Homecoming (Sequel)

VIII. Running The Barrel

Hello again after many months. Iʼm sorry it took me so long. I am in my senior year (again) and I donʼt nearly have as much time for writing as I thought I would. Any time I do have, I spend it by editing By My Side – even there I am severely lacking speed.

I donʼt know when I will upload again, but when I have time, I will try to further this saga.

Love,

Dionne.
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The old windmill had stood upon the hill ahead for centuries. As far back as the ledges of my family by marriage went, there had been talk of an iron structure standing tall ahead, circling slowly by the windʼs graces as it looked down upon the homestead, protecting it from harm. To the Douglas men it had been a beacon, one that sang a farewell or a homecoming song whenever the tide of a muster would set in once more. To the Douglas women, the windmill had been a lighthouse, one that carried their husbands and sons away on the right course, and would also safely guide them back home, awaited by their female glee upon the roof of the castle. Often, they had written their sorrows down onto the pages of their diaries, spelling their anxiety over their menʼs absence in times of dire need. However, they meant that the sight of a structure so strong in the distance lessened their worries. As they stood upon the roof, they were certain of their strength, thinking that if a mill could stand tall for ages on end, their beloveds could too. In the ledges, it was known as the Womenʼs Walk, a place where they would wait in patience, looking out towards the windmill as it called their beloveds home. The windmill was a sign of hope for them, hope for a prosperous future as their worlds continuously developed around them.

Now, the windmill called to me with its gentle song, carried over to me by the soft breeze. I treaded up the hill, compelled by the sense of safety it radiated, and sat down upon a thin bar of iron that helped to support the structure, sitting amidst the ghosts of my forefathers. I could hear their horsesʼ hooves thunder on the ground, accompanied by those of a hundred head of cattle, as well as the songs of the many women that had longed for them home over the centuries. Amidst my ancestors, I felt safe, at peace. Often I came here, to feel that sense of calm when I most needed it. Only now, I did not.

My ancestors had condemned me for my wrong doings, refusing to let everything be bygones, and thus, they did not welcome me with their harbouring arms. As one who could and would not feel, did not deserve such a peaceful fate. To them, I had chosen to become a monster, a ripper who tore apart souls for sport, including my own. They tortured me with the sounds of their sweet songs, as well as those of many a woman whose husband had left for battle and had never made it back home. Their wails of desperation were a means to inspire any kind of remorse inside of me, as I should not be able to withstand the ache of the widows who had walked the Walk or not feel any kind of sympathy for them. However, I had lost all emotional tethers. All but one.

   Domenico had no understanding of what was happening around the two of us, as he peacefully enjoyed the comfort my arms provided and the warmth the blazing sun doused upon the Earth. He had no eyes for torture, and I hoped he never would have, as it was a curse only the wickedest of wretches deserved. In my hour of a cursed existence, all I longed for, was he who had never done me harm, nor who I had done harm. Only the unbreakable bond and love a mother had for her child I could still feel;– no lack of humanity could change that. He was the only one that truly deserved my love, my affections. Only for him, I would allow myself to feel. With his dimpled smile, only he managed to have my switch flicker, to have me feel and enjoy the feeling of motherhood.