A GIRL NAMED CHARITY
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"Where an old well just sits in the middle of the forbidden lands, it feasts on something different, no water, no man, no woman or children. This well is given the peace treaties, it is thrown the coins of many, and it is given everything that nobody wants. The well sits there, it sits there alone; on a grassy hill, dying plants around the perimeter of the circle, four robed women stand around the circle made of stones, forged by the strangest of the strangest, the creature with no needs. This creature is living in a well that is given everything. The villagers that try to get through life; dining, swimming, surviving and the most important thing of all, giving away their souls."
Down this grassy hill leads to some hellish-looking buildings, the people that live beyond that are known as Heaven breathers. The ones that choose to mine and dig up soil, the ones that choose to die and become skeletons in the ground are known as Hell reapers. Neither human, neither creature has entered the forests that surround the well. Fallen trees, birch, pine and all kinds of woods were foraged from the upper mountains to the lower chasms. A spiral of blood flows below them, they just don’t know it yet…
Charity, a girl, a villager who has taken great pride in being known as a Heaven breather. What she never shared was her inner-spirit, across from the Heaven breathers, below the rubble of burnt and scorched villages, there was another one who was intelligently linked to her. Little did she know that her actions would cause misery to someone else? This human known as Justice, another girl who happens to be almost identical to Charity. It is no wonder why the villagers talk about her behind her back, and share little secrets with the forbidden well. Throw in something special, hear the sound of it sinking, bubbling and before you know it, you have dinner served from blood.
“Charity, oh dear, Charity?!” Her mother shouted from across the room.
Charity opened her eyes slightly, she was falling sleep due to her busy work schedule ahead of her.
“W-what? What is it, Mother?” She yelled.
“Another cycle of the blood, did you not hear it?”
Charity looked down at the wooden tiles, below that was more hidden treasures. She bit her bottom lip and proceeded to stand. Standing up tall, she looked across the room, and raised her left eyebrow towards her Mother.
“Ha, ha, I don’t hear anything…”
Her mother stomped on the ground, creaking the chair and table as she stood up from her seat.
“How dare you! You will hear that blood, Charity. It is everywhere, how are you not to hear it?”
Charity’s mood changed in a matter of minutes. Her thoughts of her mother were below average, she didn’t even want to live under the same roof. The sun gazing through the thick white clouds, winds whistling through the pipelines of the village. Slight droplets of past rainy weather kept the same rhythm as it drooled outside through the drains.
“Where is Father? Is he not going to show up for this dinner?” Charity sipped her drink of potion.
“Yes, yes, he will be back… he made you that especially.” Her mother smiled, her grin widened as she continued sipping.
“Good. Father actually cares, he actually has a heart. Blood or no blood, we don’t listen out for it.”
“You really push my patience, Charity.” Her mother spat out her swig of polluted water.
Her mother pushed back her dark brown hair, wrapping it around her knotted strands of loose hair. Her blue eyes shined with the sunlight coming in through the windows. Her tatty dress kept her looking happy, she felt warm inside and cold outside, and she didn’t feel much for Charity. Her mother’s appearance was so much different to what Charity wore as casual clothing. Charity wore half blue robe with a dark scarf going around her neck, resting on her shoulders for support. Her dark blue eyes weren’t as lit up as her mother’s, her eyes were more oval and pretty to look at in the night. She adored her father, loved him for what he did, and hated what he made her do every day and every night. She always had to clean the villagers’ houses and always tidying up several murders that occurred outside their home.
“Charity, honey, you’ve got some work to do, again. More shovelling, more buckets of water, and a trip to the well.”
“You better watch where you step, Mother. I’m not going to just walk those heavy piles for nothing…”
“Grudge. You always have something to be miserable about… when will you realise that your jobs are for girls like you? Women like me, ahem’ ladies like me, beautiful known Heaven breather ladies, they deserve comfort and everything that girls like you can’t afford.”
“If I had learnt anything from father, I’d use the spells and potions, I’d bring the hunters here. I would.” Charity sobbed.
“Tears, perfect. Good girl, Charity.” Her mother smiled with a smug face, claiming a few tears in a jar.
Charity felt miserable again, everyday she would feel the same way, every night she would get small amounts of sleep. Other villagers have spread rumours about her sleeping on the job. They’ve made fliers and small signs around the well with carved in words: “Charity, the girl who was a Heaven breather and now she sleeps with the lions.” Charity found out about the disturbance and the hidden lies a few years ago when her father returned from his job around the village; Hunter. He wasn’t just a hunter, he had a role that played a big part in the village. Heaven breathers alike, they would all praise the Witch Hunters, the ones that hunt and never leave a corpse in sight.
Charity grabbed her clothing that resembled a poor child, the clothing that she had to wear for her jobs, it was really heart-breaking to see from her father’s point of view. Her mother never thought anything of it, she just ignored the fact that her daughter was easy picking and could be trampled on by any Male villager. She had suffered a lot in the past; brutally beaten, tied up and held for ransom money, thrown in with wild animals, thrown in pits full of strange creatures. There was even the most common among the villagers, treating her like a slave girl. The richer side of the hills, they would forage her for anything on her, magic spells, books, and sometimes used her for sexual purposes. It became common and less common as her father stood up for her whilst her mother let it all happen.
She walked outside, closing the unsteady door and placing her scarf over her chin. She loved hiding herself from the strangers out there, she knew that the villagers, the strangers, the people of the world, would all want her thrown in the well or even casted out past shore. Either way, she was a target for many, her father included. He never had the heart to tell her anything about it. They kept their meetings private and would never share inside information with outsiders. One of the targets for the Witch Hunters was to slay Charity’s mother, another was to painfully execute Charity and then claim the gold and minerals she had found along her travels to her job locations.
“Charity… that girl, did you hear?” A distant voice bounced across the fences.
“That girl, is it just me? Or, is she so different to us all?” Another voice carried by the winds.
Charity heard every word, she didn’t want to share her feelings with the world. She kept bottling them inside, ignoring the chanting, the voices around her, and the sounds that screamed her name. She blocked it all out, and let it all in, holding it inside her head, like she wanted to drown in the conversations flowing in her head, she wanted to swallow her fears and suffer for what they had done to her. She squinted through several cracks in the walls, looking through each one, seeing lips move and ignoring the words, the sounds that the others made. She continued walking past fences, past gates, past anything that would mean seeing a villager. She came to the first corner and looked ahead, foggy hills and some snowy mountains in the distance. Several waterfalls reflecting a double rainbow across the greyish skies, mixing the sunset with some beautiful colours that flowed through the clouds.
“Charity? Is that you, girl?” A farmer-like voice called from behind her.
Charity squinted again, looking in the corner of her eyes, getting a slight glimpse of a silhouette standing in the centre of smoke and dust. She turned at a slow pace, looking behind her, staring at the man who called her name. He smiled at her, took of his hat and placed it on the ground. His pitchfork wedged between the sludge and thick mud piles. He waved at her, trying to get her to come near him. Charity backed away, walking slightly towards him at the same time. She had a choice: Run or Stay? She chose the unobvious going towards the man with open arms. She unravelled her scarf and pulled out her small shovel from her left pocket. She put on a fake smile and shown the shovel to the man, he smiled again and looked quite happy to see her.
“I say, I didn’t expect you to walk over here… not with everything that is going on, outside and inside.”
She nodded. “Yeah, well, don’t expect much from me…” she sighed.
“Okay, missy, you have a point. As a noble villager, and a farmer of these lands, I promise to not expect from you.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want my father knowing about this. He is brutal and like a wild beast when he finds out about what I’ve been doing lately. So much, so much to do, you probably just want me for some chores, am I right?” She spoke in a forced polite voice.
“Aha, ha, ha, I don’t want that!” He backed away from her, kicking his hat towards her. “I’d rather you stay, I heard a lot about you, missy.”
~ Not far from Charity, we have the so-called Justice a girl who is the same age as Charity, and doesn’t share much in common. ~
Justice had just spoken to a wise old man, someone who she knew a lot about. She had finished shovelling the pits, fitting in the bodies of many. Her father poured all the canisters of oil around the bodies, not long before lighting them and engulfing them in flames and smoke. She looked just like Charity, the only difference being her eye colour, and her hair style looking a little wilder than Charity’s. She worked on a farm, milking cows, fixing up foods for the villagers and making profit along the way. Her eye colour being a light green, and her face looking a little prettier. Her nose shape was different, and her hair was let down, leaving it to be free and wild with the winds.
“I’ve finished, father.” Justice whispered.
“Good ole’ Justice, my daughter who never stops trying to amuse me.” He laughed.
Justice hugged her father, held him tight and then glanced at her mother who had been sitting near the meadows. Her white robe and her dark hair tied back. Her mother was more organised and more sophisticated than little Justice. Her father was more of working man, he was a loving and caring kind of father, but he wouldn’t stand for any backchat or any kind of entertainment from his family. He loved hearing the drama that went on outside his home and village, he loved hearing all kind of stories from the folks who lived there.