Olive Jars

Olive Jars - Chapter One

He flung his arms over the hearth and wailed pitifully. His hair fell and slid around his temples delicately, as he rolled his head from side to side. He moaned and spluttered through tears, his back bowed with coughing. Sighing as flames caught his sleeves, he resigned himself to watch his top set alight and warm his freezing body. When she came in all of his clothes were burnt to ashes around him on the floor. The chair on which he sat was scorched and his body shimmered with a soft sheen from the dew of the evening air. She closed the window, causing no change to the chill in the room.  

"Wake up." She whispered into his milky ear. His hair spilled over his shoulders, rising as he followed her command, and swung jubilantly along his back. "My beauty," She crooned, cupping his cheek, "What had made you weep so?" His eyes touched her through the dark and the moonlight from the window set them into a melancholic glow. 

"I have failed," he sobbed sorrowfully, in his sweet, tender voice, "I will be stuck here forever." 

"Where is Fintan?" She asked, and looked for a blanket, even though his body need not have had it for shelter. 

"Who cares?" he wailed, his eyes blinking uncomfortably with crusted tears, "I am certain that he is happy, and not tormented like I am."  

She eyed him warily, certain that her patience would not withstand his trying mood. 

"You haven't succeeded in finding the ghost on this commission?" 

"No!" He sobbed, "And now I'm stuck in this old hellhole until I do." He peered up at her, trying to change her expression into one of pity with his eyes. "Paige," he said suddenly, clutching her sleeve as she tried to evade him. He was quicker than her, though her athletic tendencies were impressive for any ordinary girl. "Kill me, please," he fell to his knees before her, dropping the blanket into a velvety sea around him. "Please," he sobbed, "There is nothing here - I'd rather die than live here." 

Paige pressed her thumbs to her temples and considered his request for a moment. "Your brother," she pressed, but he caught her with his eyes and pleaded silently to her. He banged his fists against his forehead, wrinkled from the anxious expression he wore, and then looked up at her sadly through his blonde-brown fringe that was wet with fresh tears.  

"Help me." He whimpered. She could suppress her smile no longer, shaking her head at his characteristically dramatic display, letting his folly warm her. Bending to sit next to him, she covered him with the blanket and kissed his cheek. 

"You've only had a single day of searching, Quinn, you will find him tomorrow." 

"No! I'll never find him, and shall be stuck here forever; bored, disgusting, lonely -" 

"We'll be with you, Quinn." She assured him gently, inducing only a heartbreaking cry. His lips quivered as tears trickled down his cheeks and along his chest. 

"Where is your brother?" Paige asked him, holding his face in her hands. He closed his eyes suddenly and leaned his cheek into her hand.  

"Hmm," he sighed, "Men hate me, did you know that? They do. I love you, because you are not a man." He opened his eyes slowly and looked at her tenderly, but she met him with an even gaze. 

"Where is Fintan?" she asked again. Paige withdrew her hand and he closed his eyes again, her scent from the woods still swirling around him. 

"In his room." He whispered. She stood up and left the room in silence. Quinn flopped onto the thick, deep red panels of the duvet that covered the huge medieval bed. He wiped his damp cheeks against the pillows and groaned. 

"I hate ghosts," he said into the cotton and feathers, "I really hate ghosts." Then sleep washed over him.

There was a soft, sturdy knock at the door. Fintan cleared his throat and called for the knocker to enter.