Other Lands

Chapter One

I continue my walk home as though it was any other day, but for some reason it wasn't. We all feared the day, that was inevitably coming, that the wall would come down. For it was the only barrier between us and them. Their name, alone, struck fear into the hearts of many. I was one of the few who didn't really care about the name. It was the images that followed that got me. Although I hadn't actually ever seen one before, the stories painted a good enough picture. Those images haunted me my entire walk home. Following the images were quotes from the stories and warnings. I walked up those creaky stairs that led up to the pine wood door of a small two room building with a flat top roof. "I'm home.", I said as I slung open the door. The smell of the pine and smokey scent from the fire filled my nostrils. My father still lied motionlessly in his chair. No sound came from the other room, suggesting that Hasley and Lilith were out in the village. I laid my hunting bag on the floor in its usual place by the door as I shut it. I walked over and laid my hand on his shoulder. Cold. "Father?", I asked worriedly. No reply. I gently grasped his nose. Nothing. "Arthur.", I said firmly, "Wake up." Nothing. "Wake up!" I'm yelling now. I don't care. "Wake up!" I start shaking him by the shoulders. "Wake up!", I scream. One thought dwindles ever so slightly across my mind. "No! No! No! Wake up!" He's not waking up. He won't ever wake up. This realization begins to fill every inch of my being as I cry into the arm of his chair. I cry harder. I cry harder than ever before. Memories flood in like the waters from the western mountains, early spring. They seep from my veins as though the veins have been severed a million times each. I grab a knife from the wall in the kitchen area. I go into the other room, and crawl into an empty corner and roll up my sleeve. I take the silvery blade and begin making small incisions into my left forearm. Those small incisions become longer and deeper cut by cut. Once I get to approximately the thirty-first cut I stop and watch as the blood trickles down my arm, reaches my elbow crease, and then drops to the floor. Satisfactory becomes me. My tears stop. I smile. Not just any smile, but a real one. One I haven't given anything nor one for almost eleven years. All other feelings stop as the thick, red liquid continues on its way. I sit for what feels like ever, and admire its beauty. I now understand what they mean when they talk about "inner beauty". I hear shuffling snow and immediately roll my sleeves back down. I grab the knife and run back to the kitchen area, where I hurriedly wiped the blade before hanging it back on the wall. Just in time. The door opens and in steps Lilith. Her naturally soft curled blonde hair drapes around her shoulders. Her amber-blue eyes glisten in the sun. You can tell how far apart our meals are by the thinness of her naturally soft rounded face. In her arm she carries a woven basket of assorted forget-me-nots. "Feyre? I didn't expect you to be here so soon." She wraps me in a warm embrace. "Neither did I." "Well I'm glad you are." "Thank you." "I take it the hunt went well. Your bag looks quite full." "You're correct in assuming so. We'll have deer stew tonight if you're carrots and potatoes have ripened any." "Mmm... sounds delightful." She sets the basket down on the small cedar top table. "See you for supper, Pa." Those last words stung. She's in such a joyful tune, breaking the news to her isn't going to be easy. "Feyre.", Lilith says as she peaks around the door frame. "Yes, Lilith?" "Hasley won't be in for supper tonight. She's dining with Thomas Lockhart." "Who?" "Thomas Lockhart, he lives three houses down. Short black hair... the millers son." "Okay then, that's one portion longer." I go over to my bag and remove one of the birch bark bundles. I set it down on the table before looking over at my father. I tell Lilith that I'll be back shortly before heading over to Mr. Lockhart's. Mr. Lockhart is a middle age man. He has short red hair and works part time at the funeral home. This way I can knock out two birds with one stone.
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-knock knock knock-
A younger looking woman comes to the door. Mrs.Lockhart. Her loose brown curls shape her thin face as her green-grey eyes make contact with mine."Ah, Feyre. How wonderful to see you again. How can I help you?" "My father's dead." "Oh, that's terrible, dear. I'll go get George." She closed the door. Not five seconds past... "Ms. Yliss, I'm sorry for your loss." God how I hate pity. I get it, he's dead, he's not coming back, ever, his body will either burn and become animal or plant nutrients or worms and other bugs will consume it whole. I nod anyways. "This may be a kind of awkward questions, but... where is he?" "Some say it depends on religion-" "I meant the body." "Oh, at the house." "Okay, I'll be over in a few minutes." With that he stepped back and shut the door.
-knock knock knock-
"Is there another matter you'd like to discuss?" "Yes." "Out with it then." "Are you aware Hasley is coming for dinner?" "Is that all?" "Are you, or are you not?" "I am. What's it to you?" "Have her back by seven." "Will do." "You'd better."
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I walked inside to find Lilith crying into our father's lap. "Lilith?" No response. Just sobs. I walk over to hold her. She accepts and leans into my side. Not five minutes past, she's cried herself to sleep. I carry her to the bed and cover her in the old quilt. "I'm sorry.", I whisper. I exit the room. I grab my hunting bag take it into the back yard. I buried it in the powdery, white snow. Doing so brings back the images of the kills I made this morning. I shudder. I return to the inside and close the door. I turn around to find the birch bundle. "Well, guess I'll use you for bait.", I say, as I pick up the bundle.