Friday, March 21, 2014

So, The Author from To Write or Not To Write decided to participate in Romantic Snippets Fortnight (or Thricenight). Yay! So go read her snippets!
Today I share a snippet from my story The Five Rings. This snippet does not depict a conversation or situation between two lovers, but it counts because Dill is married and the scene is chiefly concerned with that.

Dill’s mother had never actively spoken out against her father, but Dill had seen her open her mouth as if to speak, but change it to a sigh instead. As Dill explored the kitchen, early that first morning, in search of something to make for breakfast, she couldn’t imagine being her mother. Silent, patient, wounded; for almost twenty years. Dill was a shy girl, but she didn’t have her mother’s long suffering disposition. If her married life was anything like her mother’s, she didn’t know if she could stay there, just waiting to be hurt.

“I just don’t know what to think of him,” she said out loud, as she stirred up the fire.

“Of whom?” Bered’s voice startled her, and she nearly dropped the fire poker.

“Oh, no one in particular,” she managed to stammer. She dared not turn around, lest he see her red face.
“I – I hope you slept well,” he said, after a moment.
“Oh, yes,” Dill replied, forcing herself to sound cheerful.
“That’s good.”
Dill filled a kettle from the bucket of water and hung it over the fire. She heated another kettle of water and rummaged through the pantry to find what she needed. All the while, she ignore Bered, who stood awkwardly as if waiting for something.
“I’m going to go fill the water bucket,” she said after they had been in silence several moments. “Where is the well?”
“Oh, I can fill it,” Bered answered, crossing the floor swiftly to take the bucket from her. “Not that you couldn’t do it, but it’s a long walk and I don’t want to – I mean, I don’t mind you doing it – I just –” He stopped. “I'll do it.”
Dill didn’t mind. It was only half empty anyway; she had only been using it as an excuse to leave. She stirred the pot on the stove absently and sat down at the kitchen table. She put her head in her hands. Can I live like this? she asked herself. It would be exhausting; trying to stay cheerful, trying to keep him happy, and with no one to support her. He should be the one who supports me.
Dill had not heard the footsteps, so the hand on her shoulder startled her. Bered’s dark eyes looked concerned. Dill tried to smile.
“Thank you.” She took the bucket from him.
“I- you slept well?” He’d already asked. She stirred the kettle.
“Yes, my lord,” she said quietly.
“You needn’t call me that.” Dill’s mother had rarely called her husband by his name. It was strange to think of doing otherwise.
“It is only fitting, my lord.”
He sighed softly. Inwardly, Dill sighed herself.

Dill turned at the sudden shriek. Cecily threw herself at Dill, barely giving Dill time to put down her market basket. Dill let herself be embraced and held Cecily tight, fighting back tears when she thought of the last time they had been together: six months ago, it was. Before she was married.
“Oh, Cecily,” she murmured
“Dill, how have you been? It’s been ages!” Cecily held Dill at arms length and looked her over. Dill couldn’t keep back the tears anymore and she held out her trembling left hand, displaying the five ponderous rings.
“I’m married,” she whispered.
Cecily’s face changed immediately. “What? I didn’t know – I – I didn’t hear– Oh, Dill, what kind of man is he? Do you love him?”
Dill cried into Cecily’s shoulder. “He’s a big silent beast! I don’t even know him. How can I love him?”
Cecily was quiet. As Dill’s sobbs decreased, she slowly pushed Dill away and held out her own hand. A flash of gold caught Dill’s eye.
“What? Not you, too?”
Cecily nodded, unwontedly solemn. "I've been married two months. I've hated him two months." She covered her face with her hands. "If he doesn't go to town every night, he goes every other at least. To drink, to play cards, to– ugh!" She looked up, her eyes fierce. "Dill, don't put one ounce of trust in him. You give them an inch and they take it a mile."
  Cecily put her hands on Dill's shoulders and looked her right in the eye.
  "Don't trust him! Don't ever trust him."
Dill shivered.
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1 comment:

  1. A very interesting and nice blog.
    Greetings from Portugal

    Paulo Gonçalves


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