The Thing in The Forest

Chapter Six- 1678

I had just turned 11 when my father died. The mines had caused his lungs to turn black and he died gasping for air, not even able to tell us he loved us in his final days. Now we are trying our best to make enough money to keep the house and stay fed.

My mother worked at the town's tailor, traded vegetables and seasonal forest bounty for meat from the butcher, and did laundry for several families around the area. I kept my youngest brother at home, doing all the house and barn chores during the day, but would do work outside of our house on the days that mother was home.

I had started cleaning and tending to the elderly neighbors down the road from us. The wife would still bake pies now and then, usually with my help, and would send me on my way with a good-sized portion to bring to my family. I usually mended clothes, milked cows, picked vegetables, or whatever other small job that paid nearly anything at this point.

My older brother, in the very footsteps that killed our father, has taken a job at the mine. He quit school almost immediately, to the behest of our mother and breaking his promise to our father to never work in the mines. Sometimes I could hear my mother or brother weeping in their separate rooms, knowing what fate this job will bring him.

But there isn't anything to be done. My younger sister, now six, has started school. My mother walks her every day to school and I usually wait for her at the end of our road as she walks back with the neighbor children, who are my age. They always greet me, pity in their eyes. The boy, once my tablemate in school, sometimes gives me updates about the latest gossip in town. He sometimes smiles at me and I wonder if he would make a good husband for me someday, daydreaming of him becoming something studious like a printer, a surgeon, or perhaps some station within the government.

Would he want me as a wife though? It would be several years before we were even at the age of marriage, and anything could happen in that time period. His eyes could turn to another girl, one that obviously would surpass me in education, or perhaps a girl whose family was prosperous, setting an easier future for him. No, I don't think he would seek me out to be his blushing bride someday.

We decided to continue paying for my younger sister's education. It was a small fee, but the outcome for my sister to get a formal education would allow her to flourish later on in life. It was an investment that my mother, myself, and my brother agreed to. When my youngest brother was old enough, we would send him as well.

For now, I worked on my own reading at home. I read the bible every day and worked on writing using the ash from the fireplace to spell short words for my brother. We worked on arithmetic as well, him learning his foundational numbers and me trying to keep that part of myself active. I was afraid that if I did not practice, I would forget how to do it entirely, and that was something I could not afford.

After half a year of surviving this way, mother got another job at the bakery, starting out for the shop well before the sun rose. She would help bake the morning bread and pastries, and would occasionally get to bring home the scraps that were baked but not large enough to do anything with. So, I had to start walking my sister to school every morning, towing my younger brother along for the long walk ahead.

There were two days in a row that I had to practically drag my sister to school. She would whine and stomp her foot about having to go, but would not tell me why. She didn't tell mother that night either, so I followed her all the way to school and was there before she left the building, waiting on her just outside, trying to entertain my brother by drawing animals in the dirt with a stick.

And that's when I saw it. The schoolmaster, the same man that used to teach me, called my sister back into the schoolhouse while the rest of the students came pouring out. I could see her face, downtrodden and nervous, until she turned around and walked back to him. I moved closer to the window, curious what he was doing and saying to her.

He patted the spot at the bench next to him and she hesitantly sat next to him. I know she was conflicted, having been raised to follow any adults' instructions, especially one that held your future in his hands, but also knowing that she was not to be in a room by herself with any man.

He reached his hand towards her golden locks. She no longer preferred braids, but instead wore her hair down, the ends forming loose curls. He gingerly touched her tresses, then his fingers roved down the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, her eyebrows knitting together and then hung her head. He started to lean towards her when I took off towards the front and burst through the doors, just in time to see him plant a kiss atop her head while his hands moved to her lap.

He stood up, his manhood stretching his breeches where he was noticeably excited. He pulled his waistcoat down as much as he could, hiding his shame.

I don't remember exactly what I said, but I threatened him. I told him I would kill him in great detail. Me yelling brought in a small crowd of men that had been gathered nearby and I explained what I had seen. He had gathered himself enough to scoff at the accusations and then accuse me of besmirching his good name, telling me that what I had seen was him trying to scold my sister for her wrongdoings from the day so that he can better teach her and the other students tomorrow.

The people, who were at first on my side, were now looking at me in confusion. My sister, who was hiding her head in shame, would not speak. A man pulled her aside and started questioning her, but in a way that made it seem like she was the one to blame for causing such an uproar at some minor misunderstanding. My sister started to nod in agreement, while I stood there off to the side, my mouth agape at how fast they sided with the schoolmaster. One man even patted him on the shoulder while we were escorted out of the building and told to go home.

I remember that walk being silent at first. My sister walked with her head down and tears silently streaming down her face. My brother kept patting her on the back, trying his best to get her to feel better but not knowing what was wrong. I was fuming mad, breathing as steadily as I could, but sometimes that breath would come out as a huff or a stifled yell.

It was halfway down our walk when my sister apologized to me, so quietly that I had to get her to repeat it, and I realized she thought I was mad at her. We stopped, hugged, and sobbed together. I told her that I would talk to Mother and Brother and see what would happen next. The rest of the way home, I held her hand, trying to think of a future where she could still have an education and not have to be around that man. But I couldn't think of one.

Luckily, she did not have school the next day and then it was Sunday. I had hoped that this sermon would be yet again about temptation and that perhaps the townspeople had told the preacher about what had happened, but instead he went on a long rant about false accusations and lying, and I could feel his eyes burning holes through me as he said it. I didn't look around, but I could feel some of the congregation's eyes on me as well. I left that church when the sermon was over, and my faith did not come with me.