A Glass Thought

All comments and critiques more than welcome.

Moonchild. part 1 of 2



I first encountered Alia on my third night in Kolhari. By then, most of the villagers had become accustomed to my presence. Still, there where times when I would enter the market square and could make out whispers from old women to a butcher or a merchant. They would reply: “Why, he is a scholar from Rome, here to take the census of Britain.”

This answer satisfied any curious locals, but it nothing to not stop the stares or questions. Even the family, whose guest room I was occupying, still picked and prodded at my books while I was gone. You might say that I am a bit of a paranoid man, keeping notice of the exact locations of my belongings before I leave my room: my pen is on my bed, just off center and facing the window; my ledger on the desk with a hair resting on the top right corner, so as to fall should it be disturbed.

The slight rummaging of my things didn’t bother me much, oh no. After all, I am a guest in their house, and if Thatcher’s wife, Marlene, finds herself curious while tidying up the room, then she is free to look. My trunk holds nothing but clothes (and a few items discreetly tucked into a hidden compartment sewn into the lining of my black coat folded neatly at the bottom.) My ledger and papers are all in Latin, and I doubt she would have much use of any of that. I am Francis Brutonius and I am a clerk of the Roman court.

If the lady Marlene wished to rob me, she would find very little of anything that she could pawn off. What does a census taker need jewels and gold for? The court pays for my meals and my stay in every town I visit. I live a life of complacent luxury without much worry or stress. All that is asked of me is to give a complete census of the Britain’s by early December and it is now late March.

Although I knew with certainty my possessions were being mingled with, I only knew through the modest displacement of them: a page slightly out of place, the hair resting across my ledger was now on the floor. It was the children who were bold enough to ask questions, rather than whisper behind me or wait until I was out to look through my things. Again, it is not that I was bothered by the secrecy. After all, it was the only polite way to invade privacy… unless of course, someone asked.

The children of Kolhari, they did neither. They did what children do: they demanded knowledge. As someone who frequently moves from place to place, it is my honor to pass along with me the stories of different countries and cultures and even the great legends of our fair Roman Empire. Truly, besides the free meals and warm beds, it is the only reason I keep doing what I do. As a man of 35, it is expected of me to keep a wife. Alas, it seems I am married to the road, and the lives attached to it. Now, Britain is my family, and in a year I must come to know her well.

Most days I rose with the sun. Kolhari was a farming community and their mornings began before night had truly ended. I bathed and dressed and began making my way from one side of town to the other. Since this was a farm community, the inhabitants lived miles out on either side of the town itself. The houses stretched across the irrigation canals which brought water from a nearby river. At that time I had yet to see this river, since it laid somewhere just beyond the forest.

That day I planned on making my way through town to take count of the folk in the northern half. There were only a few houses I had yet to visit in the south, and they could be attended to on the return trip. After all, these houses in the far north would be the most work, and getting to them early was probably best.

After making my way from house to house and the sun had risen and began to fall, I realized I had lost track of the time. Rupert Hasser was an entertaining man and had a way with guests. I liked him so much that I regretted leaving. He had his stories and I had mine, and with his family around the table we ate and talked and laughed until I had to insist on leaving.

“Rupert, it’s been too long since I’ve laughed that hard. Hopefully we can do this again sometime before I leave.”

“Of course lad, we’ve had plenty of you Roman folks travel through here but none quite like you. You’re welcome anytime you like.” Rupert looked outside as the near full moon broke from the clouds.
“Ah, it is late. I suggest you cut through the woods. Just follow the stream ‘till you get to an old stone bridge. From there head east and it’ll lead you right to the Thatcher’s house.”

“Thanks again Rupert. Goodnight!” I called back. I followed the path out of the farm then headed towards the trees, following a ditch to the river.

I know it isn’t safe to travel dark trails at night. Maybe it was because Rupert said to that made me think it was safe. It could have been that I was a tad drunk. Whatever the reason, I followed the river south, whistling a tune I heard the farmers singing in the fields earlier. If I knew the words I would have sang.

Ten minutes into the woods my whistling subsided to thoughts of love and what it would be like to make love in the shallows of the stream here, under the canopy of stars. I was busy arguing with myself over which were more beautiful: Roman women, Indian women, or Spanish women, when I saw her. A child, about thirty yards ahead of me, dancing in the shallows of the river. I could hear her laughter and see her smile. I rode closer as the moon cut through the trees and made her skin and white dress glow with a silver touch.

“Excuse me.” I called out. “Don’t be frightened, I’m not a bad person. But shouldn’t a little girl like you be home in bed? If your parents knew you were missing they would be worried sick.”

She ignored me and continued dancing and doing cartwheels and kicking the water up in ribbons of light that licked the air… and then she was gone.

I don’t mean she disappeared, I wasn’t that drunk, but one second she was there, and the next—while my eyes followed the trail of water left hanging from one of her kicks—she vanished into the woods. I heard no footsteps, but a girl as light as that wouldn’t leave much of a trace.

A whole two minutes I sat there on my horse, not knowing whether to chase after her or ride ahead. Eventually I decided that she must have gone home, and rode one. It wasn’t another ten minutes or so before I saw the bridge, and from there another eight before I was back in my room.

I took off my coat and picked up my ledger. A hair slide down the cover and brush my hand. Smiling, I undressed then went to sleep.

The following day was the wedding of Chalon to the widow Rita’s daughter, Lluvia, and everyone in town attended the ceremony. I wore my best jacket and stood in the back. Although I am a devout Christian, these pagan ceremonies were a gift to be a part of. We danced and music played and the party lingered on late into the night. I let myself be goaded into a game they called horseshoes, and it wasn’t until a few hours past midnight that I began to make my way back. The music was still in the air and a few of the younger townsmen and women still sat around a fire, laughing and chatting.

I crossed into the town square, where a fountain sat at its center. The fountain was some mythical beast I was not familiar with, but it had furry legs and two small horns, and water shot from its mouth into the pool below.

On the edge of the fountain, there seemed to be a bundle of white clothing. As I rode closer I realized it was a person, sleeping at the edge of the fountain; A little girl.

I immediately knew this must be the same girl I saw in the woods. I dismounted and walked over to where she lay. Before I could grab her shoulder to wake her, her eyes opened and she sat up.

“Hey there, do you remember me? Were you at the wedding too? Well the party is over now, why don’t I take you home.”

She smiled and ran around to the other side of the fountain. She sat on the opposite edge and peeked at me from behind the stone creature.

“Oh, it’s okay now. Really, your parents must be worried. Let’s go.” I said. And she just smiled. At that time someone called out from behind me.

“Hey Roman, you forgot this damned booky thing or whatever it is. All I see is scribbles.” Cuthbert, Chalon’s father, was holding my ledger out if front of him. I walked over to him as the moon faded behind the clouds. I stopped and looked back. The girl had gone again.

“What’s the matter Roman, I heard you talking to someone, are you so drunk as to talk with a fountain?” He laughed.

“No, there was a little girl sleeping near it, but she must have run off. A little blonde girl, in a white nightgown… what’s wrong?” After mentioning what I saw his smile faded.

“You must have seen Merlina’s little girl, Alia. You aren’t the first to see her out at night.”

“I don’t think I’ve met anyone named Merlina, was she at the party tonight?” I asked, and tried to recall that name from my census.

“No, Merlina sleeps now, and you would do well not to disturb those who sleep.” He said, and handed me my ledger. His eyes kept moving from mine, to the fountain behind me, as if he were expecting to see something.

“Okay, well then maybe tomorrow I’ll meet her. Does she know her daughter carries on in this way?”

“Who knows? Goodnight Roman.” Was all he said as he walked away.

__________________
"You have confused the true and the real." -George Stanley

I am worth $2,288,562 on HumanForSale.com

mwd

EDIT: Wow, I am dumb. After writing all this I realized it says part 1 of 2, which explains a bunch of my comments below, and my complaint about the lack of an ending. So, just ignore those parts of my critique, LOL.



Hey,

I liked reading this. It was pretty well written. The ending confused me a little, though, because it seemed like you just stopped all of a sudden, without any real resolution. I'm not sure if by sleeping he was implying that Alia's mother was dead? That she was a ghost? Or if I'm just being silly and the dialogue was meant to be taken literally? Either way, the ending left me a little confused.

You had an interesting setting, and some interesting characters. You provided some good characterization of the MC especially, and how he kept track of all his things -- however you never really tied this aspect of his character with the main story's plot. While I like detailed characters, generally you want your character's personality to somehow fit in with the theme or plot of your story.

Maybe it is related to some underlying theme here that I'm missing? At the moment, while I enjoyed reading your story, I'm not really sure what it was trying to say, and how the various aspects of the story link together to say whatever it is.

Anyways, that's all for general comments. Here is some specific nitpicky stuff, although the stuff above is probably more important:

A few times in here, you seem to have unnecessary words which could be cut out, such as "she would find very little of anything that she could pawn off", which could be edited down to "she would find very little that she could pawn off". As it is, my brain stumbled on to the extra phrase 'of anything'. It seemed extra.

This is a style thing and completely subjective, but there seemed to be a few extra commas:
"Now, Britain is my family, and in a year I must come to know her well." << Is the comma after now necessary? Maybe you really want it there, just keep in mind it slows the reader down.
"Even the family, whose guest room I was" << Same thing with the comma after family.

But yeah, I liked this. A few awkward sentences here and there, due to a few extra bits. I think with a little trimming/editing you could make it flow better.

A Glass Thought

Haha, that's funny. Don't worry, I've done it before myself.
Yes, it's about halfway complete. And I didn't want to post the whole thing in one post because then it'll just be this enormous piece and most people would look at it and go "fuck that, that's too long."
So I can see how you would be confused with all of the loose strings hanging everywhere. It would be a sorry excuse for an ending if that was all of it.

I know what you're saying about the comma's. When I write I'll just keep going and whenever my mind pauses to complete the sentence, my fingers unconciously enter a comma. So I always have to go back and subtract commas and words here, and enter them there. It is not that the extra commas make it any harder to read, but after a while they become noticable.

Thanks for enjoying so far, I hope you stick around to read the rest of it.

Anyone else care to comment?

__________________
"You have confused the true and the real." -George Stanley

I am worth $2,288,562 on HumanForSale.com

aloycius

I enjoyed every sentence of this; but exclusively, I enjoyed the beginning and the middle. You did a great job of developing your character, and his voice is personable.

The narrative style is good, it reminds me of my own. I like being able to see the story unfold through the characters thoughts.

Fixing the errors would be welcomed, but it doesn't really interfere with the story. The end wasn't very satisfying, as I was interested and wanted more than I got. I do recognize that it's only the first part to a second part, but still, even in parts, I think there should be a comfortable transition point.
But maybe I'm wrong, after all, the second part can really go just about anywhere.

Keep up the good work, I look forward to the second part.