It all takes place in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere " but in this realm that was many places. There buried in the woods was a cottage, almost fairy tale-like in its structure, with a wrap-around porch and a neat garden both in front and out in its backyard. The stones of the cottage gray with a flagstone walkway leading up to its porch.
Surrounding the porch was a network of roses, most of them known as peace roses, with a few lilacs, sweet peas, and poises buried among them. The roof gently slops down with the shingles a patchwork pattern of navy and royal purple. This was a home for refuge, a place of sanctuary to the few allowed within its walls.
It was calm, quiet, special and yet this is where the scene of turmoil takes place, on the second floor and if one had wings they could fly up and peer inside the window.
Moonlight pours within, casting shadows from its eerie light, dark figures that slither along walls and the floor. There is a bed set off into a corner of the room, conveniently facing the door. There a figure tosses and turns; legs shifting, flaring out, as though trying to kick something, someone away, her breath coming faster with her struggle. But she is alone in the room and lost to whatever haunts her.
" It was a bright sunny morning and Vera was out with her mother. Like something in a movie it seems as though everything zooms in on this tiny girl who looked to be only four years old. The girl is laughing but the sound is muffled though one can clearly see her looking up, tugging on the hand she is holding. Vera had been dressed in plain homespun skirts and a blouse, drab colors of brown and gray. Her mother that morning had braided her hair which hangs down her back with a black bow of silk. Normally it would have been a bit a yarn but Vera had been told it was a special present. The silk of that single scrap of cloth costs far more than the clothes the child was wearing but young Vera had no way of knowing this.
They reach the river and here Vera lets go of her mother's hand, rushing down towards the water. Here this motion picture of a dream zooms out and we see the woman. It may come as a bit of a shock that this was Vera's mother.
She was a beautiful woman of coffee colored skin, long black hair, and warm brown eyes. She looked absolutely nothing like her daughter whose skin was pale during winter months, whose hair bleached nearly blonde in the sun, and sported a pair of startling amber eyes.
Still the four year old was obviously concerned with none of this and why should she be? Her life, while that of a simple Romany peasant, was a good one for her. The child had already kicked off her shoes and had pulled off her wool stockings to better play in the water. The woman keeps a careful eye on the child while she gathers water for the day but for some reason she keeps glancing over her shoulder, fear clearly written on that pretty face.
Suddenly everything can clearly be heard, from the sound of the Danube River rushing over rocks, to the birds cawing in the trees.
"Vera, come help me, we need to go love."
"Yes Mama," came the sweet voice of Vera, already pulling on her worn shoes but leaving off her stockings. It was an unusual hot day in this part of Romania. Vera tucked away the stockings into a pocket of her skirt. Running over she grabs a clay jar and dips it down into the water, humming to herself a lullaby her father sang to her when he had put her to sleep that following night.
Soon enough the sounds of galloping horse riders take over everything else, leaving both woman and child looking up in surprise at the intrusion. Once again we see fear come across the woman's face, a clay jar slipping from her fingers to only shatter on the ground, water spilling everywhere and turning the ground into mud.
"Vera, come here, come here now!"
Swallowing roughly against a throat suddenly growing dry with anxiety Vera toddles closer to her mother, pulling on her skirts to all but hide herself in them. There on the ridge sits a man on his horse, staring them down.
A man with tawny hair and strange, amber eyes "
There was another man with the first who stayed off in the background of the woods but he could hardly be seen and it looked to Vera as though shadows covered his entire figure, leaving nothing but his silhouette on his horse. It was like looking through a glass darkly, something murky and terrifying " at least to a child of four.
Vera suddenly crossed herself, whispering, "He is the devil Mama, we should run, run before he takes us to hell."
"Hush Vera, child, it will be all right."
"But Mama ?"
"Hush!"
"Lia " Lia I think it's time she knows ?" Said the man with amber eyes, leading his horse down towards the woman.
"Lia please, I have rights you know, just because you married that peasant ?"
"Only because you were already married " Rolando. And that peasant is her father, you should be aware of that."
Trembling Lia hugs Vera closer to her, her arm held possessively around the girl. Rolando scoffs, dropping gracefully down from his horse. Pausing he looks up to the still figure of the other man, minutely nodding his head. It must have been a signal of sorts for the other rider soon leaves, making Vera much more comfortable. That man was surely Diablo, she could feel it! But she was perplexed by the two adults, her eyes darting back and forth while they continued to argue.
"I am her father!" Rolando finally shouts but thankfully in English, leaving Vera even more confused and intrigued. She had never heard that language before, her mouth forming a perfect "o' of surprise.
Looking around Lia finally lets go of Vera, stepping towards Rolando to firmly slap him across the face.
"I don't care if you throw us off your lands, you have no right! No right at all trying to take my child, a child you helped conceive in sin! You are a married man but did that stop you? No! I was a good Catholic girl, I believed it when you said you loved me but when I was pregnant you proved your worth to me!" She spat on the ground near his feet, her dark eyes hot and angry, "You left me to go back to your wife! I was lucky to find a good man who loves both me and my child! I am pregnant again and God so help me, if you cause to me miscarry over this Rolando I will curse you!"
Rolando took several steps back, holding a hand to his face, his eyes narrowing down on her. "Lia " I know I was wrong, I was a young man, and I did love you. Wait, look " please listen to me. I know I have made some mistakes but please let me know my child ?"
"Ha! From what I understand from talk in the village you and your wife have had other children. Leave me, mine!"
The argument continues on in this language she doesn't understand and thus, left to her own devices she decides to go down back to the water. Kicking off her shoes and hiking up her skirts she begins to play, laughing and gurgling to herself the way children do when left to their own imagination. Bending down she picks up a rock and skips it over the river. Of course it is a river and is soon swallowed up but this doesn't stop the child.
Looking over her shoulder, Vera chews her bottom lip. It would be bad of her to venture further on, to go deeper into the woods. She knows she may get in trouble but "
Something was calling to her. Like a whisper on the wind, pulling at her the way the moon does to tides. It was inevitable that when given the chance Vera was going to go and explore. She was four years old, it is after all what they do best.
Soon we seen her traveling by the edge of the river, moving into the woods, where the sound of " bells" A flute"
Maybe more like the wind chimes one hears from a neighbor's porch; the sound went whistling through the forest, beckoning to the child. Venturing further in and abandoning the Danube Vera soon enough comes across " a woman' She wasn't sure, tilting her head and looking over the figure. They were tall (at least from a child's view) lithe in frame with long, long black hair. The face was pretty, very pretty or so Vera thought, smiling to herself now.
"Hallo, are you the one making music?"
"Well hello mortal child," suddenly this figure towers over the four year old, a pale slender hand cupping, curling underneath her chin, "have we gone " astray?"
And that silken voice was from both Heaven and Hell "
The Gypsy known as Vera jerks awake finally, her head pounding, her mouth gone dry. It had been more than a dream that disturbed her, it had been a memory; a memory of when her whole life had changed and how it had morphed into a dream, a nightmare, and everything in-between. Sitting up she gasps a bit, hunched over now, her sheets a bedraggled mess around her. Shivering, she finally looks up towards the window, a frown furrowing her face, pulling her mouth into creases of contempt.
Why"
Why now the dream, the disharmony of her life playing out yet again? Why couldn't she have just stayed a normal peasant girl" And who in the hell was that " thing" This is what troubled the Gypsy the most " she had no recollection of meeting someone else that day when her father confronted her mother.
Getting up she stretched out before slinking towards her closet. Rummaging through she pulls loose a wooden box from a self. The box was simple save for the center which held a bright amber stone, glimmering even in the moonlight. There are a few items kept safe in this box but she pulls only one out, a worn scrap of cloth, black silk, now fraying at the ends.
"It's a present my heart, you should wear it today, it is special ?"
Running the silk through her fingers she muses on how it hasn't yet disintegrated, considering how old it truly was this bit of silk. "Present from you Rolando " or someone else?"
The memory still bothers "
http://i.imgur.com/y1MY0h1.jpg "Well hello mortal child ..."
Surrounding the porch was a network of roses, most of them known as peace roses, with a few lilacs, sweet peas, and poises buried among them. The roof gently slops down with the shingles a patchwork pattern of navy and royal purple. This was a home for refuge, a place of sanctuary to the few allowed within its walls.
It was calm, quiet, special and yet this is where the scene of turmoil takes place, on the second floor and if one had wings they could fly up and peer inside the window.
Moonlight pours within, casting shadows from its eerie light, dark figures that slither along walls and the floor. There is a bed set off into a corner of the room, conveniently facing the door. There a figure tosses and turns; legs shifting, flaring out, as though trying to kick something, someone away, her breath coming faster with her struggle. But she is alone in the room and lost to whatever haunts her.
" It was a bright sunny morning and Vera was out with her mother. Like something in a movie it seems as though everything zooms in on this tiny girl who looked to be only four years old. The girl is laughing but the sound is muffled though one can clearly see her looking up, tugging on the hand she is holding. Vera had been dressed in plain homespun skirts and a blouse, drab colors of brown and gray. Her mother that morning had braided her hair which hangs down her back with a black bow of silk. Normally it would have been a bit a yarn but Vera had been told it was a special present. The silk of that single scrap of cloth costs far more than the clothes the child was wearing but young Vera had no way of knowing this.
They reach the river and here Vera lets go of her mother's hand, rushing down towards the water. Here this motion picture of a dream zooms out and we see the woman. It may come as a bit of a shock that this was Vera's mother.
She was a beautiful woman of coffee colored skin, long black hair, and warm brown eyes. She looked absolutely nothing like her daughter whose skin was pale during winter months, whose hair bleached nearly blonde in the sun, and sported a pair of startling amber eyes.
Still the four year old was obviously concerned with none of this and why should she be? Her life, while that of a simple Romany peasant, was a good one for her. The child had already kicked off her shoes and had pulled off her wool stockings to better play in the water. The woman keeps a careful eye on the child while she gathers water for the day but for some reason she keeps glancing over her shoulder, fear clearly written on that pretty face.
Suddenly everything can clearly be heard, from the sound of the Danube River rushing over rocks, to the birds cawing in the trees.
"Vera, come help me, we need to go love."
"Yes Mama," came the sweet voice of Vera, already pulling on her worn shoes but leaving off her stockings. It was an unusual hot day in this part of Romania. Vera tucked away the stockings into a pocket of her skirt. Running over she grabs a clay jar and dips it down into the water, humming to herself a lullaby her father sang to her when he had put her to sleep that following night.
Soon enough the sounds of galloping horse riders take over everything else, leaving both woman and child looking up in surprise at the intrusion. Once again we see fear come across the woman's face, a clay jar slipping from her fingers to only shatter on the ground, water spilling everywhere and turning the ground into mud.
"Vera, come here, come here now!"
Swallowing roughly against a throat suddenly growing dry with anxiety Vera toddles closer to her mother, pulling on her skirts to all but hide herself in them. There on the ridge sits a man on his horse, staring them down.
A man with tawny hair and strange, amber eyes "
There was another man with the first who stayed off in the background of the woods but he could hardly be seen and it looked to Vera as though shadows covered his entire figure, leaving nothing but his silhouette on his horse. It was like looking through a glass darkly, something murky and terrifying " at least to a child of four.
Vera suddenly crossed herself, whispering, "He is the devil Mama, we should run, run before he takes us to hell."
"Hush Vera, child, it will be all right."
"But Mama ?"
"Hush!"
"Lia " Lia I think it's time she knows ?" Said the man with amber eyes, leading his horse down towards the woman.
"Lia please, I have rights you know, just because you married that peasant ?"
"Only because you were already married " Rolando. And that peasant is her father, you should be aware of that."
Trembling Lia hugs Vera closer to her, her arm held possessively around the girl. Rolando scoffs, dropping gracefully down from his horse. Pausing he looks up to the still figure of the other man, minutely nodding his head. It must have been a signal of sorts for the other rider soon leaves, making Vera much more comfortable. That man was surely Diablo, she could feel it! But she was perplexed by the two adults, her eyes darting back and forth while they continued to argue.
"I am her father!" Rolando finally shouts but thankfully in English, leaving Vera even more confused and intrigued. She had never heard that language before, her mouth forming a perfect "o' of surprise.
Looking around Lia finally lets go of Vera, stepping towards Rolando to firmly slap him across the face.
"I don't care if you throw us off your lands, you have no right! No right at all trying to take my child, a child you helped conceive in sin! You are a married man but did that stop you? No! I was a good Catholic girl, I believed it when you said you loved me but when I was pregnant you proved your worth to me!" She spat on the ground near his feet, her dark eyes hot and angry, "You left me to go back to your wife! I was lucky to find a good man who loves both me and my child! I am pregnant again and God so help me, if you cause to me miscarry over this Rolando I will curse you!"
Rolando took several steps back, holding a hand to his face, his eyes narrowing down on her. "Lia " I know I was wrong, I was a young man, and I did love you. Wait, look " please listen to me. I know I have made some mistakes but please let me know my child ?"
"Ha! From what I understand from talk in the village you and your wife have had other children. Leave me, mine!"
The argument continues on in this language she doesn't understand and thus, left to her own devices she decides to go down back to the water. Kicking off her shoes and hiking up her skirts she begins to play, laughing and gurgling to herself the way children do when left to their own imagination. Bending down she picks up a rock and skips it over the river. Of course it is a river and is soon swallowed up but this doesn't stop the child.
Looking over her shoulder, Vera chews her bottom lip. It would be bad of her to venture further on, to go deeper into the woods. She knows she may get in trouble but "
Something was calling to her. Like a whisper on the wind, pulling at her the way the moon does to tides. It was inevitable that when given the chance Vera was going to go and explore. She was four years old, it is after all what they do best.
Soon we seen her traveling by the edge of the river, moving into the woods, where the sound of " bells" A flute"
Maybe more like the wind chimes one hears from a neighbor's porch; the sound went whistling through the forest, beckoning to the child. Venturing further in and abandoning the Danube Vera soon enough comes across " a woman' She wasn't sure, tilting her head and looking over the figure. They were tall (at least from a child's view) lithe in frame with long, long black hair. The face was pretty, very pretty or so Vera thought, smiling to herself now.
"Hallo, are you the one making music?"
"Well hello mortal child," suddenly this figure towers over the four year old, a pale slender hand cupping, curling underneath her chin, "have we gone " astray?"
And that silken voice was from both Heaven and Hell "
The Gypsy known as Vera jerks awake finally, her head pounding, her mouth gone dry. It had been more than a dream that disturbed her, it had been a memory; a memory of when her whole life had changed and how it had morphed into a dream, a nightmare, and everything in-between. Sitting up she gasps a bit, hunched over now, her sheets a bedraggled mess around her. Shivering, she finally looks up towards the window, a frown furrowing her face, pulling her mouth into creases of contempt.
Why"
Why now the dream, the disharmony of her life playing out yet again? Why couldn't she have just stayed a normal peasant girl" And who in the hell was that " thing" This is what troubled the Gypsy the most " she had no recollection of meeting someone else that day when her father confronted her mother.
Getting up she stretched out before slinking towards her closet. Rummaging through she pulls loose a wooden box from a self. The box was simple save for the center which held a bright amber stone, glimmering even in the moonlight. There are a few items kept safe in this box but she pulls only one out, a worn scrap of cloth, black silk, now fraying at the ends.
"It's a present my heart, you should wear it today, it is special ?"
Running the silk through her fingers she muses on how it hasn't yet disintegrated, considering how old it truly was this bit of silk. "Present from you Rolando " or someone else?"
The memory still bothers "
http://i.imgur.com/y1MY0h1.jpg "Well hello mortal child ..."