Parts One, Three and Five can be read at The Devil's Advocate.
Voilà! Part Six for your reading pleasure. ~
Part Six
After he left, I quickly forced down what was left of my soup as the cook handed me an apron and began to show me my duties in the kitchen. I was to serve food to the family every meal time, as well as supply them with light snacks and beverages as needed in between. I was also required to clean up the kitchen at the end of every meal and ensure that the cooking fires had been dampened every night before going to sleep.
Slowly, I adjusted to my new life. Physically, it was much easier than my previous one – I had fewer duties and I was always well fed – yet I was always emotionally exhausted at the end of every day. I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to engulf my soul, despite my material comforts. My nightmares haunted me incessantly, as night after night, I saw my hands covered again in the blood from my mother's head. Yet although I so longed to see my family again, I never tried to escape, for I knew that outside the walls of this luxurious abode, I was just another poor girl, replaceable with just one trip to the slave market.
One night, about six weeks into my stay at the Rothschild household, my nightmare returned. It was so vivid that I could almost feel my mother's warm blood seeping through my fingertips, and just as I saw the monster turn towards me with his fat lips curled in a smug grin, I awoke in a cold sweat. As I lay back down in the sheets that were now soaked, I looked out the small porthole in the room which had been assigned to me and saw the moon, gleaming in all its pockmarked glory. The white glow of its fullness set to a starry night called to me, and before I was fully awake, my legs had carried me off the bed and towards the small side door beside the kitchen that led out into the garden. This was where I always came on nights I couldn’t sleep or had been awoken by nightmares, which was almost every night. I walked out into the cool night, savouring the taste of the chilly night air. Sitting down on the cold stone bench, I lifted my face up to the equally cold moonlight and let my thoughts drift.
Suddenly, I heard voices behind me. Turning around, I spotted four figures several yards away from me. They hadn’t noticed my presence, and I crept up closer to them under the dense foliage to hear what they were saying.
“… filthy rich... Oughta try livin’ without yer father’s money for a change…”
I lifted the top of my head out of the underbrush and saw the speaker. He was a large, imposing boy of about sixteen who was glaring down menacingly at a younger boy. I peered at the latter’s cowering form and gasped when I realized only one boy had skin that could glow like that. Indeed, the moonlight had made Lucifer's pale skin shine with a glow that was even more unnatural than usual. Suddenly the clouds shifted, and the full force of the moon’s light shone down on his figure. At that moment, he looked nothing more than his namesake, the morning star. The glow intensified to an almost painful brightness, yet he appeared more vulnerable than ever, lonely as that first star which shines so brightly every morning.
I couldn't understand why Lucifer would cower from anybody. After all, he always seemed so confident, so proud whenever he was inside the house. Then I noticed the gleaming red on his shoulders and back – the same deep, rich red that had covered my hands as I held my mother, the very red that had plagued my dreams ever since that horrifying night. The boys advanced on Lucifer, holding their sticks, and called out to him: "Not so tough without yer rich daddy around, are ye, ye little pale freak?" And as Lucifer lay whimpering on the cold, hard street, they beat him, beat him mercilessly, continuing to draw blood until his gleaming white skin ran red with the dark liquid, the moon shining off of his still figure and casting a red shadow on the ground. I ran inside, terrified of what I had seen. My night time escapade, transformed into a scene of horror and brutality, forever seared the cruel reality of the world into my innocent mind.
Part Seven will be up tomorrow, Friday (thank goodness!) May 27, at The Devil's Advocate. ~
Voilà! Part Six for your reading pleasure. ~
Part Six
After he left, I quickly forced down what was left of my soup as the cook handed me an apron and began to show me my duties in the kitchen. I was to serve food to the family every meal time, as well as supply them with light snacks and beverages as needed in between. I was also required to clean up the kitchen at the end of every meal and ensure that the cooking fires had been dampened every night before going to sleep.
Slowly, I adjusted to my new life. Physically, it was much easier than my previous one – I had fewer duties and I was always well fed – yet I was always emotionally exhausted at the end of every day. I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to engulf my soul, despite my material comforts. My nightmares haunted me incessantly, as night after night, I saw my hands covered again in the blood from my mother's head. Yet although I so longed to see my family again, I never tried to escape, for I knew that outside the walls of this luxurious abode, I was just another poor girl, replaceable with just one trip to the slave market.
One night, about six weeks into my stay at the Rothschild household, my nightmare returned. It was so vivid that I could almost feel my mother's warm blood seeping through my fingertips, and just as I saw the monster turn towards me with his fat lips curled in a smug grin, I awoke in a cold sweat. As I lay back down in the sheets that were now soaked, I looked out the small porthole in the room which had been assigned to me and saw the moon, gleaming in all its pockmarked glory. The white glow of its fullness set to a starry night called to me, and before I was fully awake, my legs had carried me off the bed and towards the small side door beside the kitchen that led out into the garden. This was where I always came on nights I couldn’t sleep or had been awoken by nightmares, which was almost every night. I walked out into the cool night, savouring the taste of the chilly night air. Sitting down on the cold stone bench, I lifted my face up to the equally cold moonlight and let my thoughts drift.
Suddenly, I heard voices behind me. Turning around, I spotted four figures several yards away from me. They hadn’t noticed my presence, and I crept up closer to them under the dense foliage to hear what they were saying.
“… filthy rich... Oughta try livin’ without yer father’s money for a change…”
I lifted the top of my head out of the underbrush and saw the speaker. He was a large, imposing boy of about sixteen who was glaring down menacingly at a younger boy. I peered at the latter’s cowering form and gasped when I realized only one boy had skin that could glow like that. Indeed, the moonlight had made Lucifer's pale skin shine with a glow that was even more unnatural than usual. Suddenly the clouds shifted, and the full force of the moon’s light shone down on his figure. At that moment, he looked nothing more than his namesake, the morning star. The glow intensified to an almost painful brightness, yet he appeared more vulnerable than ever, lonely as that first star which shines so brightly every morning.
I couldn't understand why Lucifer would cower from anybody. After all, he always seemed so confident, so proud whenever he was inside the house. Then I noticed the gleaming red on his shoulders and back – the same deep, rich red that had covered my hands as I held my mother, the very red that had plagued my dreams ever since that horrifying night. The boys advanced on Lucifer, holding their sticks, and called out to him: "Not so tough without yer rich daddy around, are ye, ye little pale freak?" And as Lucifer lay whimpering on the cold, hard street, they beat him, beat him mercilessly, continuing to draw blood until his gleaming white skin ran red with the dark liquid, the moon shining off of his still figure and casting a red shadow on the ground. I ran inside, terrified of what I had seen. My night time escapade, transformed into a scene of horror and brutality, forever seared the cruel reality of the world into my innocent mind.
Part Seven will be up tomorrow, Friday (thank goodness!) May 27, at The Devil's Advocate. ~
By the way, for a hint at the reason for each of our picture choices, see the labels for each post.
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