A Passing Party II

“I have sent you money all of these years haven’t I? What more do you want?” The man’s gun was no longer on Lena, who had shuffled back to press herself into a corner, it was now pointed at the table where the family was still seated. The old woman still stood, but the gun wasn’t pointed at her.

“I don’t want your money, I want the world to know about you, and that’s what’s going to happen. Police have been called; they’ll come and arrest a man saying he’s your son. Journalists will come and investigate, like they so inconveniently do, and find a birth certificate and then the world will know it’s true. I have been waiting all of these years for you eightieth birthday, waiting because I thought that maybe when you were about to die you would finally admit that I existed. Then I get your letter and all it tells me is that you won’t write me in your will because then people would wonder who I was. You think that I care about the stupid money?!” the man’s voice had risen to a higher and higher volume as he had spoken. People were looking in through the glass sections of the doors that separated us from the main restaurant and I knew that they could hear what was being said if they were close enough to the doors.

“Is he serious mother, is he really related to us?” Henrietta asked.

“These must be my dear brother and sister, though they never knew it. Greetings siblings, I’m Noah, mother’s embarrassment, her shame.”

“Shut up,” snapped the old woman, some force coming back into her voice for a second but now the man with the gun was grinning like a mad man. I was starting to suspect that was exactly what he was.

“I don’t think so, my dear mother. You see I think I’m going to talk until the police get here and all of these people will hear everything. Then the police will show up and arrest me and there will be a trial, where I will say everything again there. Then, since I haven’t fired this gun, I won’t even be in jail that long and I will continue talking. I’ll just talk and talk and talk. You won’t be there to enjoy my speech but I will be sure to be very eloquent. So will the press I’m sure. Armed man holds up restaurant his mother is holding a party at with a gun, high society shocked. Oh, and they will be once I start talking.” The old woman turned pale as her seated son and daughter looked at her in askance.

The man with the gun, Noah, walked slowly around the table, patting a grandchild on the head, touching the adults on the shoulder, until he was face to face with his mother. They stared at each other for a moment, and then he put his arm around her shoulders, the arm that wasn’t still holding the gun.

“Such a touching family reunion isn’t it. You’ve told me about all of them in your letters. Why, this must be the first time you hugged me since I was one, I think I might cry,” he didn’t look like it. Especially not when you watched the gun, which was pointed right at his mother’s head, it didn’t seem a very emotional moment. “Let’s see here, that’s my younger brother, Edward, I always wanted to meet you. When I was younger I daydreamed about playing with you, you look nothing like I imagined. And you would be my younger sister Henrietta, horrible name, no wonder you ended up so pinch faced.” The gun went to point at each of them as he talked, while his arm remained around his mother’s frail shoulders.

“I’m afraid you have the advantage on us, we’ve never heard of you,” Edward said, gathering his courage.

“Of course you didn’t, imagine that. You see mother, here, dear, dear mother, didn’t want people to know of me. You’re father was always a stickler on moral things and our mother, our mother who thinks that money is everything, knew that he wouldn’t marry her if he knew she had had a baby born out of wedlock. A baby I might add she didn’t even know the father of. She knew she had a chance, if only he didn’t find out about me. So I was shipped off to her parents, and never spoken of. The only news I only heard of her was the letters she wrote her parents and enclosed with the money they demanded for my care every month. When I got older and moved out I kept getting money from her, to keep quiet and out of sight, and never, ever say who my mother was. Disgusting isn’t it?”

“Mother?” asked Edward. “Is he really my brother?” his tone was accusing. The old woman looked as if she was about to say something but couldn’t decide what to say. It was the first time I had seen her lost for words the whole night.

“You don’t have to worry, I have a job, I haven’t spent a penny of the money mother has sent me all these years. Since I have announced our kinship I haven’t earned it. I’ll give it to you and Henrietta since our poor mother doesn’t have the time left to enjoy it.” Noah reached into his trench coat and pulled out a large stack of bills which he threw on the table. It was more money then I had seen in my whole life. Instantly every eye at the table was attracted to it. Henrietta looked like she was about to reach for it, but then her hand pulled back. Edward looked at it greedily but even he didn’t reach out for it. It was as if the old woman, their mother, wasn’t even there. Now it was between the three siblings and they looked at each other carefully.

“You are a good and honest man to be willing to give up all the money but even if you’ve come here, you deserve the money,” Henrietta finally said, though she still looked wistfully in the direction of the money. “After all, we always got a lot of money from Mother, far more then that over the years I’m sure. We’ve never had to work a day in our lives.”

“And you didn’t speak for all of these years about her, which should earn you something,” Edward added. “You are our older brother; we don’t deny you our mother’s money though we didn’t know you existed before.”

Noah’s face was something to behold at that moment, as was the old woman’s. Noah’s face was one of bafflement at being accepted even though he had never been before. His mother’s was the face of shock that her children would team up in a united front against her wishes. It was a touching moment to see Edward walk over and hug Noah, something that made Noah so shocked he dropped his gun. Edward kicked it under the table cloth and for an instant I thought that was the whole reason why he had shown Noah affection, but no, he continued to hug Noah even then. Henrietta stood and she joined them, touching both of them on the shoulders, a big happy family. Their mother looked perfectly outraged but I was far more concerned with the men in police uniforms I could see pushing through the crowd when I looked through the glass panels on the door.

“The cops are coming,” I announced, looking at Noah. He reluctantly let go of his brother and sister and stepped away from them.

“It’s been fun,” he said, going back into his cut, precise voice. I was starting to realize the voice was a sign he was under stress and scared rather then to hide anything.

“What are you talking about?” Henrietta asked. “You are staying right here. Members of our family don’t go to prison if we can help it. Edward, you talk to them. Mother has treated you pretty shabbily Noah, so of course you wouldn’t know but with money you can get out of anything short of murder in this world.”

Edward motioned for Lena and I to step away from the doors and he opened them wide to the public. I had thought that the crowd would come running forward but they hung back, even the police, everyone had seen the gun. Now one of the hostages was throwing open the doors and another one was standing in front of the attacker in a very protective way.

“I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding,” Edward announced. I would have sunk into the floor from embarrassment to address such a crowd, and in such a situation. Edward however was full of confidence. You could tell by his voice. “This man is our brother; he was simply playing a practical joke on us. He went overboard but I’m sure all of this can be sorted out.” I looked over and couldn’t help but liking the look on Noah’s face when Edward called him brother.

A Passing Party

“Hello, and what can I get for you tonight?” I asked. My formal black and white uniform was tight and uncomfortable but I made an effort to make my smile look sincere. The woman I was asked was part of a party who had rented the banquette hall and I had been assigned to serve their needs. I knew why I had been told to wear my nice clothing, it was a very fancy dress party, and all of the guests were dressed in their best.

“Bring us, oh, let’s say twenty bottles of the most expensive wine you have in the house,” the old lady told me, her frail voice trembled slightly with age but she was grinning.

“And to eat?” I asked. I couldn’t help but think it would be nice to be rich.

“One of everything I think dear. We’re having a party after all and I’m only spending my children’s inheritance,” the old woman laughed to herself quietly. A couple of people who looked like her children laughed as well but they didn’t look like they found it as funny at all. In fact they looked more like they were angry about the comment. “I’m turning eighty tomorrow you know,” the old woman continued and suddenly everything became clear to me.

“I congratulate you,” I said, giving the formal response, though I was shuddering on the inside to be talking to someone who would die the next day. The old lady was sharp though, because she looked at me and laughed, and I knew that she could read the fear in my eyes.

“My husband has been undead for the last twenty years and he always looks so peaceful. I figure it can’t be so bad if he looks so happy lying there,” the woman said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shuddered, this time obviously.

I had always hated the word undead to refer to people who were dead but couldn’t die. People who had been killed, people who had been terminally sick for some reason or another but weren’t yet eighty. “Dying” before you were eighty amounted to losing the use of everything but your eyes and mind, leading to the term undead. My grandmother is undead and I dread visiting her. It was the years of chain smoking that did it to her, lung cancer, when I was two, did her in. My parents used to say it was wonderful that she could meet her granddaughter even though she was “dead”, I thought it was creepy. I still do, sometimes I think it would have been a mercy if she was able to die, I mean really die, before she turned eighty. I can’t imagine an enjoyable continued existence being unable to consume food, or speak, or hear, or move. On the other side of the coin however I could see, if our bodies didn’t simply turn off at eighty and stop working, how someone could live longer then that while in great pain. I shook off my morbid thoughts when I saw the boss looking my way.

“I will come back shortly with your drinks,” I told the old woman and she took her hand off of my arm. As soon as I had walked away I could hear her and her son arguing about something, but I couldn’t hear what it was. Her daughter then chimed in, her voice was shrill enough that it carried.

“Mother, you shouldn’t spend so much you know. We are going to have to pay the bills after you pass on you know.”

“Don’t worry about that Henrietta Parker; your mother hasn’t become a total fool in her own age. I’ve already paid for everything; you won’t be getting any debt. Though you will get your greedy little hands on less money” said the old woman loud enough so that the whole restaurant could hear and the daughter turned bright red with embarrassment.

“Who’s the old spite fire in the corner?” my boss asked me as I gathered wine glasses at the bar.

“She’s celebrating her eightieth birthday,” I explained.

“Another one,” groaned my boss.

“Sir?” I asked, confused.

“We had a guy in here last night who didn’t leave before midnight, died sitting right here at the bar. Of course it was a big fuss, makes us look bad that sort of thing. Would you ask her to please leave before midnight?” I nodded but I was dreading the task

When I returned to the table in the banquette hall the woman, her son, and her daughter were all arguing, with various grandchildren watching. The son seemed to be trying to act as mediator and they were both verbally attacking him while they continued to spar with each other as well. I expected them to shut up when I approached the table but they didn’t.

“This is going to be the last time we’re together like this, could we please act like a happy family this once?” the son was saying when I walked up.

“Acting all self righteous isn’t an endearing trait Edward,” his mother told him. “Especially when you are as much after my money as she is. I suppose it runs in the family, after all I married your father for money.”

“Mother,” exclaimed her daughter.

“It’s true Henrietta and squealing at it won’t change that. I wouldn’t have married him at all except that he lied about his age and told me he was older. How was I to know that he was younger then me? I would have divorced him if it wasn’t for the fact that he would give me all of the money I wanted for whatever, no questions asked. I saved a lot of that money, as you two know all too well, invested it, watched it grow. Good thing I did, since he crashed into that tree and “died” his trustees wouldn’t let me touch a penny. All money and account frozen until he actually dies, I have hated that law for the last twenty years.”

I had poured everyone at the table the wine they wanted while this speech went on. The children preferring the sweet fruity stuff I watered it down like my boss told me to, and the adult went for dry red mostly. Everyone at the table had now fallen silent; I thought to myself maybe it wasn’t so bad knowing when you were going to die. You could be as open as you wanted to be, about anything, and there wouldn’t be any repercussions on you. It was a good way to get one final hit in, one final blow to people you hated, before you passed, and it was obvious the woman hated her children. It was kind of obvious that she hated everyone. I had heard of people who, the day before their eightieth birthday went on murdering sprees, after all, there was no way for the law to touch them. At least the old woman in front of me seemed willing to only strike verbal blows rather then physical ones.

“Excuse me ma’am,” I said once I had poured all of the drinks. “The management would like to request that you leave before midnight, no offense.”

“Oh, none taken dear. The night is young yet even if I’m not and I intend to spend a lot more money then I can just in this place. You can’t take it with you after all.”

I was on my way to the kitchen to see if any of the food for the party was done when I bit of stillness caught my eye. When someone isn’t moving and bustling on a Friday night then you know something is wrong. It was our hostess at the cash register and a man was standing next to her. I thought about screaming but fought it down. It would only cause panic. The man standing beside her had a gun, and it was pressed into her side. If something went wrong she would join the undead I disliked so much. I caught the boss’s eye and I could tell that he had also noticed the situation, which was good; it took the weight off of my shoulders. The whole thing wasn’t my responsibility if they boss had seen it. I went over to him to see if he wanted me to do anything.

“He says he won’t hurt any of us on the condition that we take him to the banquette hall. We can’t do that, if it gets out that I handed my customers to a gun wielding mad man I’ll be ruined,” my boss whispered to me.

“She’s going to die in a few hours anyway,” I whispered back, horrified by the words that were coming out of my mouth but somehow unable to stop them. “She won’t suffer from being undead for those few hours.”

“Do you have any proof that he’s after the old lady and not the whole party?” My boss asked. I had to admit that I didn’t. “I bet that whole party is loaded, the perfect mark for any thief, and good hostages.”

“Well so is Lena,” I pointed out with a slight head jerk at the hostess. “She has the till and is just as good as a hostage. Sooner or later he’s going to get tired of holding that gun to her without making any process and do something about it.”

“That’s the strange thing, he hasn’t asked us for any money at all, he seems only interested in the banquette hall,” my boss told me. I was getting more nervous by the second; this sounded a lot like someone with a person vendetta against the old lady or her family members. That meant that it would end in blood probably. If it was a hired killing or revenge then the killer couldn’t be bought off with the contents of our safe in the back.

“So what are we going to do? We can’t tell him where the banquette hall is, and we can’t let him just stand there or he might feel like shooting someone to get his idea across,” my voice must have shown my panic.

“Take a couple of deep breaths and go over and talk with him. He isn’t interested in us so you won’t be in any danger. I am going to the back while you distract him and call the police.”

I wished that I had just pretended that I hadn’t seen the gun in Lena’s side. The thought of putting myself next to a man with a gun wasn’t a pleasant one for me. I knew I couldn’t die yet, but I didn’t like the idea of being a human vegetable either. Sometimes I had nightmares about it, sitting there, watching the world go by without being able to participate. I never have wanted to be a hero. Still someone had to be a distraction. I took a deep breath and approached Lena and the man cautiously. I wanted to hold my hands up, on reflex, but I had to resist. That would have only drawn the customers’ attention to the situation, causing mass panic.

“Excuse me sir, but we were wondering if we gave up the money in the safe to you, you would kindly leave?” I asked. The boss and I hadn’t talked about it but I doubt he would object to it. He would spend a lot of money to protect the reputation of the restaurant.

“Not interested,” said the man. I looked at him closely, trying to memorize his features in case I had to identify him. There wasn’t much I could say about him however, except that he was tall and Caucasian. He was wearing a hat that was pulled down far enough that I couldn’t really see his face. The rest of him was covered with a large trench coat, the collar pulled up. He obviously meant to make it so that if he got away the police wouldn’t be able to find him.

“What are you interested in then?” I asked. I had to keep him talking until my boss could finish his phone call.

“Where’s the banquette room?” the man answered with a question of his own.

“I’m sorry but we can’t endanger our customers,” I told him. Lena whimpered as he pressed the gun harder into her stomach.

“Then no deal,” said the man. Lena finally cracked; I was surprised she had lasted as long as she had.

“I’ll show you where it is, just please don’t shoot me,” she begged.

“Lena, you can’t,” I said for show though I didn’t blame her at all. In her situation as soon as the gun had been pointed at me I would have caved in.

“Watch me Joanne; I don’t have to give up all my active years for some old woman who is going to die in a few hours anyway. If you take the gun away I’ll show you where the banquette room is,” Lena said, turning to the man with the gun.

“The gun stays. Show me,” the man said. I wondered if he was trying to make it so we couldn’t identify his voice either, talking in such a short, clipped manner. I still was pretty sure I could recognize it again if I had to. I was paying very close attention to every detail; the police would want them I was sure.

“How do you know he is after the old woman Lena,” I argued, desperately. The boss wasn’t back from the phone yet and I was starting to wonder if he had no intention of coming out again even after the phone call was made. Were Lena and I meant to be the sacrifices? It wasn’t a pleasant thought, I found myself imagining living in one of the many undead homes for the rest of my life. “Who are you after sir?” I asked, rushing after him and Lena. I knew that a couple of the customers had noticed what was going on and were wisely deciding to stay out of it.

“None of your business,” the man snapped and I fell back a little ways, worried that the gun was going to be pointed at me. When that didn’t happen I caught back up. I could disappear, I had done what I could now, but I doubted I could live with the guilt. He was already through the banquette room doors by the time I caught up. He stopped just inside the room and I slipped through the doors after him right before he slammed them shut. He reached behind himself and locked the door; we were now all alone with a man with a gun. The fact that I couldn’t truly die yet was only a very small comfort.

“Hello mother,” the man with the gun said and the old woman stood up slowly from the table.

“I take it you got my message son,” she said, no fear in her voice. Of course I wouldn’t be scared either if I knew that I would die soon no matter what happened. Well I would be scared in general, but not any more scared then I was already if a man burst into the room with a gun. I was far more shocked by the fact that she called the man son.

“I got it,” the man said shortly and pushed his hat back so we could see his face. He looked nothing like his mother, brother or sisters. If he really was her son then I could only guess that he took after his father whoever that was.

“If you got my letter then why are you here? And in such a conspicuous manner as well, this ruins everything,” the old woman sounded angry.

“Surely it is a son’s duty to visit his dying mother,” said the man with the gun, his voice was mocking.

To be continued...

Fairy Springs II

“Watch this,” he said. He disappeared and the next minute was sitting across the fire from me. The others burst into laughter at my expression.

“He didn’t do anything special,” the man sitting next to me told me, slapping me on the back. “He only disappeared like I did and then ran around the fire. You have to watch him, he’s a tricky one.”

“That, coming from you Robin, is indeed an honor,” Al said, giving a courtly bow. I looked around the fire again. The people who surrounded me couldn’t be human; my mind was starting to accept that, though with some difficulty. Humans couldn’t pop out of sight like that, not even trickery could explain something like this.

“So, uh, the little flying ones are your babies,” I said, trying to grasp at the straws of my sanity.

“That’s right, here, follow me,” said the man, or should I say fairy, called Robin. He led me down to the water edge and pointed. At first I didn’t even see what I was supposed to be looking at and then I noticed an old two litter soda bottle floating on the water. A part of the bottle’s side had been cut away and a lot of very tiny people were using it as a boat. As soon as they saw us they all took off in flight, to hover around us.

“Who’s this?” asked a chorus of voices. I had expected them to have high pitched voices but instead their voices were just as mature as an adult’s, just quieter. Introductions were made and we all sat on the bank. I was scared to move; in the dark the tiny figures around me in the grass couldn’t be seen. I couldn’t imagine what the repercussions would be if I accidently sat on one of them.

“I almost wish the kids did glow like they do in the pictures,” I commented. Robin smiled and snapped his fingers; suddenly every single one of the children had a glowing spot on their forehead.

“I thought all you could do was disappear and reappear,” I exclaimed.

“Well I never said that,” Robin said shrugging. He was clearly amused by my reaction. “I said we got better at magic as we got older. I can go around the world in half an hour and you’re impressed by a little light,” he chuckled but it wasn’t a mocking laugh. He was truly amused, as if I had just told a good joke. A small fairy flitted up to his shoulder and perched there, hugging his cheek.

“Yours?” I asked. Her tiny features showed some family resemblance to my cheerful guide’s.

“My niece, my sister’s daughter, her parents are dead though so I am raising her. Cute huh?” he asked and his face broke into paternal pride. The girl sat on his should, her feet swinging, and laughed.

“You’re bragging again Uncle,” she said in the soft voice of a child.

“I thought that fairies were immortal,” I commented.

“I wish,” the girl said. Her uncle put a finger on top of her head.

“You only wish that now, my girl, because you are young,” Robin told her. “Fairies are not immortal, just long living. We are born and instantly can speak like an adult but we are so small we can’t mix with humans for a long time. The same go for as we get older, only then it’s because we are too large. Fairies don’t age like you humans do; you can tell how old we are by our height. Back when I sat in the Globe Theater everyone thought that I was some nobleman’s child, that’s how big I was. I’ve grown.”

“So how long will it take until she can be around humans, I mean at a size that won’t cause alarm?” I asked. I was taken aback by how matter of fact I was becoming about all of this. I was a man of science, or at least science was what I believed in. It was my wife who believed in fairies and everything and I had always thought her a little silly for it. Now here I was asking about the relative aging of humans and fairies.

“Your great-grandchildren might think she’s about two,” Robin told me, shooing the little girl off of his shoulder. “By the time you humans have started living on mars she might be too tall to be around humans anymore. You ever heard of giants?”

“In fairytales,” I said.

“Exactly, stories about fairies, of course not many of us reach that age. Only about one in ten, our bodies stop working, just like humans, and it’s harder on our bodies as we get bigger.” It had been a long time since I had heard such calm description of death. Then I remembered Robin telling his niece that people sometimes wished for death and found myself wondering if all fairies were morbid or if it was just Robin.

“So you’ve seen a lot over the years huh?” I asked, trying to chance the subject. Robin was no long the laughing, easygoing man I had seen while he was around the others. The children were now gone, off in their boat again, and he had become more serious. He was like a court jester; now that his audience was gone he no longer made the attempt to pretend he was always happy.

“I was born in the middle ages. Fairies can’t catch human diseases, or any diseases for that matter, but I watched the Black Death. Back in those days we still lured off human children to play with us. Do you know, if a human stays with us they also can’t get sick, nor do they grow up, they die at the same age they would normally, but never having got past the age we stole them at. They are perfect playmates for the children but it got too much attention from the humans, and they die far too soon. The children still bring back one or two every once in a while, but it’s not so common.”

“Really, so all of those stories about people being spirited away by the fairy folk are true?”

“Usually only children, very few exceptions, once a human is around fairy folk for long enough you see, they can never leave them,” Robin told me. “If you would like I suppose you could stick around. The others seem to like you as well. You wouldn’t have to deal with getting old. I know you humans worry about that. Very uncomfortable I understand.”

I stood with that, Robin continued to sit there on the bank, he was smiling again but it was no longer a pleasant smile. It was threatening and I wondered if he was really threatening or if it was just how I saw him. You don’t want immortality, I told myself, you only think that you do because you are young. No, it’s because I’m old and scared by it, and he knows it. Now Robin was actually laughing.

“I knew that you were smarter then most of the other humans I’ve met. You know to listen to your fear and go with it, most people ignore it when offered youth. You want to leave now, I can tell. I’ve scared you; get going before you aren’t able to leave anymore.”

I fled, a glow showing me the way, a parting gesture from Robin I was sure. Then I was back in the motel room, covered with mud from when I had slipped on dew covered grass in my head long dash. My wife was still asleep peacefully and I thought about waking her and telling her what happened. Then I realized it wasn’t the sort of thing you told anyone, not even people who claimed to believe in fairies. Human belief was a very shallow thing, the day before I would have believed that I didn’t want to age.

Fairy Springs

“Welcome to Fairy Springs, we hope to make your stay most enjoyable,” the tour guide announced. I somehow doubted that I would enjoy my stay but it made my wife happy so I would have to at least pretend. I considered this trip a way of paying her back for dragging her to all of the train museums when I was writing my thesis.

One look at our motel room had put me in a bad mood. In my opinion a grown man shouldn’t sleep in a room that is decorated to look like it belongs to a five year old girl. It was a pink a purple monstrosity, with pictures of frolicking faeries hanging on the walls. My wife loved it though; she loved anything that had to do with faeries. She had already gone down to the hotel gift shop and purchased a bottle of what she was assured was fairy dust. It looked an awful lot like craft glitter to me.

Now we were on the Fairy Springs official tour. The happy look on my wife’s face was only making me feel a little better about the whole thing. The guide was wearing gauze wings and a little tiara. I felt embarrassed for her. Not as embarrassed as when I saw what they had their male employees wearing. Once again I was thankful that my father had insisted that I go to college.

“Early settlers to this area, a couple hundred years ago, wrote about fairies being seen on these very waters, boating and fishing. There have been no sightings in the recent past but is it no wonder,” the guide motioned to a rather polluted creek. “As much as we try to keep the water clean people from up river are always throwing things in it. We can only imagine what the fairies would say if they could see it now.”

I couldn’t help thinking what a waste of money this whole thing was at that. We had paid five dollars for a tour of a polluted creek? That was a bit much. It wasn’t much improved by the fairy circle that my wife insisted we pose it to have the guide take our pictures.

Around one o’clock in the morning I found myself still awake in our unmasculine motel room. My wife was soundly snoring beside me, greatly aided by a couple of sleeping pills. I refuse to take them, messing with my body with pills has never been my thing. Instead I decided to go out and have a cigarette with the hope that the night air would make me sleepy. Staring at the dancing fairies on the wall definitely wasn’t working.

This late at night the whole complex was empty. I finished my cigarette in the shelter of the motel awning but I still didn’t feel sleepy and it was a nice night. A walk would do me good I decided. I could see the stars, far above me I knew, but they looked closer here then they did at our home in the city. Without telling myself where I was going, I found myself along the creek our guide had shown us that morning. It was more pleasant after dark, you couldn’t see the garbage, and the grass was soft beneath my feet.

I had walked for maybe ten minuets when I saw a flicker of firelight; it was coming from underneath a decorative bridge over the creek. Vandals, partying teenagers, or homeless, no matter what the explanation I wasn’t very interested in getting closer. I started to walk around the bridge when a man suddenly appeared out of the darkness. I think we both saw each other around the same time and I think we both jumped. He recovered from his surprise faster then I did however.

“Well, not normal for a human to be wandering around here this time of night,” he exclaimed. This didn’t assure me of his sanity by any means.

“Who’re you talking to Al?” asked a voice from the direction of the bridge.

“This fellow here,” the one called Al motioned. I turned to look behind me to see who had spoken but I didn’t see anyone. Even as I looked I heard a voice close to my ear speak again.

“Well bring him over to the fire then, what are you waiting for Al? It’s been a long time since we had a guest. Welcome,” I could feel a light touch on my shoulder and then it was gone. Al motioned for me to follow but to be honest I felt more like running. I don’t believe in ghosts but I was pretty sure I had just encountered one. I didn’t have the chance to run however, the man grabbed my arm and pulled me along. He was strong and I am not, I didn’t have my choice but to go.

The group sitting around the fire was an odd one. There were adults and children both, all dressed in what looked to be castoffs. One girl, she looked about three, ran up to the man called Al as he led me into the firelight. She was dressed in a worn looking buckskin dress.

“Father, look at what mother gave me. She says it’s the dress she was wearing when she met you,” the girl said. I was shocked by how adult her voice was even though her face and height were so youthful.

“Women save anything huh?” Al said. “I can’t believe those dresses were so fashionable then. Well have a seat,” he added. I sat down and I could feel the eyes of everyone around fire on me. I knew they expected me to say something but I wasn’t sure what.

“Hi,” I finally said lamely. The staring continued. “So, uh, do you guys live here?”

“For the last thousand years,” said a woman who was about a head taller then I am. “My parents brought me here when I was only a baby and we’ve lived her ever since.”

“So you’re saying you’re a thousand years old. What exactly do you think you are?” I wanted to know. I am sure I sounded rude but the others didn’t seem to mind, actually they seemed amused.

“This is called Fairy Springs isn’t it?” Al asked me. “Who do you think live here?”

“You’re trying to say you’re those glittery little flying people who can do magic?” I asked skeptically. Clearly these people were even more insane then I had thought, though they didn’t seem as dangerous as I had been afraid of. Al was a big man; he looked kind of like the pictures of lumberjacks, hearing him claim to be a fairy was very, very, odd.

“You’re thinking of the babies,” a man sitting next to me informed me. “I don’t know about the glittering but the babies are little and they can fly. As we get older we lose our wings, it’s a survival thing you see. The babies need wings to fly because they can’t do magic very well yet. As we get older and better at magic we don’t need the wings anymore.” The man suddenly disappeared right before my eyes and then reappeared. “See, the babies can’t do that yet so of course they need some way to get away from danger.” I didn’t respond at first, I was too busy trying to tell my head that there was no way that I had just seen that. Al saw my face and decided to show off a little as well.

To be continued...

Lady Lily II

I wanted to see if I could tell a multiple generational story in a short story. I personally think I failed to write it well, but it isn't too bad.

The change in family fortune was marked by the good marriage Richard’s grandfather had been able to make but he soon became greedy for the other things spoken of in the journal. The next thing he decided to find, with the assistance of his wife, was the deed to the family land. He had gotten it into his head that he wanted to build a home for his own family in the traditional spot.

Isabelle had shed all of the heavy and useless gold, retaining only enough in her luggage to make herself attractive to some merchant who was looking for a bride. It would be a larger dowry then her father had set aside for her anyway. She had also brought a few more coins for traveling expensive. The bulk of the money however was safely hidden and would never find its way to her future husband’s hands, or into the greedy clutches of thieves. She could tell that her guard was relieved to be rid of the gold even though they now had two prisoners to deal with instead. The husband and wife that had been left behind with the gold would be missed but they were serving an important role.

With nowhere else to go Isabelle directed the party to head to the only other mansion she knew, though it was distasteful for her. Her father had once tried to arrange a marriage between herself and the man they were going to see. The man, Sir Lawrence as she had been told to call him, was much older then she was and it had soon become obvious that the marriage wasn’t welcome by either party. In the end her father had given up but now that Isabelle had no where else to go.

Since the luggage had been reduced they traveled slightly faster now. The biggest problem now was the furniture and household goods she was traveling with. It didn’t carry the mental anxiety of the gold but it was heavier and more awkward then the gold had been. Isabelle had already decided that if she found a place it would go the way the gold had. The wood furniture and the tapestries couldn’t be buried but there had to be a place to keep it.

Isabelle tried to ignore the look the guards and servants gave her when she arrived at the gates and asked to see the master of the manor with no prior warning. She knew that what she was doing was improper and probably extremely rude but it couldn’t be helped. Her guards were left in the courtyard and her servants sent to the stable while she was sent up to see Sir Lawrence. They weren’t willing to let strange, armed, men into the manor without the master of the building giving them his approval first.

Sir Lawrence was waiting for her in his office and she was aware of the coldness of his greeting even as he smiled at her and kissed her hand. She was not a welcome guest but that was fine because she hadn’t expected to be. He was now married happily from everything that she had heard. She was happy for him, to be content with an arranged marriage was something rare and to be treasured.

“Forgive me for coming to you like this but I seek advice,” Isabelle said. She was suddenly more aware then she had been for days of how forward she had become, she lowered her eyes in a ladylike fashion hurriedly.

“I will see what I can do but I would have been able to prepare advice better had I realized you were coming,” he said, the sound of reproach in his voice.

“I realize that, I didn’t have much time to plan however. Father, Mother, Brother, my sisters, they have all died with the sickness. Our estates were burned by peasants who blamed the nobles for the hard times that have come to all of us and I was forced to flee. I had no idea who I should go to if not you. You were a friend of my fathers so I thought you might find something for me.”

“This is sudden but I will see what I can do. It will take a couple of weeks for me to send out letters in your interest and receive replies however. Until then you might wish to stay with me. I will be your representative since you lack a father or brother to look after you.”

“You are very kind, sir,” said Isabelle, pleasantly surprised.

“Not at all, it is my duty as a gentleman to look after a young lady in need,” Sir Lawrence said smoothly, a little too smoothly for Isabelle’s taste.

For the first time since she had left home Isabelle was allowed a week of rest and relaxation. She ate at the first table with the family, she spent quiet hours sewing with the woman of the house, and she went on hunting trips and watched what entertainment came to the manor. She could almost forget everything that had happened and let down her guard. Her servants and men had been found lodging in the manor with the staff of the master of the house. Mary continued to sleep in her room as a high level servant and she helped lull Isabelle into peace with her obvious pleasure in their housing.

Isabelle and Mary were sewing in the lady’s parlor when Sir Lawrence sent word that Isabelle was to come and see him in his office. Isabelle was surprised, it could only be business but it had only been a week. That was surely not enough time for any correspondence to be answered. Still she put down her embroidery and followed the messenger to where the master of the house was seated behind his desk.

“You will be pleased to hear that I have written to His Majesty on the matter of the peasant revolt on your lands and they will surely send troops to put it down. They want to stop this sort of thing quickly before it spreads and sends the country into even greater chaos.”

“I thank you, Sir,” Isabelle said. This couldn’t be all that Sir Lawrence wanted to speak with her about. If it was just that he could have mentioned it at the dinner table that night. As she expected he cleared his throat to speak again.

“I was thinking that I am after a fashion your guardian,” he began and Isabelle nodded her head in acknowledgement. “This being the case I was thinking that it would be best if you put your good and property in my hands to manage for you until you find a worthy husband.”

“I have been taught to manage property from a young age. I am sure that I am able to myself until the day you speak of comes. I wouldn’t like to be a greater burden on you then I already am after all. The amount of money I was able to salvage was small, almost nothing but my dowry, so you see it is a size that I am all too able to see about.” Sir Lawrence looked shocked.

“Were you really able to save so little?” he demanded, forgetting himself for a moment.

“I’m afraid so, what you see is what we were able to save and that is all,” Isabelle lied. She had no idea why but suddenly she didn’t trust the master of the house at all. He might have been well intentioned but she had a lot staked in what she had saved and she didn’t want him to have even a part of it, no matter how much he helped her. He told her she could go but it didn’t make her mind rest easier and so she went in search of her servants and guards. They were at work with the other servants and men so she sent Mary to seek them all out and bring them up to her room.

“None of you have told anyone with what we did with the gold have you? Or that we even had it right?” she asked once they were all gathered and everyone shook their heads. “Well keep it that way, I suspect our hosts motives.”

“Are we leaving then?” asked one of the guards.

“Not yet Joseph, but everyone be ready just in case we do have to leave. At the moment our host is still searching his connections for something to be done with me. I am willing to let him do that. Actually he may be working even faster now that I have told him that I have nothing but my dowry. I would wager he wants me out of his hair fast now that he has nothing to get from me.”

No one really had anything to say on the subject of her money and their host but they all swore they wouldn’t say anything to anyone about her stashed money a left her. Isabelle knew that she should feel relived but she was too busy worrying about what would come next. She no longer felt safe in Sir Lawrence’s manor but couldn’t leave yet. In this state of mind she couldn’t keep the lady of the house good company so she went out for a solitary walk in the garden. It wasn’t as solitary as she first had thought however, Joseph and a pretty house maid walked stood in a secluded corner together. Isabelle crept forward to eavesdrop.

“The others say, and that includes the mistress, that we will be leaving in around a week’s time,” Joseph was saying mournfully. “I would never have thought we would leave so soon.”

“Do you have to go,” asked the maid. She was obviously upset and from the look of it had been crying in the recent past.

“I have thought about sneaking away at the last minute and staying,” Joseph admitted. “They are in such a hurry that they wouldn’t stop to look for me for long. Then we could stay together. I’m sure I could find something to do around these parts, especially with the plague killing so many workers.”

“You would stay for me?” asked the maid, her face was alight. Isabelle sneaked off from the scene; she had no wish to interrupt. She waited by the roses until the maid walked down the path. Joseph remained for a time in the place they had spoken, clearly in thought. Isabelle decided to make his deliberations easier.

“Joseph, I had no idea you liked the gardens,” she said as she walked up. He jumped and then looked around in confusion.

“Oh, Lady Isabelle, I had no idea you were there,” he said. He looked ready to bolt so Isabelle decided to get right to the point.

“If you had wanted to stay here you could have just asked. Actually that would work out fine for me so long as you think that your friend the maid could be trusted that is.”

“Lizzy can be trusted, I promise you that,” said Joseph. “Anything you want us to do, just say the word.”

“I hope she merits your confidence. This is what I was thinking, the household furniture will not be put to use if I am married, the man usually has his own after all. It is also bulky and heavy to carry while traveling. It would be best if it could be left behind like the gold. The problem is that I wouldn’t like the family furniture to fall into the hands of Sir Lawrence who has no right to it. It would be much better if I just had someone to look after it, like a promising young couple who was in my pay for instance.”

“Where would we hide it though? This land is all Sir Lawrence’s and he would defiantly notice if you set out without the furniture. He would look for it”

“So we don’t hide it until after we are out of his sight. You come with us until we find a place close by where we can hide it. I’m sure we can buy some land for you somewhere along the road. Either that or we find a house abandoned by people fleeing the plague.”

“I would rather we bought the land if it’s all the same to you Lady Isabelle. You never know these days if land was abandoned of if the people died and I don’t want to catch the plague.”

“Point made, I would rather you survived as well. After all if you die and someone else buys the house I might lose my furniture.” Lady Lily could tell by the look on Joseph’s face that he thought her selfish and she knew that it hadn’t come over that she had only been joking. She didn’t bother to clear it up though. Instead she went to go to the lady’s parlor. Now that they had sorted everything out she felt more at ease. Even up to some light needlepoint and conversation with Mary or the lady of the house.

The clues in the journal with the rose on it had been more abstract to find the furniture. The gold had been straight forward instructions; the furniture’s directions had a starting point of a now nonexistent mansion. Even worse they were in the terms of sewing and embroidery stitches. If it hadn’t been for Richard’s grandmother being with on the treasure hunt Richard suspected they would still be looking.

The guardians of the furniture hadn’t been as faithful as they guards of the gold. Either that or they hadn’t had children. Either way in the end Richard’s grandfather and grandmother had been forced to search for a long time until they could find the place that had once been called Iris Farm. Even then they had to sneak into an old, boarded up house. Inside, they found the hidden door described cryptically in their ancestress’s journal. In a cellar under the dilapidated building was all of the elderly furniture, which neither of the two were interested in, and the deed to the family land.

Richard’s father had grown up around the things of the family’s past. The furniture had gone into the new mansion on the family’s traditional land. It was no wonder that Richard’s father had become very interested in the items of heraldry. They hadn’t been looked for before because Richard’s grandfather hadn’t cared if he was a knight or not so long as he was rich. Richard’s father however cared very much, he was far more interested in the family’s noble past then the money, as only rich people can disregard and scorn wealth.

Once Isabelle had waved goodbye to Joseph and Lizzy, a happy newly wed couple at their brand new farm, she and her party traveled west. Sir Lawrence had found a suitable match for her far sooner then she had expected. He wasn’t a nobleman and Isabelle had told Sir Lawrence not to tell the man she was nobility. Sir Lawrence had been confused but Isabelle had told him she didn’t want people to marry her simply because of her status. She knew that he thought her foolish but she didn’t care. She had no intension that her items of heraldry would make it to her future husband’s home and she didn’t want him to expect them.

Isabelle had received a message from her husband to be and it filled her with hope. It was short and to the point but the personality behind it was far more likable then any of the men who her father had tried to marry her off to. It wasn’t a letter that expected her to love him just from reading it, nor did it push her into marrying him. It simply told her about whom he was and that he would be honored if he became her husband. She could accept someone who could write a letter proposing to her in such terms; it was a lot better then the men who had written her such letters in the past. They had been flowery and overly demanding.

Isabelle had been worried that Sir Lawrence would insist on sending some men to escort her, in which case she wouldn’t have been able to hide anything. Sir Lawrence had obviously washed his hands of her however. The final thing he had done for her was to give her the white horse she now rode on. There were some whispered questions about who would give her away at the wedding among her party but Isabelle ignored them. She was an orphan and the sole heir to everything her father had owned, she could give away herself.

It was a relief to be away from people scheming to get her money but now she had to find a good hiding place for the trappings of heraldry. Without the coat of arms and the documents attesting to nobility her husband wouldn’t take her father’s title. She promised herself that if it would benefit them she would bring out all of her hidden goods but she doubted she would. She liked the feeling of power that came with being in control of them and as soon as she was married they would become her husband’s, even if he didn’t know about them.

They were almost half way to their destination when a horseman rode up behind them. Isabelle’s guards instantly were alert and ready for trouble but they need not have worried, the man was in the livery of another noble house. He jumped down from his horse and bowed low to Isabelle.

“Do I have the honor of addressing Lady Lily?” he asked.

“You do, who are you from?” demanded Isabelle. She didn’t recognize the livery colors and enough had happened to her already that she was becoming distrustful of everyone.

“Lady Elizabeth, wife of the Lord of Windon, heard that you were staying with Sir Lawrence and sent me to invite you to visit them. I must have passed you on the road but Sir Lawrence told me that I would find you on this road.” Isabelle smiled in spite of herself. Elizabeth was one of her best friends and would stand by her no matter what.

Elizabeth greeted them in the hall as soon as they were announced at the gate. Throwing all propriety aside she embraced Isabelle and then pulled her up the stairs. The servants were led away to some under stair area where they would be more comfortable and they were left alone.

“I heard about your family and your land, it must have been so hard on you. What are you going to do now? I’m sure my husband will allow you to stay as long as you need to. He’s so kind and gives me everything I need.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t. I have been promised in marriage to a George Rose. We were just on our way to him when your messenger found us.”

“The merchant,” said Elizabeth, wrinkling her nose with distain. “There’s talk about him buying a noble title. I think it’s disgusting how the royal family now does such things. They make it so that anyone with money can now be classed with us. Well I suppose he doesn’t have to buy himself a title if he marries you, you come with one. Oh, Isabelle, I’m so sorry.”

“Then you will be amused to find that I have no intention of giving him a noble title, if he wants one he will have to buy one like most of his class. Actually you might help me.”

“Just tell me what to do Isabelle,” said Elizabeth, leaning forward. She was just as Isabelle remembered her, ready for any kind of mischief.

“I want to hide to heraldry things somewhere, somewhere I know they will be in safe keeping. Do you have some unused cellar or something like that we could put them in? Just in case you should also make sure your heirs know about it.”

“You’re really serious about all of this aren’t you,” asked Elizabeth in amazement. Isabelle didn’t even bother answering that question.

Richard’s father had only had to write to the Lord Windon for him to instantly invite the whole family to his manor. He said that his great grandmother had always told him to be on the lookout for a family with the last name of Rose and when they came he was to open the cellar that had been plastered over. There was a lily pressed into the plaster. There was a lot of ceremony attached to the opening of the cellar, the family had been curious about it for a long time. They weren’t very excited when they found out it was only some papers and some antique arms though.

The family gained the right to bare arms again and Richard’s father had put up the book with the rose on it. The family’s heraldic device hadn’t satisfied Richard’s father however and he had requested and gained permission to change it. It had gone from lions rampant on a field of red, to being a circle of flowers, a rose, a lily, a carnation and an iris. Richard, who had read what was in the journal of Isabelle, the latter half was mostly complaining about how much she hated her spouse, doubted Isabelle would like the change to the coat of arms. There was nothing he could do about it however; it was a choice that had been made before he was born.

Richard’s father had married a noble woman which had once more cemented them into the world of nobility even though they bore a name like Rose. Their name would always be an embarrassment to Richard’s father but Richard rather liked it. He was far less impressed with the gold or the nobility. His love was to sit there was his great-great-grandmother’s journal and read her life over and over again. It was like a whole different world.

There was a final mystery that surrounded the family, what had happened to the books that Isabelle had brought from her family estate all of those years ago. There was no talk of them at all in Isabelle’s journal even though she had said where everything else was in it. Richard’s father and grandfather hadn’t cared enough to even look and Richard, who knew where the clue was wasn’t willing to get it. He knew that it was hidden in the lining of the journal because he could see the raised place under the glued over paper. He wouldn’t cut into the book to get at it however. The old books weren’t that important. He was just happy being the only one who knew that the final clue was under the rose.

Lady Lily

“You might as well staple a bouquet to my shield, I might get less jokes about out coat of arms then,” Richard told his father. It was an old complaint of his and his father responded with an old lecture.

“That wreath of flowers pattern on your shield should be worn with pride. It is on that wreath that this family’s fortunes were reestablished and you are able to enjoy the privileges that you do. If it weren’t for that bouquet, as you call it, you and I would both be peasants.”

Richard had just returned from a tournament, a joust in other words. As an old and well established family they were expected to participate. For family honor he was expected to do well. He didn’t do badly, but that hadn’t stopped him from being tormented horribly by his peers for his girly shield. It was just as well that there hadn’t been a war in years. He could only imagine boldly riding into war only to have the enemy laughing its self to death because of his coat of arms.

It was all because of his ancestress, way back during the plague, an Isabelle Lily by name. She had been the only one to survive to carry on the family name after the plague had struck. There had been riots in the streets, the sort that happen when people are worried and unhappy. For a very long time it had been thought by Isabelle’s descendants that everything had been lost in those riots. There was evidence that the estate they had lived in had been burned down. It had taken many years for the truth to emerge. Even then it had only come out when Richard’s grandfather had found the journal with the rose on its cover.

Isabelle walked away from the burning ruins of what had been her home. She had gathered everything of value, and the remaining loyal servants, and they traveled with her. They had had plenty of warning that the mob was coming, enough time to get everything into carts and sneak out through the side gate. Several months ago Isabelle would have cried at the loss of her home but the time for crying was over. Several months ago Isabelle had been the pampered and spoiled middle daughter of a nobleman, and then she might have cried a great deal. The rest of the family was dead now though, taken down by the sickness that swept the land and decimated all households. Isabelle had been spared though she had no idea why.

The servants would follow her and do as she said through loyalty to her family. Many of them hardly knew their new mistress but they had served the Lily family for generations and would therefore continue to serve it. They had all been given the opportunity to leave her and go find somewhere else to live on their own. The ones who traveled with her now were the ones who had no wish to be independent.

The carts of goods she had saved from her estate were separated into different carts according to what they were. The family armor, arms and crest was all in one cart. Another cart had all of the jewels and gold, though they were disguised as wine casks just in case someone might feel the need to rob them. The cart behind that one held the house hold goods such as the furniture and the deed to the land the estate had been built on, including the acreage around it. The final cart held the family records, the diaries of those who had come before her, and the books that had been purchased for the family library. She hadn’t been able to grab all of the books but she had grabbed the most important looking ones as well as her favorites.

The youngest member of the party, a girl of about Isabelle’s age put a comforting arm around her mistress, something that she would never have dared do in the past. Isabelle found comfort in it. The girl was the daughter of Isabelle’s nursemaid, and the closest that Isabelle had to family now.

“Where are we going to go now?” the girl whispered. Isabelle could tell that she was scared but trying to hide it.

“I hear that a lot of merchants are looking for orphaned nobility to marry into their families to give them noble titles, surely you’ve heard the rumors Mary. I suppose that I could find one of them to take us in.”

“Would you really marry so far under yourself?” asked Mary. She was clearly shocked; everyone had expected Isabelle to marry one of the younger princes before the death of her parents. There had been no arrangements made to that end however and now that the country had descended into chaos it seemed very doubtful that the arrangements would ever happen.

“We need a home and I don’t know anything about how to rebuild our ravaged and depopulated lands. I don’t believe I have a choice. I dislike the thought of giving a noble name to some wine seller’s son though.”

Everyone fell into a gloomy silence with that. The few guards that had remained with her, and had survived the sickness, were the only ones who seemed unaffected. Isabelle was unsure if they had even heard the discussion. The guards had always seemed in a separate world from her while at home. They protected and didn’t speak, in particular not to the young ladies of the household. Isabelle’s father had always been very strict about young men speaking to her and her sisters while he had been alive; he had intended them for good marriages.

It was hammered home the first night how young and unready Isabelle was. She was really too inexperienced to face the world that she had suddenly been thrown into. It all started when they stopped at an inn for the night. It wasn’t the sort of accommodations Isabelle was used to but she knew better then to complain and the owner of the inn and his wife seemed kind enough.

Isabelle ordered that the luggage should be brought into the inn for the night and stored in her room. It was a pain to unload it all but she didn’t trust it outside all night. She saw as the inn keeper’s eyes widen at the obvious show of nobility and he became much more respectful. She was amused by his manner and both she and Mary laughed about it.

The guards were posted to a room next to hers and the servants to a room on the other side of the building. Mary was sharing Isabelle’s room since her maid servant was no longer with them. They had both been asleep for a long time when they were awakened by the door opening. There was no light in the room to see by but Isabelle could hear the innkeeper’s voice. She thought for an instant about getting up and screeching at him for to leave her room immediately, but she stopped herself. Who knew what he would do to her if she raised the alarm. Her guards were surely asleep and would take some time to make it to the room, during that time all sorts of things might happen.

Mary didn’t come to such a logical decision and when she woke up with a strange man prowling around the room, she instantly shouted the alarm. It was just as well that Isabelle’s fears had been unfounded. Rather then attack the man froze in fear and then stood, unsure of what to do. It allowed plenty of time for the guards to come from the other room and grab hold of him. Of course that left the question of what to do with him and his wife. His wife had been standing watch outside of the door when the guards had come to investigate Mary’s scream.

The captain of her guard had suggested killing the both of them and simply forgetting they ever existed. They had tried to rob a noble woman which was enough reason to execute them both. Isabelle considered it, it would give her a feeling of security, however she had a kinder disposition and the idea was unpleasant for her. In the end it was dismissed but that didn’t solve their problem about what to do with their prisoners.

“We’ll take them with us, under guard of course, until we can think of something better to do with them. The sickness has killed enough workers without us killing off more of them. I would say to just leave at let them alone but I think I have use for this inn so they can’t have it any longer,” Isabelle announced. She could tell by the look on the guard captain’s face that he didn’t approve of her softness but there was nothing she could do about what he thought of her. She could only hope that his lifetime experience working for her family would make him listen to her orders.

She took out a rose printed journal, one that had never been used for anything before, and wrote the days events down. Then she wrote some very careful directions to the inn and a description of what it looked like and the surrounding area.

Richard’s grandfather had been very proud of the stories of the family’s noble heritage. At the time there had been no proof of it however, it was all legends and hearsay. That was true until that lucky day that he had been going through the family genealogy books and had found that one of the very old ones had another, thin book, hidden in its cover. It looked like a journal of some sort, older then the book it had been hidden in. He had opened it carefully and it had started an elaborate treasure hunt.

Richard’s grandfather had first found the families gold, back when he was a young man. Richard suspected it was because that was what his grandfather had been interested in. The money had been buried in the cellar of an old inn. From the stories it was taken care of two young people who said that running the inn there was an old family tradition. They knew they were guarding something but they had no idea what it was. The youths had money, and the story they had been told as children was that the money was to support them and keep the inn unchanged until what they were hiding was found. They had always been told that the same woman who had given them the item to be hidden had changed the inn’s sign. It was an unusual one, a white carnation, carefully painted and retouched over the years.

To be continued...

The Pirate's Cooper II

I have mentioned before how popular Alexander was, needless to say when speaking of leaders his name soon made its appearance in the discussion. I had thought that he would accept instantly but he seemed reluctant. Even when he was elected with near anonymous votes he looked slightly less then happy. He stood in front of crew, his hands folded behind his back solemnly.

“I did not choose to be a pirate of my own free will,” he began and I thought for a moment that he was going to refuse, he continued however. “If I am going to be a pirate though, I would rather be a captain then a common crew member. I will be your captain and serve in that position best as I can.” There was a cheer from the crowd, and it was followed by the usual drunken party in the manner that pirates celebrated anything.

People had already started to fall down in drunken stupors when Alexander found me where I was standing at the railing of ship staring off at the small speck of land on the horizon. I had been told by a member of the crew that it was a habited, civilized island. The sort that pirates fear since frequently they are prowled by navy ships.

“Greetings Captain,” I said. I was unsure where I stood with him anymore. At one time he had been my friend but since he had distanced himself from me and was now in a position of power I truly had no way to tell how to address him. He relieved me from my fears by grinning at me.

“Dreaming of escaping us again?” he asked me quietly.

“To late now,” I replied just as quietly, trying to keep the regret from my voice.

“Can you swim?” he asked me.

“Not well, not well enough to swim this distance anyway,” I answered. I couldn’t even believe that I was having this conversation.

“Then you will just have to steal a boat. I will distract the crew; you can go ahead and leave. Most of these men are too drunk to notice you lowering a boat anyway.”

“Won’t you get yourself in trouble with your crew?” I asked. “I thought that the captain wasn’t supposed to do anything without the crew allowing it.”

“I will just drink myself unconscious and the next day say I don’t remember any of it, I most likely won’t anyway. I’ll be alright.”

The last time I saw Alexander he was throwing knives to outline the head of a crew member. Of course with a show like that no one was looking for me. I wasn’t noticed until I was already out of pistol shot. I could have seen him again several years after that when they hung him and the entire crew for piracy after an extremely short trial. I didn’t think I could stand in the crowd for that, not while knowing that I could have been on that platform if it hadn’t been for the mercy of Alexander. Now I’m an old inn keeper, and I felt that I should cease worrying what this account would do for my reputation and give Alexander the justice he was due.