Forgotten Moon by @Orielyn

Tal des VergessensThere were no stars, moon, nor sun to light the world in ruins. The only glimmer of light was from the glistening black, jagged rocks that gave off a crimson hue. Even that wasn't enough to pierce through the dark, thick fog that hung over the barren wasteland. No soul could possibly live in such a place, and stay sane. The world had once been a place that held life, a place where many had once flourished. Now in it's place was nothing but death and despair. It was impossible to think that any sane being would continue to live in such a place. But the place was home to one such being. A being that had suffered many hardships. A being that always stood on the edge of knowing and "on the tip of her tongue" subjects about her past life. The being was indeed female but she looked almost as the destruction of her world had torn her to shards. Even so, the shards had been stitched back together leaving a truly scared impression upon the being. The stitching had been done by herself as she was strong willed enough to pick up the pieces once more and sew her life back together. Though, at times she was jumbled by all the memories; never knowing if they were true or false in coming. Her body was a brown in hue coloring while she held several crimson scars upon her body from where the stitching was upon her being. She had long since lost her sight and in its place she had sown a piece of white cloth over her eyes. Though her sight had been lost, her other senses were heightened. Her long, pointed ears could tell when another being had appeared within her world. Most of her company was brought by a species that enjoyed the death, gore, destruction, and sorrow coming from her world. The species was doved Ammut. He wasn't exactly a close friend as his species was dangerous to all life forms, but at times he would bring another with him. Those were the only times she was allowed any kind of contact. As it was, she sat upon one of the smooth sides of the jagged rocks in waiting. The place she was within had become her home, but there was a down side to it. Upon the winds that blew were carried voices that always seemed to be talking of days passed. Come my child, come. Her ears flexed towards the winds, having her move her head in the direction that the voices were coming from. At times they would drive her insane as her already jumbled memories would surface once more. Between the voices and those memories it was hard for her to tell what was fact and what was fiction within her own mind. It always came back to the "tip of her tongue" thoughts. How it drove her more towards the edge of insanity in trying to remember everything. As the hours passed, though it was hard to tell with no sun, moon,or stars to tell what the time truly was, she waited. She just had this feeling, even a sixth sense, that someone was traveling upon the deadened ground towards her. It wasn't offend that she received guests as it was a place that most would consider trouble,scary, or barren in landscape. Her ability to see had long since passed up those thoughts. She knew the place inside and out,having only her heightened senses to help her. "Ragdoll." At the sound of her name, though it wasn't her true name, she turned her head towards the beings. Though, she couldn't see them she had a guess as to whom was there, "Ammut. Currion." A large, four-legged being moved its head in acknowledgement as it caused several rows of teeth to shift. The teeth vibrating alerted Ragdoll to the being. A smile, if it could be called one, was somewhat shown upon her mouth. The other being, doved Currion, moved closer to Ragdoll. Her whip-like structures upon her tails shifted upon the ground. Once more Ragdoll knew where the two beings where. "Ragdoll, I have a few questions for you." The female monster being only looked to where Currion was standing. Almost as if she were waiting for the questions to begin. Currion noticed her body language as she started in, "What do you remember of this world?" Ragdoll sat there for a few minutes, whenever she tried to remember her memories would always clash to create more memories that she was never sure if she dreamed them or not. As she sat there, Currion became more restless. The being in which she came to visit, via help from Ammut, always gave her a chill. They were all beings of monstrous heritage but some where creepier than others. Even some of them could give others chills without so much as thinking about it. Ragdoll was one such creature. Just when Currion was ready to tell Ammut she was ready to leave, Ragdoll started to speak. "This world was once a lively place. All kinds of us lived here. It was a place unlike any-" Currion noticed how Ragdoll hung her head. Her memories were once more escaping her. Ammut moved towards the two female demons, he'd seen this behavior before. It wasn't that long ago when the world had started to fall apart, back when there were several more beings here beside Ragdoll. He had seen her develop into a habit that was unhealthy but nevertheless he understood. His species was given little credit when it came to seeing how others reacted. Ragdoll, though, was a danger when she found someone that she could latch onto. Sharp hooks would come and hook into the flesh of her "victim" and pull them extremely close to her body. It wasn't completely her fault as she was lonely in a world of such destruction. Ragdoll held her position as Ammut had moved, it wasn't a guessing game as she knew he'd caught onto her actions. Instead she let Currion move away from her and back towards Ammut. Once more she knew she would be lonely in this world of sorrow and despair. Currion looked to Ragdoll as she nodded her head towards Ammut. In a few minutes, Ragdoll was once more alone. The female being stood up from her post as her tail, covered in hardened plates, curled slightly around her body before lashing out behind her once more. She was always a loner, though she would have rather had company. Her body started to disappear into the thick fog as she walked away from the somewhat cleared area. Once more she was swallowed up by the fog, having her disappear from view until their next meeting.

The Last RideHis fragile frame hoistsItself up into the saddle.Tired hands grab the reins.All but used up legs shiftTo the size of the saddle. "I'll make it." Was all he said to reassureAnyone that he could do it.His hands grip the reins,Causing the horse to look up. With the slightest shiftIn his weight, the horse moves.A wide smile on his face asHe pulls to the right. The horse rears up,His fragile frame twisting.A scream as he shifted to one side,In an instant the horse,Was without a rider. His fragile frame lay,Unmoving on the ground.A sad smile on his face,Pulling himself to stand. "I'll make it." He started to walk, thoughIn an instant the ground cameTo meet his body head on. Strong arms picked him up asA worried face met his. "Don't worry Dad, I'll get it." The fragile framed boy pushedHimself to stand on his own.A determined look on his face,His hands tightened as he walked. The horse whinnied as it pawedThe cracked ground.The boy nodded to the animal,Before he shifted his frame.He wasn't going to give in,Without a fight. "I told you, I'll make it." The horse reared up before comingAt the boy in a dead run.A scream was heard as the boy,Jumped and grabbed the saddle.He was going to make it this time. His fragile frame moved with easyThis time to sit in the saddle.The reins flying in the wind asHe grabbed at them.Soon holding them as he pulled back. The horse held no choice but to obey.In a dead run, soon to a dead stop.The fragile framed boy gave a cryIn surprise as a wide smile wasOnce more on his face. With the control once moreIn his hands, he looked backAnd waved wildly. "Come on! One more time!" Several figures kicked their horses.With whinnies the horses followedThe fragile framed boy and horse.The figures on the horses heldSad, soft smiles on their faces.They knew this was trulyThe last time. The fragile framed boyLooked back as a smileThat held no fear was there.The figures smiled with joy,But they knew better. "This will be the last time." The doctors had told them.The boy's fatherDropped to his knees asThe boy's friend couldOnly shake her head with dread. They knew it was going to beThe last time they ever sawThat smile again,That crazy wave, andThe last time they everHeard all thoseRoger Miller songs. The boy looked back to themAs he kicked his horse in the sides.The horse kicked to a gallop,Causing the figures to follow. "I'll get there!" That night as they laid outUnder the stars, he looked to her.A soft smile on his face asHe reached out and placed a strong hand,On her shoulder, soon gripping there. Her eyes cast to his with a sad look.He only shook his head as he smiled,Not wanting to see her or him upset.Soon he squeezed her shoulder,Rolling over then to sleep. "Don't worry, I'll be here when you wake." She nodded as she rolled overAnd dreamed a dreamless dream.All she was worried about wasThe fragile framed boy. Morning broke as she looked to him.He was still rolled over whereHe'd been the night before.She shook him only to findThat in the night,He'd passed away. Tears streamed down her faceAs she pulled him close.His father soon coming,And finding the despair there.Tears crawled from his eyes,As the boy was handed to him. "I told you not to worry." They had heard those words,So many times, and believed them.Now they had only wished,They had told him their own. "This was the last ride."trophy

FragileHis name was in shining lights. His reputation danced through the seven rings of hell. His face was plastered on cereal boxes for crying out loud! He was famous. He was far above from where he had begun. He had crawled his way out of the ashes and been born anew. So why did it feel as if there was a hollow feeling eating him alive? It started within his chest and crept its nasty way towards his mind. He could dance his heart away, spitting nasty slurs and punchlines at anyone making them the butt of his jokes. But that only ever helped for mere seconds. It was as if that hollow feeling was ever at the forefront of his thoughts and actions. It was a hidden fuel that he used to dig into the secrets that all of Hell tried to hide. Damn the poor souls that waltzed their ways into Ozzie's. That was his domain and it was where he preyed on those too weak to hide. It was what thrilled him. It gave him everything he wanted. Everything he adored. It was enough to make him forget for a few moments of everything that laid behind that backstage curtain. But tonight wasn't in his favor. The empty stage with the soft cerise hued lights that always stayed on gave no comfort tonight. The soft strain of mechanical legs swinging was a harsh echo of the empty club as the Jester sat on the edge of the famous stage of Ozzie's. It seemed tonight he was preying upon his hidden secrets. Pink hues danced within lime sclera as he looked out across the empty club. Normally poor suckers would be there for him to dash their hopes and dreams, but tonight he could only see echoes of his own mistakes coming to light. He had everything and yet this hollow feeling only continued to tear him apart. He was an entertainer but at the end of the night when the quiet took over and the sensation of a well done performance wore off--it was back to the memories. He placed a cool mechanical hand to his cheek as he wiped harshly. He jerked his hand away as the white paint came with it. His pink hues glaring at the hand with the ivory tone upon it. Did anyone truly see him for who he was? Did they only see the Jester that danced his way into so many sex driven dreams at night? Did they only care for the harsh jokes and nastier side of himself? Fizz heaved a heavy sigh as he knew the answers. They saw the performer. They saw the entertainer. They didn't see the broken Jester that laid his heart on his sleeves in the hope that the hollow feeling would find another to consume. Though it never did; instead clinging to him like a rain drenched shirt. It curled within the cracks and snaked roots deep within. Some were too painful to remove on his own as much as he hated to admit it. He called another broken clown a mistake but even he had to admit that he could look in the mirror and see the same. The high always wore off at the end of the night and the quiet always revealed more than the spotlights could ever wish too. The swinging of the mechanical legs met their end as the Jester forced himself to his feet once more. He was tired of looking out at memories that danced across the empty tables, that sat at the bar and ordered another round of pain for him to endure, and those that waltzed across the floor as if snakes that were ready to strike his being. Those pink hues darted around as he wanted them to leave but instead finding he was staring at the Lord of Lust's sigil as it seemed to give a soft glow. He shook his head as he spun on his heels. He'd had enough for tonight. Fizz felt himself pause at the back curtain. His mechanical hand, still smeared with ivory, paused in mid air neither touching nor shifting. The imp knew of the memories that clung to the shadows backstage. He tried his damndest to avoid them but their sweet whispers were intoxicating. Maybe another night he could handle their whispers of doubt, of unworthiness, of self-control giving way to the high of the performance. But tonight wasn't that night, Fizz knew that. "Just give me a reason. Any reason at all," his shattered voice pleaded into the dark fabric of the curtains. Tell me Fizzy, does the high ever out way the lows? The Jester spun around quickly as his pink orbs darted around, though finding no one there. He turned back towards the backstage curtain, though casting a look over his shoulder as he couldn't shake the hollow feeling once more. He pressed his teeth together with enough force to feel his jaws starting to ache as he threw the curtain aside to disappear behind it. The glow of his lime sclera guided his way to his dressing room. Though most of the performers would have called it an apartment with how large it truly was. Everyone knew it was due to the love that the Lord of Lust held for the imp. But tonight even with the massive space it felt like the walls were closing in on him. His pink hues looked around the room before he closed the door behind him. It shut softly as if the calm before the storm that was just on the horizon. The storm broke as soon as the soft click echoed within the room. A scream erupted from a sore throat that held silent tears from every performance. Hands gripped the fluffy chair at the vanity as it was flung across the room, crashing into the closet with all of the fancy costumes for each performance. The mirror stood no chance as Fizz picked up the side table by the couch and gave a hollowed cry as it was sent flying. The shards of glass scattered across the vanity and into the floor. He couldn't stop himself as he grabbed clothes from the closet that he could reach, hearing stitches pop and snap with his force. His mechanical arms extended as far as he pleased as he ripped fabric from fabric. His eyes were blurred as he felt tears coming. It seemed to only fuel that storm that was bellowing and pleading to escape. Fizz gave in as the destruction was a blur. He knew he had broken so many things. The shards of glass, the splinters of wood, the shreds of fabric being his only clue as he continued his onslaught. His heart was broken and that dam he had built all but came apart in a shower of tears as they streamed down his face. Their trails ate away at the ivory paint that covered his face. He reached for the vanity as he swiped his hands across the surface. Shards of glass danced in their pathway as one flew up towards his face. The Jester froze as he felt the glass slide across his cheek. He felt his entire body freeze as he stared into the few pieces of glass that clung to the mirror. The blood flowing was enough to send him back to the present. The destruction of the room he saw behind him had tears coming once more. He hung his head as he wished not to see any of it. The Jester knew the true reason: he couldn't stand to see the broken imp in the mirror. He had risen above the rest. He had been born anew. He had climbed his way out of that shithole of Mammon's circus and found his way into the heart of the Lord of Lust. And yet, there in that destroyed dressing room he knew the truth. The horrid truth that always clung to the darkened corners of his mind.

Remedied HatredThe scent of lavender and rosemary swirled around the light strawberry blonde, who was just barely able to see above the edge of the table. Her curious eyes watched her mother work, blending various petals and oils into tonics for those that needed remedy help. She’d always been a curious, though timid child. Her mother, Violet had been the one to cater to such a nature, even if the timid side showed from time to time. Violet knew at some point her daughter would outgrow the extremely timid nature but for now she held onto the memories that were being created. "Fay, do you know what plant this is," came the gentle voice of her mother. It snapped the young Fay out of her daydream of lavender and rosemary. Light blue hues lit up, staring at the plant Violet held in her gentle hands. "It'th yarrow," Fay was quick to duck her head as the lisp that tortured her came through. She'd tried so hard to speak slowly and clearly to no avail. She felt her heart breaking. It wasn't enough that her shyness, and timid nature, earned her teasing from the other kids of Saint Denis. No! The lisp that always clung to her speech earned her even more. Violet stopped her prepping as she felt the distress her young, beautiful daughter was under. She knelt down to be eye-level with Fay. She brought her gentle hands to cup Fay's cheeks. A warm, motherly smile upon her lips, "Sweet child, you're right it's yarrow. You are amazing in remembering the plants I have taught you so far!" Her mother knew that all the encouragement in the world would not be enough to break the chains that held her darling daughter, but she would try no matter what. It was what she did. She was Fay's mother after all. Even though she knew the lisp bothered the sweet child, time would only tell if she would grow out of it, as many children did. Though, deep down in her heart of hearts, Violet had a feeling that Fay would carry this lisp her entire life. She prayed otherwise but there was no true telling of what would happen until Fay grew older. But for now, Violet could hope that she would grow out of it. That warm smile remained as Violet rose once more. Her eyes were soft as she went to grab a stool for Fay to stand upon. She’d watched, with growing pride, the love Fay held for plants and their uses. The way Fay had taken to learning herbal remedies, and what the apothecary stood for, had warmed Violet’s heart more than she had words to express. Violet would not hinder that growth for anything in the world; she had hoped that her daughter would learn of such traditions. And in that hope Fay had not only thrived, but flourished! The young light strawberry blonde had taken to learning of the various herbs and their medical properties as if second nature. "Do you remember what yarrow is used for?" Fay's mind went to turning like that of a wooden wheel upon a horse drawn wagon. Her mind, no older than that of seven or eight, was packed full of teachings. Many of those teachings from her mother but the use of plants and their properties were always at the forefront of her mind. She couldn't remember a time, even in her young blossoming life, when she didn't know what a plant could or couldn't do. She knew there were some that could harm but there were more than could heal, even some that could cause harm but used correctly they could heal. "If uthed in a tea it can th’mooth th’omach ache’th. It can altho be ground up and applied to wound’th," Fay remarked with pride in her voice. Her mother nodded, giving a smile as her hands went back to creating a few more tonics. There had been a lady, from out of town, that had stopped by a few days ago. She'd been in dire need of herbal medicines to take with her family on their trip. Violet had told the woman that it would be a few days before all the medicines and tonics would be ready if the lady didn't mind waiting. Luckily for Violet Barnes the lady had been dire but not in such an ill fate that a few days would kill her to wait. It had struck Violet as quite odd but most out of towners were. They had their own traditions, beliefs, and natures that kept them hardy and her and her family had theirs. "Momma, what are you creating right now," the soft questioning of her daughter helped her work. She never minded answering Fay's questions, it showed her that Fay was interested and still remained curious to the world of herbal remedies. "This is a tonic to help you relax. Lavender and Rosemary work well together in that both are used to calm one down." "Ooh! I’th thi’th for that lady that came by the other day?" "Yes! She appeared as if a relaxing tonic would be of some good use for her soul. Whether she uses it or not is up to her." "Papa th’aid it would, th’he th’hould lith’ten." Violet giggled softly, "So she should, but not everyone has the mindset to listen to doctors. Whether they be your Papa or not my darling." Fay couldn't help but join in with the contagious giggles coming from her mother. There was never a time Fay couldn't find her mother easily soothed her soul. While she spoke with her mother the lisp was far from her mind, easily creeping into her words. But if her mother heard it she never acted on it. She knew her daughter, inside and out, and understanding her speech was as if breathing for Violet Barnes. Anyone that dared say a word of Fay's lisp was quick to meet Violet's protective mother side. There were some lines not to be crossed with the normally gentle natured Violet and speaking ill of her daughter was one such line. Violet grabbed a small basket once she’d finished the last few remaining tonics on her list for the out of towner. She placed each gently into their new home to await departure the following morning. Once the remedies were in place, Violet wiped her hands on her apron. The poor cloth was stained various purples, reds, blues, and some hues unnamable from years of wear. But until it completely had seen its use the apron remained tied around Violet’s waist to work within her apothecary. “Mama, what now?” “Now, my darling, we are off to make supper! Papa will be closing the practice down soon enough. We might want to make sure we have a nice, hot supper for him when he returns!” Fay’s light blues seemed to smile, “Can we make th’tew tonight mama?” Violet acted as if she was weighing her options. Stew sounded delightful, the weather had started to cool upon dusk’s approach. It wasn’t a bad choice. She smiled warmly, “Stew it is!” When Joseph entered the kitchen the smell of stew flooded his senses. He could feel the saliva starting to build up from how savory the scent already was. It was going to be a fulfilling meal and a good one at that! “Papa! Papa! Mama let me help thi’th time,” Fay cried with joy. Violet had been letting her help more in the kitchen since she was older now. It was another one of those moments that Violet couldn’t have been happier. Fay would shape up to be a woman that could easily handle herself. Truth be told, it both scared and filled Violet with pride. “Is that so my Wildflower,” Joseph in turn replied to his excited daughter. He enjoyed seeing Fay flourish. “It i’th th’o Papa,” Fay remarked quickly before disappearing back to her mother’s side to finish helping with dinner. It was a moment that Joseph would always remember. His family had given him reason to remain in Saint Denis, and more so to continue his practice. His compassion for those around him, and his patience, had slowly started to model his young daughter just as her mother’s love of nature and understanding of others had. Supper was peaceful within the Barnes’ home. Joseph and Violet talked of their day, sometimes throwing in moments of laughter and some curious beings that entered into their lives through the practice and apothecary. Fay would join in, giving her own reduction of how events played out; oftentimes even telling both her parents of her daydreams. For Joseph and Violet it was the perfect way to end the evening. After Fay had been sent to wash up and shortly after sent to bed, Violet spoke softly, “There was a lady that came by today. She acted in dire need of tonics but when I told her of the time frame for when they’d be ready, she quickly changed her behavior.” “She’s an out of towner my dear. They have such customs and we are not meant to understand them all,” her husband said thoughtfully. He knew Violet was never once to completely trust those that rolled in and rolled out quickly. She was kind hearted, and loved to help everyone, but even she knew to protect herself. Violet nodded slowly. She understood where her husband was coming from, and though he was more than likely right she still had her doubts. Still it was nothing to lose sleep over and soon enough the couple found themselves listening to Fay slumber. It wasn’t long before they joined her in peaceful dreams. Morning would come with the scent of coffee drifting to Fay’s room. Sleepy light blues would flutter open to meet the rays of the rising sun with tiny feet hitting the floor with excitement. That lady would be coming back to accept her mother’s tonics and hopefully listen to their usage. She hurried dressed, brushing the tangles from light strawberry blonde locks before running to the kitchen. Fay held manners but sometimes they escaped her in her excitement as often happened with young children. She was met with her father sipping away at his coffee while her mother cooked a light breakfast for him. Fay was bouncing as she took her seat at the kitchen table. Violet turned her head slightly to look over her left shoulder at her daughter, “Patience is key my darling. We’ll be setting off here in a few moments.” That was all the young Fay needed to try and control herself. She just wanted to see how the lady took to her mother’s advice and whether she would appreciate the time her mother had taken to prepare such valuable items. Not long after Joseph had finished his breakfast and coffee, the three Barnes were on the move. Joseph opened his practice once more for those of Saint Denis, while Violet and Fay returned to the apothecary. It was time for business as usual once more within their lives. A peaceful start to a fine morning was the way Fay saw it. There was nothing that could ruin this day, or so she thought. “Where have you been?! You said two days! It’s been three!” The sheer malice tone set Fay on edge and she looked to her mother. Violet only smiled, looking down to Fay before settling eyes once more on the lady from just a few days ago, “I beg your pardon ma’am. It has been two days as I stated.” As if trying to prove her point, Violet picked up the basket of tonics to show. Each glistened in the rising sun, showing their labels and contents with ease. The lady appeared stunned for a mere moment before she berated Violet once more, “Three days! I won’t pay a cent for such trinkets! Water and petals?! These are snake oils I tell you! Snake oils sold by a witch!” Violet felt her face heating up. How dare this woman slander her in front of her own daughter. She quickly sat the basket back down before Fay had a chance to see her physically shaking. Her eyes once warm started to harden but she refused to drop to the woman’s level, “Come now ma’am. There is no need for such words. Might there be an understanding we can come to?” Try as Violet might, the lady only seemed to grow more in her outlandish shouting. A crowd had slowly started to form around the apothecary. All of Saint Denis were knowledgeable of Violet’s apothecary, many coming to her for years. It was an outrage and several of the crowd voiced their opinions to the lady. “Please come inside. We shall discuss these matters and how you feel wrongfully cheated by my hands,” Violet called softly to the lady. Even if she felt every nerve in her body wanting to reach out and slap some sense into the woman, she would not. She had learned over the years that many were stressed, pushed beyond their limits, and in those times the next soul was their outlet for relief. Violet wouldn’t hold it against the lady or at least she would try not too. “Fay, go inside for now.” It was the only warning she would give the young girl. She wanted to talk in private as it appeared to be the only way to possibly get through to this out of towner. Fay did as asked or rather she darted around a corner before settling herself. She was out of sight and out of mind, her mother believing the young girl had gone as instructed. “Please ma’-” “I have a name! I am Lynn Mae, address me as such!” “Miss Mae, please lower your voice. I wish only to speak with you of such trying times for yourself,” Violet’s voice was level but filled with compassion. She was trying her damndest to control her own temper. She was a kind lady but she could show otherwise if push came to shove. Something many admired about her and something her husband loved beyond words about her. Lynn Mae seemed to settle slightly in Violet’s choice of words. Her harsh manner seemed to deflate back to that of a slightly elegant lady once more. Though she still seemed aggravated like a rattler ready to strike, “You promised two days. Three days have passed by my account and I won’t pay a cent for what you offer. I’ll take them freely or so help me-” “Miss Mae please! If you are so sure three days have passed then allow me to offer my tonics free of charge. A way to remedy the open wound I have inflicted for my careless acts.” Violet knew her timing was accurate. It had been exactly two days since Lynn Mae had visited her last. She was never one to go over a deadline she set. It was one of the reasons she had become such a treasure to Saint Denis. But now she felt backed into a corner, Miss Mae was giving her no place to go. In Saint Denis that was never a way to make anyone feel especially if you were an out of towner. There were grounds and customs to abide by and common courtesy as well! But Lynn Mae seemed to care little of such. Violet, though, would not let her temper get the better of her. “Do we have an understanding, Miss Mae,” Violet questioned, doing her best to keep the venom from her own words. While Lynn Mae took the time to consider Violet’s offer, Fay sat quietly where she had hidden herself. She was outraged! How dare this lady come into her mother’s apothecary and treat her in such a way?! It wasn’t right! But as much as Fay wanted to rush from her hiding place and tell this Lynn Mae off, she was more surprised by her mother’s actions than anything. Instead of returning the hatred, her mother returned kindness for an ill fated action that had never happened. It confused little Fay more. “I will take your trinkets,” Lynn Mae finally stated. Her mind had been made up long before she’d ever decided to pick up the tonics. She had no intention of paying for them. That wasn’t what Miss Lynn Mae did. No! She lied, tricked, and weaseled her way into many of her belongings and items that she deemed of value. Violet Barnes just happened to be the only one with anything of value that Saint Denis offered. “Very well Miss Mae. They are yours to take. I do hope they are of use to you,” was Violet’s parting words to Miss Lynn Mae. The lady exited the apothecary and disappeared down the road as the crowd had dwindled once they realized the matter was being handled in a manner deemed fit in Violet’s eyes. “Mama!” Violet turned suddenly with how close Fay’s voice had been. It startled her when she realized that Fay had not done as instructed. Violet shook her head, “Child, I told you to run along.” “I couldn’t let you handle that mean lady on your own,” Fay pleaded in response, hoping that maybe her mama would understand. “Everything was okay my darling. Miss Lynn Mae just wasn’t in the mood to be helped in a way that she needs.” “But Mama, how could you let her th’peak to you like that? Th’he wa’th wrong Mama! Wrong!” Violet picked Fay up and nestled her into her lap, bringing her arms to wrap gently around her daughter. She hummed quietly for a few minutes before finding the answer she needed, “Darling even if she was wrong in her actions, there are some fights that aren’t worth jumping into.” “I don’t-” “I know you don’t understand my sweet Wildflower but one day you will. Sometimes it is better to treat hatred with kindness instead of feeding it. What I mean is: hatred can be quilled by a kind word or touch. Sometimes that is all that is truly needed. For in life, hatred only feeds hatred. Nothing will ever be resolved.” Fay listened. Her light blue hues seemed to range in emotion from confusion to hurt to simply just nodding her head in the end. She laid her head against her mother’s chest shortly after, listening to her heartbeat. She didn’t fully understand what her mother had said but she didn’t doubt her mother’s words. Little did Fay realize that she had learned a lesson that day in her mother’s apothecary. One that would help shape her choices in her later years.

More From family_staralternate_emailOrielynSee Morearrow_outward

Similar ArtworksSee Morearrow_outward