Post by Missa on Aug 16, 2008 7:55:45 GMT -5
I did this on another site. Writing stories about our characters childhoods. So far, I've only done one. I'll probably do others and post em though. Feel free to write your own! I think it'd be fun to sorta see what the characters were like as kids.
It wasn’t often Beka saw the marvels of a Hold, of all the stone and people wandering about. Even less, did she see the wonders of a gather; hear the music and the laughter coming from the holds. Now, hearing it from the safety of the river, Beka was just beginning to realize what she was missing out on. At a distance, she could see girls, long skirts with pretty colours, could hear the chatter of talking but unable to make out the words. Just once, she’d like to know what it was like to smile, and not be afraid, just once.
“Beka? What are you doing here? Your father is worried.” Killina’s voice spoke ever so softly, but it was enough to make the eight turn old spin around with a guilty look. Smiles and the innocent look had never worked on her mother, but it didn’t stop Beka trying as she smiled slightly at her mother. Waving once hand at the Hold, she turned her eyes there again, wondering what it would be like to wear pretty skirts like that, not worn pants and a ripped shirt that was far too big for her. She’d never asked where her mother had gotten them; she’d just accepted it, like everything else.
“I was watching the gather.”
So she couldn’t go in, so she couldn’t play with children her own age, it wasn’t that big a deal? At least she had clothes on her back, it was something, if not everything she could want.
“Mama, what’s it like out there?” What is it like to laugh like you haven’t a care? What’s it like to smile and only imagine the nightmares that haunt my dreams? What’s it like to wear pretty skirts and know you can get them dirty? What’s it like to have friends you can play with, go to for a hug when you’re afraid of the man that looks after you? What’s it like to be a normal child?
“It’s… Different, Beka. That’s all, just… Different.”
A silence followed those words, mother and daughter staring at the world they’d never be a part of, Killina wishing she could return, Beka wanting to know. Just one day, one day was all she asked. She could live with the beatings; she could live with terror and pain, and the constant bite of hunger in her belly. She’d put up with it all for one day of being a normal little girl.
“Will you take me one day?” It was a question without much hope, the girl’s eyes closing with a wistful sigh.
“No. You know I can’t.” Oh yes she knew, and the reason came towards them with surprising stealth for a man so large.
“Neither of you should be out here. Do you want to have to leave already?” It was a gruff voice that Beka had learned to fear, but never to respect and certainly not love. Now, she felt more of a resentment towards the man who called himself her father than ever before. One day was all she asked.
“Papa, can we go to the gather? Just once?” Oh she should have known better than to pose such a question, she knew the reaction before she felt the sting of the slap. It wasn’t unusual, but like every other time, it brought tears to her eyes, ones she fought back with the hurried blinking of her eyes.
“No.”
No. It was always no. Beka refused to move once her mother had left, once her father had stormed off. She’d go, in her own time. What would it be like to be so carefree? To grow up having everything given to you, not having to climb in trees for fruit, or dig for greens. The longer Beka watched, the longer the feeling of envy grew in her heart, making her glare at the gather that had once astounded her. Jealousy. Why should they have everything? Why should they get all they wanted while Beka didn’t have what most kids needed? She didn’t have a mother’s love, or a father’s protection. They did. What more could they want?
“One day. Just one day in a world I don’t belong in… Give me just one day…”
With those heartfelt, almost pleading words, the holdless child turned her back on the security of the Hold, returning slowly to the waking nightmare and pain she knew awaited her under her father’s gaze. Tears pricked at her eyes as she walked, burning, dripping on dirty cheeks. She’d never have all they had, she had to face it, she’d been born to a Shunned man, a term she didn’t understand, other than it made the few people she’d seen look at her father with fear or hate in their eyes, the same feelings Beka felt each day when she dragged open her eyes.
Withstand the blows, cry like he wants her too, that’s all she can do when her father is angry at her. Beg and plead for him to stop, stop the bleeding of her nose with her hand as she cowers away from the anger directed at her. Knocked around a bit, until she cries out with pain, until she curls herself into that little ball that will protect her, until she begs and pleads, until she tells him everything he wants to hear while that cool feeling inside burns.
Later, when her father’s heavy breathing assured her he was really asleep, Beka’s eyes went to the sky she could barely see through the red haze of pain and the tears. Other children didn’t have this, they didn’t have to run, or hide, they could run to their fathers, not away. They could know that no matter what, their parents would love them, Beka wanted to be like them. Looking up, with one hand curled around her stomach, the eight turn old whispered four words before she closed her eyes for sleep.
“Give me one day.”
Just Give Me One Day
(Beka)
(Beka)
It wasn’t often Beka saw the marvels of a Hold, of all the stone and people wandering about. Even less, did she see the wonders of a gather; hear the music and the laughter coming from the holds. Now, hearing it from the safety of the river, Beka was just beginning to realize what she was missing out on. At a distance, she could see girls, long skirts with pretty colours, could hear the chatter of talking but unable to make out the words. Just once, she’d like to know what it was like to smile, and not be afraid, just once.
“Beka? What are you doing here? Your father is worried.” Killina’s voice spoke ever so softly, but it was enough to make the eight turn old spin around with a guilty look. Smiles and the innocent look had never worked on her mother, but it didn’t stop Beka trying as she smiled slightly at her mother. Waving once hand at the Hold, she turned her eyes there again, wondering what it would be like to wear pretty skirts like that, not worn pants and a ripped shirt that was far too big for her. She’d never asked where her mother had gotten them; she’d just accepted it, like everything else.
“I was watching the gather.”
So she couldn’t go in, so she couldn’t play with children her own age, it wasn’t that big a deal? At least she had clothes on her back, it was something, if not everything she could want.
“Mama, what’s it like out there?” What is it like to laugh like you haven’t a care? What’s it like to smile and only imagine the nightmares that haunt my dreams? What’s it like to wear pretty skirts and know you can get them dirty? What’s it like to have friends you can play with, go to for a hug when you’re afraid of the man that looks after you? What’s it like to be a normal child?
“It’s… Different, Beka. That’s all, just… Different.”
A silence followed those words, mother and daughter staring at the world they’d never be a part of, Killina wishing she could return, Beka wanting to know. Just one day, one day was all she asked. She could live with the beatings; she could live with terror and pain, and the constant bite of hunger in her belly. She’d put up with it all for one day of being a normal little girl.
“Will you take me one day?” It was a question without much hope, the girl’s eyes closing with a wistful sigh.
“No. You know I can’t.” Oh yes she knew, and the reason came towards them with surprising stealth for a man so large.
“Neither of you should be out here. Do you want to have to leave already?” It was a gruff voice that Beka had learned to fear, but never to respect and certainly not love. Now, she felt more of a resentment towards the man who called himself her father than ever before. One day was all she asked.
“Papa, can we go to the gather? Just once?” Oh she should have known better than to pose such a question, she knew the reaction before she felt the sting of the slap. It wasn’t unusual, but like every other time, it brought tears to her eyes, ones she fought back with the hurried blinking of her eyes.
“No.”
No. It was always no. Beka refused to move once her mother had left, once her father had stormed off. She’d go, in her own time. What would it be like to be so carefree? To grow up having everything given to you, not having to climb in trees for fruit, or dig for greens. The longer Beka watched, the longer the feeling of envy grew in her heart, making her glare at the gather that had once astounded her. Jealousy. Why should they have everything? Why should they get all they wanted while Beka didn’t have what most kids needed? She didn’t have a mother’s love, or a father’s protection. They did. What more could they want?
“One day. Just one day in a world I don’t belong in… Give me just one day…”
With those heartfelt, almost pleading words, the holdless child turned her back on the security of the Hold, returning slowly to the waking nightmare and pain she knew awaited her under her father’s gaze. Tears pricked at her eyes as she walked, burning, dripping on dirty cheeks. She’d never have all they had, she had to face it, she’d been born to a Shunned man, a term she didn’t understand, other than it made the few people she’d seen look at her father with fear or hate in their eyes, the same feelings Beka felt each day when she dragged open her eyes.
Withstand the blows, cry like he wants her too, that’s all she can do when her father is angry at her. Beg and plead for him to stop, stop the bleeding of her nose with her hand as she cowers away from the anger directed at her. Knocked around a bit, until she cries out with pain, until she curls herself into that little ball that will protect her, until she begs and pleads, until she tells him everything he wants to hear while that cool feeling inside burns.
Later, when her father’s heavy breathing assured her he was really asleep, Beka’s eyes went to the sky she could barely see through the red haze of pain and the tears. Other children didn’t have this, they didn’t have to run, or hide, they could run to their fathers, not away. They could know that no matter what, their parents would love them, Beka wanted to be like them. Looking up, with one hand curled around her stomach, the eight turn old whispered four words before she closed her eyes for sleep.
“Give me one day.”
