A Fool's Tale

Chapter 5 - Caught

Panic set in the instant Talia disappeared from sight. Uncle Martin would surely punish me if I weren't at home when he returned. Racing through the forest, I dodged thick trees and dove under branches until the light grew so dim that I was forced to slow down for fear of crashing. The whole time I ran, I prayed this would be one of the rare days my uncle returned late and I that would arrive to discover an empty shack.

The garden came into view. I burst from the undergrowth and scanned the yard with equal amounts of fear and hope. The cart had been parked in front of the cabin and the horse was already stabled. Nuts. This would be my first time caught doing something openly defiant. All of my previous 'punishments' had been due to mistakes or artificial transgressions my uncle created. I attempted to steel my nerve as I approached the hut, but my hand still shook as I opened the rickety door.

Uncle Martin was sitting with his back to me. A bottle of alcohol and a steel cup had been placed on the table in front of him. Drinking already. Not good. He took a quick swig from the cup.

"Where have you been?" My uncle didn't look at me. He just sat there, staring at the bottle.

"Uh, I was gathering wood and lost track of time. Sorry." My voice quavered.

He grunted and his black eyes glittered in the fire's light. "No, I don't think ya were gatherin' wood. I think ya were lookin' at the castle. I think ya were disobeyin' me yet again." He began loosening something at his waist.

"No uncle, I promise, I didn't realize..."

Suddenly, Uncle Martin lashed out with his belt, the buckle end out. He'd never done that before and it caught me by surprise. The buckle hit me in the forehead with a clank. Pain seared across my head and a line of blood trickled into my eye. I staggered back, pressing the palm of my hand against the wound.

"All this time I've been too good to ya." The leather strap whipped against my side. I attempted to dodge to his left, but my uncle had moved in too close. He caught me and slammed me against the wall, cornering me.

"Now you're going to learn what happens to disobedient boys."

He slashed the belt across my head and body. I cowered into a ball and did my best to block the strap with my forearms. Some of the strikes still found their way through to my neck, ribs and cheeks. And even those that whipped against my arms hurt, for my ragged shirt sleeves did little to soften the blows. Eventually, Uncle Martin started breathing hard. He retreated and collapsed into his chair, staring at the bottle in front of him as if entranced. He swung the steel cup into his mouth and refilled it.

"Spoiled is what ya are, but I won't spoil ya anymore. Next time you'll listen to me or you'll feel my belt so hard that ya won't walk for a week." It was the beginning of a liturgy of the many cruel things Uncle Martin would do to me if I kept disobeying him.

I'd heard similar things many times before and I knew the worst was over. At least the physical part was. Once the drunken lectures started, it was just a matter of time before he staggered to bed. I crawled to the fireplace. My entire body felt like it was swollen. Along with the cut over my eye there were at least two gashes on my cheeks and three on my neck. Blood leaked from the cuts on my face and neck. My shirt stuck to my forearms and I was deathly afraid to look at the damage he'd done. I lay still on the wolf skin, and although the beating had exhausted me, I didn't sleep.

Cracking open one swollen eye, I watched my uncle drink. It was a loathsome and familiar sight. Eventually, he lumbered to his feet and went to bed. And still I spied on him until his chest rose and fell with a steady beat, and loud snores emerged from his heavy lips. When I was sure he wouldn't wake for the rest of the night, I limped to his bottle of alcohol at the table and poured the remainder onto the floor. I doubted he would notice, but a large part of me didn't care. I intended to meet Talia in two weeks and the only way I could make it happen was to accelerate the pace at which Uncle Martin's alcohol was consumed.

I hobbled back to the wolf skin blanket and pulled it to my chin. Waves of pain rippled through me, but even so, I slept with a smile. No matter how many times Uncle Martin hit me he couldn't take away the treasured memory I had of making my first friend.