I woke up as sunlight kissed my bare skin. I yawed and rolled over in a strange bed. My eyes focused on the view before me. The floor to ceiling glass windows and doors, led to a balcony and beyond there, the sun sparkled on the crystal waves of the sea.
I threw the white satin sheet back and walked to the door, I opened it, slide if back and stepped out into the warmth. The sea lapped below me, the sun played across the golden beach and I remembered then where I was.
It was too hot to eat anything but it still needed to happen. I made a large salad and mixed fruit and veg together for something different. I brought everything out to the garden table and we sat under the shady umbrella where it was cooler and ate.
Another summer without any sun and just full of rain instead. I wondered when I’d walk on dry ground and feel warmth on my face instead of the whipping wind. Summer happened in other countries but mine seemed to go from spring to autumn.
I should be waiting to make a fire and read before it like I did in winter. I should have been sitting out, enjoying the setting sun whilst sipping wine.
Oh, summer when will you come to me?
The huge beach ball appeared out of nowhere. No one knew where it had come from. It was just blowing across the beach, the wind played with it.
For the first time in two months the market was awake once more.
People set up their stalls under a orange-yellow sky, greeting each other. Plastic and paper rustled in the breeze whilst the heavenly scent of fresh bread, cakes and pies called to be tasted.Â
Harriet and her mother set up their small farm’s produce stall. There were eggs laid by their chickens. Homemade jams, marmalade and chutneys using fruit and veg from their field. Golden honey from Harriet’s beehives and goat’s cheese from mother’s goats.
The nervousness in the air was broken by the first customers arriving. Harriet let go of the breath she was holding. It felt like things were returning back to normal.
(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/06/24/26-june-2020/ with thanks)
The Lady hadn’t left her home when she had passed on. It wasn’t that she was trapped there, she could come and go as much as she wanted. The Lady had loved the house so much that she couldn’t help but walk the corridors and through rooms still.
The Lady was glad people still came and stayed in her house. She loved hearing them praise the decor and paintings, the gardens and the water fountains. Also, it was so nice to hear the laughter of children once more as they dashed from room to room.
She knew her presence was felt because people talk about smelling her perfume. It was one she had made herself using roses from the garden and water from the spring. The Lady felt pleased by this, she liked them to know she was still here watching over her house.
Away, away, away we go. High above the land and into the world of the birds. Clouds like candyfloss, like soft pillows we rise through to the dawn light sky. There is the sun, Ra shinning his mightiest and touching the mountain tops.
The morning wind in our faces so fresh and clean! Far below the sea laps and reflects us. We gaze in wonder like the first people, nature spread before out feet, a bounty to delight us.
The house sit in the middle of the woods looking out of place and yet there something about it that made it seem like it had always been there.
Vines and climbing flowers covered the white stone walls whilst weeds grew out of the cracks in the brown roof tiles. Flowers grew at the doors and windows, masking holes and dirt. The trees surrounding made the house look like it was playing hide and seek. The sun just got through to the house and made dapples of light and shadow on the walls and windows.
They called her a witch, a crazy animal lady, a mad woman, someone to void because she wasn’t ‘one of us.’ The children teased each other to go visit her house, maybe knock on the door. The teenagers threw things at her, broke into her house, spread dirty rumours about her. The adults ignored her, muttered about her to their neighbours, shunned her from their society.
I knew different though. She wasn’t some crazy old hippy, hermit lady or a witch making potions and casting curses. She wasn’t mean or in league with daemons nor was she an outcast of society or someone to be feared and hated.
She was a nun, Sister Benedicta.
I visited her about once or twice or a month after we had first met and she had saved my life when I had been ten years old. It had been a stupid dare by my older step-sister and I had eaten poisonous berries. My step-sister had left me there in the woods, being sick and crippled by stomach cramps.
Sister Benedicta or Benny as she liked to be called, heard me crying and thought me a sick animal. I was too ill to escape her and far too sick to worry about her killing me and cooking me in a pot.
She nursed me back to health and told me her stories.
‘But why does everyone make stuff up about you? They fear and hate you but they are nothing like what they said,’ I had asked.
‘Because when I first came here to spread the word of God and help the sick, a man fell in love with me. I rejected him because I was all ready married to God. He spread rumours about me. Called me a witch and made everyone question my nature,’ Benny replied.
‘Was there nothing you could do?’ I asked.
‘No. He was a Lord and everyone knew his power and they trusted him. He was handsome and could have any woman he wanted. Not being able to have me, made him bitter. The villagers cast me out and I found this abandoned woodman’s cottage and made it my own.’
‘And the Lord?’ I questioned.
‘I don’t know. Who rules this land now, Child?’
I told her and with a nod, Sister Benedicta said, ‘that must be his son then.’
‘If he’s gone, why don’t you come out and tell everyone that you are a nun?’ I suggested.
Benny shook her head, ‘I’m too old for that and I am happy enough to end my days like this soon.’
‘The perhaps, I can do something….’
‘Bring me food when you can and books, paper and ink, perhaps wool to knit with and cloth to sew.’
Ten years later, I was still bring things to Sister Benedicta. I was married with two children and had a little farm to run. I brought Benny whatever was in season, wood for her fire in the cold months and crafts to fill her days with.
I tried to get her to move in with me and my family but she refused.
‘I like to be with nature. I like to pray in quietness. Your farm sounds so pleasant but also so busy. I would only be in the way. I’m better here, living out my days until God calls me home.’
‘As long as you are happy.’
‘I forever am.’
He decided to clean the windows himself despite his wife’s warnings of ladder dangers and having to juggle things but he had waved her away.
Water sloshed down the windows then there was an all might crash and screaming.
His wife hurried outside and saw her husband sprawled across the floor the ladder on top of him, Quickly, she threw the ladder away and knelt beside him.
He was moaning and mumbling, tossing his side from side to side whilst his left leg twitched and blood formed around varies openings.
‘Well, I hate to say it but I told you so!’ she snapped.
(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/06/17/12-june-2020/ with thanks).
As Jay’s hand scrapped against the hard stone wall of the cave, he wondered if he had made a mistake coming in here. It had been fun at first showing off to the girls and proving he was braver then the other teenage boys but he hadn’t expected the cave to be so long.
The light of his phone lit only a patch of the floor and base of the other wall. Minerals shone under the glow and dripping water echoed making Jay feel disoriented at where the sound was coming from.
I should get out of here, Jay thought.
Something though made him carry on. Deeper and deeper, passing through narrow and wide sections, the dripping water calling to him like a Siren.
Jay’s feet splashed into water. His phone light danced along the surface of a dark pool. Ripples lapped against distant walls and small waterfalls made their way down the sides and into the pool.
I should stop, Jay thought but he couldn’t.
Water rose over his shoes, soaking his socks and ankles. Strangely the water was pleasantly warm even though Jay knew it should be icy cold. He tried to stop and turn but he couldn’t. It was like his feet were stuck on the track of a ride.
Right before the panic hit him, Jay heard the loveliest singing he had every heard. Soft female voices song words he couldn’t make out or were in another language. Calmness came over him and Jay felt himself drifting, lulled by the singing.
His legs splashed through the water then he was up to his stomach and he could no longer touch the floor. Jay began swimming, knowing only that he had to find the singing women and nothing else mattered anymore.
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