Walk Once More

1.

Hello, my name is Matilda Anne Charts II and I am dead. I died around 700 years ago and that may seem like a long time, but when you're dead, time really seems to fly by. I previously lived on the coast in a tiny town. "Where the rolling hills meet the sea." Is what my mother used to call it, but its proper name was Captain's Town. It was a pretty place. It had wide-open fields and trees that reached high to the stars and darling sand beaches that held back the blue roaring water. We only had a few neighbors and I could name everyone in the town if I so wished. Well, at one point I could, that is. Which isn't really that impressive since the population of the town was small and always declining. We lived on the outskirts of Captains town, about a two-block walk. Most people lived and worked in the small close quarters of central Captains Town. Other than us and the farmers who needed the extra space for their crops.

In town, there was the baker and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Morris. They were both very sweet to our family and would occasionally have conversation with my mother. They were both rather large in size, probably due to the amount of leftover bread they ate. I particularly enjoyed the baker's company. He would always hum a tune will he worked and on special occasions he would make a small cake. They granted me the chance to try a slice once on one of my visits to town. It was heavenly. You could say they were my family's only true friends, and they took the death of both me and my mother very hard. I heard the baker did not make bread for a whole week and the rest of the town became quite angry. But who knows if that is true? I only heard it through whispers and I have been told no one should trust whispers, for they are easily misheard and even more easily bent from the truth. I would like to think he mourned us, but not too much. For it makes me happy that someone cared enough to be sad about our passing, but it would weigh heavy on my heart if they could not regain their usual happiness after our deaths.

Then there was the butcher. I never took a liking to the butcher and he could say the same for me. He was quite scary. He carried around a rather large knife where ever he goes and was missing a finger. He also had a rather sour attitude towards children, one of which I have never seen. I thought maybe a child had bitten his finger off, so he does not trust them anymore. So we tried to be as sweet to him as possible, but he never showed the same kindness back.

There were few more notable people in the town. There were only two other families with children, but we only played together once. Which in all truth was fine with me since the only girl my age was ill-tempered and a boast. Her name was Pacifica. Her father was the shoemaker, and they lived in the finest house in town. She was spoiled and always had new shoes, which she liked to tease me with. Her nice shoes and the fine house she lived in never made me jealous. It was her brother. He was fifteen and oh so handsome. Blonde hair framed his oval face, that was typically covered in mud and dirt. He had deep blue eyes, unlike anyone in my family. He was lanky but strong and wanted to be a shoemaker, like his father. I never talked to him, for he was always busy when my family and I came into town every Monday morning. It was a silly childish crush. But a few years after I died, he came down to the beach and sat there looking out on the ocean. He was still good-looking, but in an older way. He has grown quite a bit taller and his face had lost its color. As if the childish spark had been sucked clean from him. His eyes were sad now, and he held them mostly closed, concealing their deep beauty from the world. I sat next to him, although he could not see me for the few hours he was there. It was the first time I had company since my death. It was nice not to be alone for once, even if he didn't know I was present. Then he picked up and left and never came back to the beach.

There was the Stoneman and the Weaver. They were brothers. They did not like each other which is unbrotherly like. Brothers are supposed to stick together and sisters are supposed to fight, not the other way around. No one really knew why they were not fond of each other. They were close the years before, then one day they hated each other. I believe everyone thought they would get over it, but they never did and they were enemies till death. There was the Grocer and the Carpenter and the Cook and a few ladies who did not work and simply danced around all day.