The Tunnel

I had to be careful as there are men all around. Its not nice to be ridiculed but worse to be given a beating by Papa. He does not condone it but I am like him; the more I am told no, I would rebelled. He knows that too, but he is also like his character. He expect me to toe the line. So we are two extreme opposites in the idea and yet we sometimes complement each other's strength. He's in town for his usual bi-weekly farm sales of his produce and this is the one time, I am not subject to his regular calls for this and that.

Aye, I am his hands on servant as we cannot afford one given our small farm and smaller home. If I was a boy, I would be sleeping in the barn by this age like Bart, but as a lassie ( Scottish for young lady ), he cannot bear me turn out to the cold draught of the barn. If my Maa'er ( Scottish for mother ) be alive, she would had kicked him out to the barn and be done with a latch on the door lock. But bless her loving soul, she rests below the chestnut tree with my younger Braa'er ( Scottish for brother ) who died at birth along with her.

"Alas, I would be late." I pushed my legs to walked brisk as I held my head down from the stares of those men on the road. I know some of them as they had come and seen A'er ( Scottish for Father ) but I promise A'er never to shame the family again when the last time I spoke my mind to the idiotic Franklin who came a courting. I would never be seen with such a man like him; uncouth in manner and smell whose than those sows we have in the pens. I remember my words that stung his ego down; 'I would not go out with you, young Franklin for the days you can count on my monie hair ( many hair ) on my head." That took him off with his heels up to his elbow but I also earned a wrath from my A'er who spared no mercy on the belt of his.

I cried that night but A'er was kind to let me sleep on as he worries my bruises would bring on his sister; Aunt Martha on his back. Nay will be the sun rise if Aunt Martha tells it so, for even the God's would cower if she in her fury self. Aye, we are proud people but we kind at heart too. I remember A'er came back with supper he acquired from the Tavern to share with me that day. That's his way of saying I am sorry, my lass.

But today my action cannot be pardoned if he would to know. Its the tunnel I am seeking and what awaits there would be my bane and a welcome to his belt. I am near now and I have to feigned some excuse to climb down the slope. Hurry, Travis; your steps are a pain in my ears as I hear you take your stroll like a lady on the river side. Have you no urgency in ye life, I mumbled to myself on the passing of this slow witted lad. He passes and there is none to on my front nor to my rear except the down sloping back of the passing lad. I hurried to the side of the bridge and slide down the thickets on the slope. It may dirty my dress but its does not stopped me from my quest. I am down on the small stream that runs beneath it.

"Mary, bless be there for you are here. I was afraid you be forgotten and I was to leave." Its my good friend and partner in crime, Beth of Lockshire. She is dressed well as she is of the better homes and families. But not the class could separate us as we are lovers of the words. Our passion transcend the boundary of ego and status, as I like her books as she likes me reading them. Its her passion to teach and mine to be taught on the words that we lasses are denied by birth due to boorish laws and tradition. The man who made the laws said the lasses are to be kept to their works in the kitchen and house works; and on occasion be done on the chores of the motherhood.

Boorish, I would say their minds are, for many of these men are as dim witted as Travis whom I just told you. Their minds are on their fields and if not, its on the Tavern where the draught runs aplenty. But not all like that, as there are some who are as refresh as bony Beth here. They come in vests and pressed suits, run around on those handsome carriages and curtsy they would give you as lassie we are. Charming men, I called them, but I need to be prim and proper if I am to meet one like that. Beth, my friend would be my friend to teach me the words that I passionately desired.

"Here is your new works of words. Do it and then I would test you again. To help you, I give you here is what we called a dictionary. It would tell you what you read its meaning and how to used it more. So we meet here in two weeks, and I hoped to see you read those words to me." Beth is a kind soul; she was from Glasgow and now she is here. Its truly God's answer to me for my prayer to learn on how to read and write.

"Narry a worry. I shall do as you tell me." I gave her my vow of truth as its my commitment to see this passion of mine would never falter.

"Mary, its not to worry and not the way you said it. So do it right the next time we meet." Beth took off on the end of the tunnel to climb over the low slope to her hansom who was waiting for her since. As for me, its another journey of walking by the road back to the farm withstanding the wolf whistles of the farm lads who toil in the field. But I walked with glee as my works of passion awaits me when the snores of my A'er sounds his deep sleep. Its then when my mind awake and the candle be lit for me to induce in my passion for the words. Aye, one day I would be a writer too, and my words would be read by many more people including lassies like me.

"There’s a fine bush ah could help ye hing yer dress oan for tae dry." ( There is a fine bush where I could assist you to hang your dress up to dry. ) That drew some laughter among the men in the field.

Man and their vile thoughts.

( Bless be that we are living in age where we can learn to read and write. But for those of you who manage to read this line, please take note that out in the world, there are still many like Beth who are deprived of it. Even in the current times.

This tale is inspired by the movie "Yentl" )