The Forgotten World

The Forgotten World - Part 1

On this winter night, families slept with beds dragged together, huddled up against the cold. Horses, cows, sheep, hens and the like found shelter tonight in their pens and barns, protected from the icy southern winds. The village of Yayman was shrouded in darkness, thick clouds blocking out the moon and stars. On such a night, one could not see but a handful of yards in front of them. But there was one exception.

The roads of Yayman were desolate of human and animals, apart for one gifted stranger. Wrapped in a black willowy cloak and with her hood pulled up over her face, the stranger paced the empty roads of Yayman. Held steady in her clasp was a basket, simple and woven from straw. This stranger meant no harm to the sleeping villagers as she made her way through Yayman. There was only one goal on her mind.

She took in the details of everything within 20 yards of her, despite the clouds having coated the village in darkness. Walking from one house to another, she peered briefly through glazed windows before moving onto the next.

Upon arriving at a rather small cottage, the stranger stopped walking. Through a window laden with flower pots of white jasmine and snowdrops, she could see an old lady pleasantly sleeping in bed. With only a glance and the aid of the stranger’s gift, the stranger knew all she needed to know about the sleeping widow.

The stranger approached the front of the cottager.

Taking much care in her actions, she slowly placed the woven basket in front of the door. Inside the basket, snuggled tight in soft woollen sheets, a baby slept. The stranger gazed at her child and was filled with strong, conflicting emotions.

Doubts formed in her mind, searching for reason after reason to avoid what she had planned. Did I have to do this? Surely there was another way.

As ideas came to her she quickly dismissed them, scowling at herself for being so selfish. Over and over she had already considered all the possibilities, to no avail. This was best for her child. No matter what happened to her, her son would be safe here. Even if the choice tore her up inside.

Her eyes welled up and tears began to flow, trickling down her facing and falling into the snow. One of these tears fell onto her child.

The baby stirred in the basket and, ever so slowing, opened his little eyes. Peering up at his mother, the baby gave a puzzled look. He wondered why mummy's face was wet and raining.

The mother shook with fear. She didn't want her child to see what she was about to do. She slammed the palm of her hand on the door in front of her. Again and again, until she could hear movement from inside.

The baby could sense the panic in the air and started to cry. Kneeling down, the mother caressed her sons face with her right hand. With her delicate touch, the baby stopped crying and gazed into his mother's eyes.

The mother gave her son one last loving kiss on his forehead, trying so hard not to shake from the emotional pain she felt. It was more difficult as she held a hand out of sight, still knocking on the door with the back of her fore finger.

The cottage door opened and an old woman looked out. Dressed still in her night gown, the old lady was slumber-some as her eyes scanned up and down the street.  She could see a basket in front of her but no sign of the deliverer.

Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, she picked out the distinguishable sound of a crying. Looking down, inside the basket at her feet, was a small baby crying.

Her previous confusion and fatigue was replaced by a motherly instinct she hadn't felt in a very long time. She lifted the baby gently into her arm and cooed him back to sleep again. Her smile was full of love and compassion as she cradled the baby in her arms.

A gust of wind sent a shiver down her spine and she returned to her senses, acknowledging how cold such a night this was. Giving the street only a brief look, she took the baby inside with her, where she could keep him safe and warm.

The mother watched all of this from the shadows. Her sobs where silent, trying to mouth her words of goodbye. The sound of the door closing rang in her ears, and she had to restrain herself from taking back her child.

She was happy, relieved in fact. Her child would be safe this way. But that didn't stop the pain she felt. It didn't dampen the longing she had to hold her baby-boy once more.

She stood there for a while after the door had been closed, unable to move. Gathering what strength she could muster, she stole herself away from the village, and away from her dearest and only child.