Singer Girl

Singer Girl

The first golden rays of sun filtered in through the stained glass windows of a thatch roof cottage. Something in a corner stirred; a girl rose from her bed. She was fair of skin with thick, curly black hair that reached her elbows. Her eyes were bright forest green and she was tall and skinny. She quietly tiptoed to a shelf and picked up a woven basket; she gingerly walked toward the door. She stepped out into a dirt road that was lined with more houses and shops. Strolling silently to the main road, she turned toward the wood across from her hometown of Red Stream. The trees grew thickly and the forest ground was layered with soft, springy deep green moss. Sycamore and oak soared to the skies; every once in a while she’d spy a massive Magnolia, the aroma of its blossoms wafting through the wood.
She turned to see if she was out of earshot of the town and knelt down to begin collecting herbs and other plants. She opened her mouth and began to sing; no words came to her lips, but her beautiful, unearthly voice filled the air. She sang and collected until the sun had fully cleared the horizon, then stopped and listened. The sound of a nearby babbling brook and the chorus of songbirds replaced her voice in the air. Nothing unusual; then, a twig snapped behind her. She spun around and found herself face to face with a tan-skinned boy. “What are you playing at, singing again?” he said scornfully. He had wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes; though he was her age, he towered a full head higher than her, “You know the council forbade it! I’ll tell you, Len, if they catch you they’ll burn you at the stake.” Len waved aside this warning impatiently. “I’m not going to tell them and your not going to tell them,” she said, and then glared at him in mock suspicion, “You aren’t, right Liam?” He grinned at her mischievously and they both burst out laughing.
They’re hometown, Red Stream, was a very biased place; girls and women were forbidden from performing any arts, such as painting, drawing, dancing, and, most of all, singing. All the women were perfectly fine with this, as none of them had ever been interested in any of those activities. But then Len began to hum while she gardened; then she began to sing. Every morning she would sing to her heart’s content. After about a year, she’d sung so much that it had become as much a part of her as her limbs. Then a pesty neighbor heard her singing and reported her to the council. They had let her off with a warning and banned her from ever uttering another note. She felt strangely empty without her songs; then her best friend, Liam, told her to go deep into the wood to sing while she picked things for meals and such. Lately though, there’d been many close calls when a farmer wandered too close to her and nearly caught her. Recently, Liam had begun to warn her about singing; “Its too much of a risk!” he’d say. When she’d remind him it was his idea for her to sing in the forest, he’d just tell her that now he regretted it.
When she arrived home, she waved good-bye to Liam and went inside. She dropped off the plants she’d collected and went along doing her other chores. She milked the cow, swept the house, went to the market, churned the butter, and, her favorite, did the laundry. She collected all her family’s laundry in a whicker basket and once again, set off for the forest. She walked deeper this time, the moss becoming more abundant as she went until it covered her feet completely. She turned left around an exceptionally large Magnolia and made her way until she heard the babbling brook. She walked to the stream’s edge and set down her basket on a large boulder and sat down, criss-cross, as she began dunking her load in the sparkling clear water. As she looked around, she saw no one watching her, so she began to sing again. She sang louder this time. All of a sudden she heard someone clear his or her throat behind her. She spun around and saw Seth, another boy from town, leaning against a tree. He grinned maliciously at her and said only two simple words, “Race you!”
He shot like a bullet through the trees, back toward town. Len leapt up and sprinted after him, all the while screaming at him not to tell the council. Seth and she had been enemies ever since they’d first met at the midsummer town dance; he had asked her to dance and she’d accidentally laughed in his face, making him a laughing-stock of the whole town. Of course, she hadn’t meant to, it was only that he asked after Liam had told her an extremely funny joke, so she was still laughing when he asked her. She vaulted over logs and ducked low hanging branches in her attempt to catch him; but Seth was much taller and had longer legs than her, so she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Her cotton shift was plastered to her body with sweat; her hair whipped around her, blurring her vision. She finally broke through the trees, but didn’t slow down; all she was thinking was that she needed to head him off.
But, suddenly, someone threw a sack over her head and began to drag her away. When she was finally freed, she was lying on her back, next to the council. They glared at her and one stood up. He told her that she had disgraced their town and shamed her family, then he gave her 2 choices; #1, she’d be burned at the stake. Or, #2, she’d be abandoned on the side of a mountain. Of course, she chose to be abandoned. She was put in a large cage atop a wagon and carted down the main street. She could see her friends and family sobbing along the side of the road. Liam ran after her and the cart, but was pushed away by a guard. They traveled for a week, Len eating only scraps and drinking leftover rainwater. Finally, they dumped her on the side of the mountain with only a knife and an axe.
For many long months, she huddled under a log, eating only the old birds she could hit with stones and drinking from a small stream. But one day, as the sun rose above the horizon, she stood and heard someone whispering in her ear; they said, “Go back; they do not have this kind of power over you!” Somehow, she began to walk down the path; she walked every day, every night, never resting. By the time she was at the outskirts of town she had the appearance of a grotesque skeleton. Her skin was stretched over her bones and her eyes were slightly sunken; she was skinnier now, after not eating or drinking pretty much at all for nearly a year. She was taller, and still pretty, but her face was set in a stern grimace as she slowly walked up Main Street. People stared at her and pointed, most wondering who she was; none could recognize her in her torn shift and shredded shawl (both of which she had made by weaving thin vines into fabric). She stared around at them, all the liveliness gone, the warmth, dead cold. Then she opened her mouth wide, and began to sing. Her beautiful voice swept over the town, filling every home, every alley, every mouse hole. Birds flew from their perches to listen; deer raised their heads.
Then someone came running out into the street and began to shake her. “Len? Len, is that you? LEN?” came Liam’s voice. She never stopped singing, but nodded. The crowds around her gaped. Then the council came bustling toward her. They yelled at her to stop, shrieking at her that she could not sing. She silenced, then slowly turned her head and stared at them; finally she said hoarsely, “No; I am my own person, not yours.” Then she began to sing a new song, one with such a rhythm, that all the women and girls, men and boys, began to dance. Some girls hummed along with her. When the council objected, she silenced once again; “If you want to stop us, you’ll have to kill the whole town,” she croaked. They stared at her, flabbergasted, then they finally gave in, releasing them of their uncreative prison. For the first time in nearly a year, the old Len shone through as her face broke into a grin. She had beaten them, she had stood up for what she loved, and she had won.

THE END