The Tunnel
Author's Note:
For this story, I
was given a picture of a tunnel and the word 'passion'. This is my
contribution.
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I had to be careful
as there are men all around. It's 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, then I would rebel. He knows that too, but he also likes his
character. He expects 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 the usual bi-weekly farm sales of his products 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 have
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 briskly 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 to 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 hairs) on my head." That took him off with his
heels up to his elbow but I also earned 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 sunrise 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 know. It's 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 feign 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 riverside.
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 downsloping
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 it does not stop 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." It's 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 transcends the
boundary of ego and status, as I like her books as she likes me reading them.
It's 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, it's on the Tavern where
the draught runs aplenty. But not all like that, as some areas 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 use 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. It's truly God's answer to me for my prayer to learn how
to read and write.
"Narry a
worry. I shall do as you tell me." I gave her my vow of truth as it's my
commitment to see this passion of mine would never falter.
"Mary, it's
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, it's 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. It's then when my
mind awakens and the candle is 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.
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