The Obsidian Pillar

Chapter Six

I watched the sun rise through the window, an ochre sphere that spread her glow through the night, forcing the darkness to dissipate until the evening where it would again reign once more, unwillingly sharing his realm with his exact antithesis. I'd never noticed the battle between the light and the dark before that morning. Each of them pushed and retaliated in their battle dance in the skies, both wanting a chance to rule freely. It left me feeling reticent.

I had often shared my dreams and wishes with the moon and the stars while they guarded my sleep. The sun had always showered me with feelings of hope and peace in its warm rays the following mornings. But now it brought the looming threat of a day filled with unexpected events. I had survived one day like that, and now it would present me with another, to test me. Another chance to ache and crumble, to have my fears laid out before me once more. Yesterday I had managed to stay in one piece, but I was now a fragile piece of pottery, having been fixed together one too many times, the cracks perilously travelling across my skin. I could fall apart at any moment.

I had barely slept. Every time that I drifted into sleep I would dream of the dead men by the river, their bleeding noses glaring in the darkness, the crow squawking at me as though I was the culprit. I had been lucky. I had escaped the brutal fate that the thugs had been dealt.

Tired and unable to face my aunt, I set off to the village with a list of errands that had been hastily scribbled by Magda in her anxious state the previous night. I was grateful for the fresh air and relieved to get away from the farm for a while. My guilt at not being able to save Rebecca was suffocating.

When I reached the small houses of the village, all nestled conspiratorially together, I saw the gossiping neighbours that stood outside of their homes. They continued their conversations while observing me, whispering poisonous rumours and eying me suspiciously. I held my head up high, but couldn't ignore the shiver that raced down my spine as I passed them; it was as though their eyes were pressuring me to relinquish my secrets. The news had already reached the village. Willowheathe was a small community, after all.

I passed a small boy waving a stick at a dog, teasing him as he danced around in delight. His mother charged out from the house, lifting her skirts to avoid the dog's mess outside the door.

'Do notgo down to the river, George!' she called firmly in his wake.

'But, Mother, I take Tiny down to the river everyday! It's our favourite, we love jumping in the water and playing.'

The mother grabbed him by his shirt and held him still. 'Not today, George,' she warned sternly. As his eyes widened fearfully, his mother softened. 'Don't make me keep you at home with me instead,' she taunted playfully as he wiped her kisses from his dirty cheeks and escaped with Tiny, who was in fact, anything but. The large, black dog clambered after him, barking with anticipation and stirring up dust from the hard ground with his enormous paws.

I found that I had stopped walking and was instead watching the honest, brazen display of affection which I had never experienced myself. The mother, sensing my fascinated gaze upon her, looked up in alarm before scurrying inside.

As the village sprawled into small stalls selling freshly laid eggs and dried meats alongside other provisions, a chorus of labourers stumbled into the streets on their way to work, whistling at the women who were hanging out their laundry. Averting their mistrustful gazes away from me, a few turned to wave cheerily or flutter their lashes demurely, whilst another turned on her heel and crossly slammed the door to her home shut behind her. Free of their intrusive stares, I hastily headed with the rough scrap of parchment to the fabric merchant.