And All I Ever Did Was Trust You...

The sword

The sword was an old thing, bronze and weary. Almost worn to bits. The bronze was hollowed out, and its shape was slender and thin. Blood has stained the metal and patches of speckled green showed its rust and age.  Decorative swirls accented its narrow lining giving a hint of elegance. The sword was kept in a white glass case in the main room. Two sentries, always a man and a woman with blue uniforms and blank expressions stood on either side. Annie managed to make friends with them. She would often take a few cups of tea and talk for hours on end, with me hiding behind the bustle of her skirt.

If it was a good day Annie would surprise me and remove the glass case. She'd let me peer closely at the sword for just a little while.  Only the head of the family could touch it. The sword would ruin anyone else's mind, shattering it till the person was unrecognizable. It could even happen to a third child like me.

Annie always smiled at me and watched carefully. Annie knew she would inherit the sword and the family's fate would be her responsibility. My only job was to feed Kitty once a week when Carla the maid had to leave early. Most of the time I forgot.

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When Annie fell, Maurice screamed for me to lift the sword. It lay below my feet enveloped in a white light. A circle of tall Rowen trees surrounded us.We were miles away from the road and the servants weren't expecting us back until Thursday. By now we should be being greeted by Sir Roland and his wife. Not lost in the woods where no one could hear our screams.

Annie lay huddled against one of the trees. Annie said nothing but looked at me in that desperate way as the blood puddled around her stomach. She didn't want me to do this. We both knew the consequences of someone like me wielding the blade. Annie wasn't looking well. The gash on her stomach was wide and deep. He face was sickly pale. She was losing way too much blood.

My hand leaned towards the blade. Maurice started to shout louder his voice raising higher and higher.

Annie whimpered.

The bronze was cool to the touch.

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When I was little I bothered Annie all the time. Being the youngest, Maurice and Annie would often spoil me. They felt bad since they had actual memories of Mother and father, while mine were just handed down stories. My siblings were forced to play hide away, dollies, and trolls and kings when they would rather be doing, well anything else. My favorite thing to do was to go and see the sword. If Annie ever got sick of me, constantly begging to see it, she never told me.

Back then the sword used to glisten at me, glowing a powerful white. Its carved black swirls would dance across the blade creating patterns and routines better than a ballerina on point. My favorite part had been when the swirls would clump together in a circle and then spread out twisting away. I also liked when they formed little lines and marched to the tip of the blade before gliding down to the other side.

The sword stopped glistening for me when I turned twelve.

It devastated me. Annie found me holed up in a pantry cabinet in between the rutabagas and peas. My face was red and puffy and my back was to her. Annie told me it was normal for the sword to lose interest and that it happened to my brother Maurice at this age as well. It meant the sword now saw me as an adult. That didn't make me feel better. Hard clumpy tears trailed down my check.

Annie reached out a hand pulling me in a side hug. She smoothed back my hair and wiped at
the tears. She held me tight and close, then sang the old hymns she swore Mother loved.

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My hand lightly touched the bronze blade. It felt nice and cool. Annie was alternating between calling out to me and threatening Maurice. Her voice was croaking in and out like a frog's bellow. She was leaning farther against the rowan now. Her red curls matted and flung across her face. Her new green dress turning red. The sword flashed warm and my hand shook.