Monday, October 26, 2009

Eyes of the Beloved Part 2 of 3

Happy Halloween week!

At the end of my last post we left thirteen year old Esther Gates standing at the rotting door of a strange old witch’s hut; sure her life is about to be snuffed out.

Hopeful that the old hag has the power to save her beloved sister Lillian, and unyielding in her quest to help her, she resists the urge to bolt and instead stands firm in her tracks, ready to face this demonic and sinister old woman and ask for a miracle.

Just in time for Halloween, let’s join them now and see what happens to sweet innocent Esther, her sister Lillian and the menacing witch. Enjoy part two of “Eyes of the Beloved” and again, “Thanks for reading!” Becky,

A voice smoldered coarsely in the darkness.
“What feeble minded imbecile hopes to sneak upon me?” It snarled.
Mustering all the courage in her thirteen-year-old soul she cleared her voice and managed somewhat insecurely,“I am Esther Gates. My Father is Michael Gates. We live at 521 Camden Lane…” Her voice weaker than she had meant.
The old woman cut her off sourly, “I know who you are and from where you come.” She growled severely. “What shameful thing has that idiot father of yours done now? Sending his child through the woods in the middle of the night? Does he have no care for your welfare?”
Esther prayed silently for strength to calm her shaking knees.
“My sister Lillian is very ill.” She offered between shallow breaths. “The Doctors’ do not believe she will live through the night.” She swallowed, trying to keep the lump in her throat down.
“So what— all must go down into the earth when their time is past. What have I to do with it?”
The moon once lost, now glowed brightly through a hole in the sky, exposing the old woman’s sagging face; her stretched jowls hovering beyond the tip of her rounded chin and wide, but sunken eyes that seemed exposed, as if she was missing all her eyelashes.
Something reflected in her hands. It was a long rusting knife. Esther shuddered and finished in one breath.
“My father begs of you to come. We have nowhere else to turn and are desperate for your help.”
“Desperate, eh?” She cajoled while coyly playing with the edge of the jagged and rusty knife with her grey coated tongue before pointing it at Esther. “And what do I get in return? A warm welcome into town at dawn in celebration for my heroic deed… or a witch burning at sunset?” She mocked, exposing her yellowed and rotting teeth—edging the knife at Esther’s thin white neck.
“I believe my father will reward you for your kindness.” She believed.
“Please come. You are our only hope.” She begged.

The old woman, in no hurry to go anywhere or to help anyone and whose heart was cold and calloused, felt only slightly amused at the child’s pleadings.
“Your parents are fools.” She licked her over sized lower lip with her slithery tongue. “I should slice both their throats as they sleep in their beds.” She sniffed disgustingly— put out by this annoyance. She knew the kind of business that Michael Gates dealt in dark alleyways and behind closed doors. It would serve the old miser right to suffer for all his under the table transactions that were drudged about in the dark circles she occasionally lent herself to. She felt justified in slamming the door on this young girl with the pleading eyes and innocent face. But as she began to step back the blue eyes stopped her.
There was something pure and truthful in them. Her features were simple. And brave. Undoubtedly brave to come all the way here in the midnight hour to the shadowy abode of a witch. Not possibly more than twelve or thirteen and yet here she stood waiting for an answer.
“Why should I help your sister? Do you love her?”
“Oh more than anything in the world.” Was her breathless answer.
“The only way for me to save her… the only way she will survive is that another be willing to sacrifice their life. Are you willing to do that?”
“If it would save my sister, yes I would. She is more beloved than I ever will be.”
The old woman stood in shock, staring at this young child with the pure face. Her love for her dying sister was unparalleled to anything she had seen in half her life time, which was, as near as anyone could tell, nearly as long as the trees.

Intrigued, a tight smirk spread across her gnarled purple lips.

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