A year went by, and old Dorie kept occupied caring for the elderly and homeless once gathered in the estate where she lived. Now they were gone. Over a year it took to find the families, find their way home or to rest eternal, each and every one. Except Dora.
Awake
It was the darkest hour of daylight, when open eyes see only shades of gray coloring visable objects. Soon enough the dawn would come across the landscape and sun shine right into her eyes. DoraBelle kept her eyes closed and fought the little voice which called her to the day's work.
"Awaken, potato. Come, roll out into the daytime and complain not."
"Begone!" The old woman flipped the end of her blanket at something indistinct, hovering at the edge of her consciousness. "It be not Day, yet. I will have me more sleep."
"Ooh. Do not dispair, poppet. Potato. There be change afoot, I swear. Things will be different, awake and see."
"Let me be." She wound the covers over her head, especially tight about the ears, to avoid the little voices, without offence. Who knew what these things were, talking to her.
"I will test you, see if you be done with sleep."
"Away with you."
A little chorus of laughter seeped in to were she heard and could not close it out.
"Potato...." The voice drawled along like a slow opening squeaky door hinge. "Pretty little bit. Awake; the time draws nigh for change. "
"Ha. Change me any older and I be dead; ready for them winding sheets and the grave."
"Naye. Not ending, but a change, a different thing begins. Time do be here."
"Tell her." One encouraged.
"Let her see for herself." The next snipped, but there was laughter in the tones of it, mocking lilting laughter.
"Time Potato. Stay you awrap in the blanket a bit more and you will not know."
Know? Know what? Dora flung the blanket off her face and sat up. tricked awake, once more. But it were a dream. None were present 'cept herself and a tad of light gold sun sifted in through the shutter latch space.
"Heh." She drew her shawl about her shoulders, on over the thin, worn night dress and sought the hearth, to russle up the fire and heat with that.
Little things of the night edge which spoke to her, went to their hiding now and kept their secrets, to taunt her another day. So it was, Dora lived along the ragged edge something that would scare the stouthearted and she worried not.
Awake
It was the darkest hour of daylight, when open eyes see only shades of gray coloring visable objects. Soon enough the dawn would come across the landscape and sun shine right into her eyes. DoraBelle kept her eyes closed and fought the little voice which called her to the day's work.
"Awaken, potato. Come, roll out into the daytime and complain not."
"Begone!" The old woman flipped the end of her blanket at something indistinct, hovering at the edge of her consciousness. "It be not Day, yet. I will have me more sleep."
"Ooh. Do not dispair, poppet. Potato. There be change afoot, I swear. Things will be different, awake and see."
"Let me be." She wound the covers over her head, especially tight about the ears, to avoid the little voices, without offence. Who knew what these things were, talking to her.
"I will test you, see if you be done with sleep."
"Away with you."
A little chorus of laughter seeped in to were she heard and could not close it out.
"Potato...." The voice drawled along like a slow opening squeaky door hinge. "Pretty little bit. Awake; the time draws nigh for change. "
"Ha. Change me any older and I be dead; ready for them winding sheets and the grave."
"Naye. Not ending, but a change, a different thing begins. Time do be here."
"Tell her." One encouraged.
"Let her see for herself." The next snipped, but there was laughter in the tones of it, mocking lilting laughter.
"Time Potato. Stay you awrap in the blanket a bit more and you will not know."
Know? Know what? Dora flung the blanket off her face and sat up. tricked awake, once more. But it were a dream. None were present 'cept herself and a tad of light gold sun sifted in through the shutter latch space.
"Heh." She drew her shawl about her shoulders, on over the thin, worn night dress and sought the hearth, to russle up the fire and heat with that.
Little things of the night edge which spoke to her, went to their hiding now and kept their secrets, to taunt her another day. So it was, Dora lived along the ragged edge something that would scare the stouthearted and she worried not.