how unattractive it tasted. The texture was like that of slop, and taste as bland as wet crumpled paper. But the thing is, I had a bit of a change in sentiment towards the slop that was offered to me that day. After being chilled to the tips of my shriveled fingers down the unremorseful sores upon the entirety of my feet for the duration of my mind falling to pure maddening chaos for days, which had deluded my senses for what felt like months, the sight of a moldy white carpet in a bowl would take on a much different sort of figure in this new light. Before even having to try it, I could sense that perhaps the taste of wet crumpled paper might alike with the taste of the best seasoned roast duck. All notions against the want to eat the poor man's food might simply be nothing short of a delusion. A delusion for the delusional. Something that at the heat of the moment, I may have matured from. With the mere name of the offered dish, any delusional carelessness to eat had been eviscerated then filled with the roars of my demonic disparity for a bite.

I never knew as to why, whether it could have been out of foolish kindness or out of angst defeat, but the notion of a complete family portrait in front of me gave me the gesture that all was fine without me, and that it perhaps was my time to get going. Despite their offer, I managed to refuse both out of love and gloom. I gave my thanks to everyone and tried to leave the house.

I remembered stopping to taking another look at the paintings that hung upon the wall. At that time, I was able to make out everyone in the frames. The tilted portrait had Agnus, Frida, and Gabby, but Eira was in her own frame off to the side. The three were smiling. The tilt of the frame gave it an almost comical appeal to it. Anyone who'd see it could easily sense the radiating joy they had the day when they took the painting. And of course, the artist most definitely helped with the tone of the image, giving the solid background a bright blue color while exaggerating the little colorful features on all their clothes, emitting an aura of completeness of sorts. The frame that stood straight and stiff on the other hand was inhabited by a more serious figure. Eira smiled in the frame, but it felt more indescribable. It wasn't quite forced but it wasn't quite genuine either. It was a smile I could imagine having when in public, but never could I show it when I was alone. The artist managed to capture her essence quite differently that day. Darker tones of color used in the background, almost covering parts of Eira herself. Her head was tilted down more, unlike the family in the other frame, where literally all of them faced up in some way to some degree. I don't know if it truly meant anything, but the way her dirty blue eyes looked at the other portrait with her closed posture of cuffed hands resting on her legs, I may have almost saw myself. The notion may have meant something, or nothing at all, but in the midst of my fixated gaze at the frames, I could remember that something got into me that had led me to cry a bit. I could never remember the feeling nor replicate it, perhaps to my better fortunes now, but it felt spontaneous. It might have been me, but as my eyes shed a tear or two, I could see Eira's in a gloomy glisten as well. Her face was towards the tilted frame in almost silent desperation to leave her's and enter their's, but in return, it was only Gabby who'd seem to acknowledge Eira and respond with a teasing smirk of joyful ignorance.

I may have stood in solemn for a good minute before I was noticed again. I don't know whether they've called me out before then, for it seemed my ears were deaf for the moment, and any details in my peripheral sights were a blinding blur. I was about to leave, but I was called forth again. I don't think they've noticed my crying though. I've tried to make it as discreet as I could then. Maybe I was just staring awkwardly at the frames for too long for them not to notice. I'd prefer to think that.

"Hey Elsa?" Frida's voice was the first to snap me out of my trance. "Are you sure you don't want our porridge, not even, something for your travels?"

It was at that point that I didn't really have any words to say. My mind was blank, no sway in whether I wanted to stay more than I should go, or whether I should go more than I wanted to stay. I mean, I never had any plans to where I would go, at least no where physically. But in staying, I may be comfortable and perhaps healthy by the end of it all, but where after? As far as saw it, and see it, staying would just prolong my end for what I've known then. But if I stayed permanently, would I not be much trouble to them? Maybe not in they way they may think, but most inevitably in the way I think. A rather chilling thought to consider.

"Nonsense Elsa!" said Agnus abruptly, "come on down, you must sit, you're practically all skin and bones under your garments. No way we'll let you out without a satisfying meal. Isn't that right?"

"Yeah Elsa, don't go, what about the story I wanted to tell you?"

My choice was made for me.

They most definitely noticed my fascination with the frames and didn't really hesitate to ask me about them as I mumbled back to the dining table.

Agnus said something like, "So, do you like our portraits?"

And I replied with a nod but pointed out how crooked the family one was.

"Oh, that? we prefer it that way. It makes it look more joyful, don't you think?" said Frida.

I nodded and made my seat.

(to be continued)