The Lost Pages of PMS (3) -- random Pious' political view
Posted: Sun Mar 09, 2014 9:43 am
(1)
The Young girl was sitting in the nearly broken chair, dangerously swinging her feet back and fort.
“And so it will be, my dear” The old woman said, while mixing the last bit of ingredients in the mortar. “Uh, teasing little buggers” she chuckled, as an eye slipped out, bumped down on the wooden floor, rolled a few feet across the room ‘till it finally stopped.
It was as if it was looking up at her, pleading not to be the delicacy of the night.
Zybell Pious looked down at the eye, then back up at her aunt.
“But when?” The girl asked, with wide open mouth.
“ Hush now! Do not ask a question, when you know the answer. There was a reason for your birth dear, as there was a reason for the happenings of your life”
The soup was boiling now and a strange odour spread in the small dusty room.
“But the salvation and mamma…?” Zybell looked up at the aunt as one big question mark.
“ Uh understand this my dear” Mustillia Pious took her gnarled staff and helped herself to her chair.
“Your parents did what only any caring creature would do. You father is what we in the Pious family call a wizard of the wind. He can do tricks with his stick that no living, nor dead have ever seen alike” She chuckled and tapped the young girls head.
“Although, he saw you fool around with that young breed of Winchester. And something had to be done.” A serious expression appeared in the old woman’s face.
“They sacrificed themselves to see if you were ready. They let you see the world, as it is on the other side, my dear. Do you actually believe that your mother enjoyed the late evenings in the company of the misbelievers?”
Zybell slowly shook her head, starting to understand how lucky she was, being born a Pious.
“You have enjoyed the rituals, learned of the sacrifices and seen the truth.”
Mustillia slowly got up from where she was sitting.
Gently stroked the girls hair.
“Now tell me, did you ever meet anything greater or sweeter than the warmth of Dennac?”
The young girl looked up at the aunt with big round eyes.
In silence they gulped the warm soup, what had been served before them by the silent shadow, now sitting on the kitchen table.
[By Zybell Pious, 2005]
The Young girl was sitting in the nearly broken chair, dangerously swinging her feet back and fort.
“And so it will be, my dear” The old woman said, while mixing the last bit of ingredients in the mortar. “Uh, teasing little buggers” she chuckled, as an eye slipped out, bumped down on the wooden floor, rolled a few feet across the room ‘till it finally stopped.
It was as if it was looking up at her, pleading not to be the delicacy of the night.
Zybell Pious looked down at the eye, then back up at her aunt.
“But when?” The girl asked, with wide open mouth.
“ Hush now! Do not ask a question, when you know the answer. There was a reason for your birth dear, as there was a reason for the happenings of your life”
The soup was boiling now and a strange odour spread in the small dusty room.
“But the salvation and mamma…?” Zybell looked up at the aunt as one big question mark.
“ Uh understand this my dear” Mustillia Pious took her gnarled staff and helped herself to her chair.
“Your parents did what only any caring creature would do. You father is what we in the Pious family call a wizard of the wind. He can do tricks with his stick that no living, nor dead have ever seen alike” She chuckled and tapped the young girls head.
“Although, he saw you fool around with that young breed of Winchester. And something had to be done.” A serious expression appeared in the old woman’s face.
“They sacrificed themselves to see if you were ready. They let you see the world, as it is on the other side, my dear. Do you actually believe that your mother enjoyed the late evenings in the company of the misbelievers?”
Zybell slowly shook her head, starting to understand how lucky she was, being born a Pious.
“You have enjoyed the rituals, learned of the sacrifices and seen the truth.”
Mustillia slowly got up from where she was sitting.
Gently stroked the girls hair.
“Now tell me, did you ever meet anything greater or sweeter than the warmth of Dennac?”
The young girl looked up at the aunt with big round eyes.
In silence they gulped the warm soup, what had been served before them by the silent shadow, now sitting on the kitchen table.
[By Zybell Pious, 2005]