Pear Child

A/N: My mom used to tell this story to me…. Except this is my version.

Edna was tired. Tired, tired, tired of having nothing to do, no one to talk to, to take care of… Her youngest brother, Tom, had died of yellow fever. He was the last to pass, the last she had. She mourned bitterly for him, and that resolved her decision to have a child- not a husband, they were just nuisances- but a child, she needed.

The old pear tree lived (lived) by her cottage step- always had, ever since her Greatest-of-Greats-Grandmother had migrated from the woods, deciding to take on life in the little hollow besides them. A tale was told of it-it was said, by all near and far, that it granted a wish, every century, granted a wish that held a heart in it.

Whether it had any truth in it or not, not a year had passed, when Edna was woken by a shrill cry, a wail that split the night, carrying in it all the fear and anger of a deserted being.

Edna's view: I rushed into the still-cold night- a month into spring, yet the bone chilling frost persisted- a strange feeling of anxiety and expectance bursting through my blood. The moonlight cast an aloof slip of light over the tiny meadow that served as my lands, illuminating a small child, standing 'neath Greatest's pear tree, silent tear-tracks frozen on her cheeks. As her large, green, eyes turned to my face, I knew she was mine. "Come here, love, come here." I whispered, breaking an awaiting silence. And my arms reached out to her.

Edna named the child "Myra" meaning "long-awaited", and the years passed, quickly, far too- much so, and soon Myra was fifteen, a beautiful young woman. Men would want her, Edna knew, and Myra would leave. Oh, she would visit, she would, but she wouldn't be Edna's anymore.

She had golden-tinted skin; raspberry lips. Golden-brown hair-it fell, it cascaded, down her back. Her eyes were green, filled with warmth- and love, love for him. As was her heart. She was gentle, sweet- timid even; but she was strong. She was kind. He was pale-deathly pale. His black hair-black as night- made that quite obvious. His eyes were, brown, filled with emotion. He was strong, despite his recent illness. He was friendly, and loyal. He had a good heart, a kind heart. He was a good worker- and he loved her, dearly. She looked like a fairy, as she swept up the aisle. He was her 'prince'. They would take care of each other.

They moved to the woods. They built a house- of stones, not trees. She couldn't bear to kill a plant. "They'll miss life." She said fiercely. "Like I would. Like you would." And that ended that.

There was an old pear tree. She used to climb it. Even when she got to old, she would stare at it, drink it in. " I think…I think pear trees are important to me…very important…as if…if…" and she would trail off vaguely, leaving a puzzled listener behind.

Their children were a mix of both of them. A pleasant, beautiful mix. They all loved pears; they worked hard. They loved deeply, purely. They lived, in Ebullience. As we have since Time.

The End