Trist of a Tale

The light gently showed through the rust-colored leaves above my head, the crisp wind flinging the loose leaves into the air and out of view. I could hear the other children laughing in the background along with Durn’s hammer striking an iron tool of some sort, driving his hammer rhythmically onto the metal, sharply ringing through the air. Although I should be brushing out the horses’ manes, the breeze called to me, and before I knew it I was resting beneath the big oak by Marion’s place. My eyes grew ever heavier and I felt my view of the sky disappear under my eyelids.

I jolt awake to the sound of screaming coming from Marion’s place and the sky was now a deep shade of scarlet. I leaped up and ran to the back door of Marion’s home, grabbing hold of the handle. Suddenly my feet find no land to stand on and I desperately have to cling to the door as a crevasse had formed beneath me and into where Marion’s kitchen would be. I kick off the wooden frame and land on the other side, only to hear her screams echoing from her room upstairs as I circle back around the house to the large oak and begin to climb. As I reach the top and leap safely onto the rooftop I glance about and notice a figure on horseback in the distance, his shadowy silhouette made black by the setting sun laid out behind him, giving a soft red glow to the edges of his form. I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel his eyes on me. He looked to be moving his horse along in my direction when a raincloud appeared above me and started to pour like a waterfall.

“Wake up you lay about!”

Mother griped as she finished dumping what looked to be a recently full water bucket onto me.

“I was having an insane dream!”

I sputtered as I stumbled into a standing position. I look up at her and see she is holding my horse brush in one hand and her other is on her waist. She takes me by my soaked collar and leads me towards the stables across the village. While being half dragged and half walked I notice that Durn’s usual hammer sound has gone silent. Towards the center of the village, there was a crowd beginning to form. As we neared the commotion I saw that a crack had formed along the ground and was causing the village well to buckle to one side. Marion was there looked stunned and silent for once with concern on her face and Durn was standing in his welding apron, hammer in hand looking puzzled.

“Mother! Something like that happened in my dream!”

I cried out as we walked past the scene. She turned to look down at me with worry in her eyes.

“Trist darling, there was a distressed-looking crowd of people in front of an old broken well? That sounds like the most boring dream I’ve heard of in a while.”

I groan and look back at the crowd only to notice a hooded girl that I had never seen before looking at the crack in the well, not with concern but a hint of curiosity. She looked up at me with a jolt and her eyes stunned me, a left eye of blue and a right of violet, both staring not just at me but through me. We seemed to stare at each other for hours before I realized we had reached the stables. My mother handed me the brush by shoving it into my chest, which helps break my concentration.

“Get your one job done before supper or else your food will be gone.”

She flicked her hair as she left back towards our house but my mind was elsewhere. Who was that? Why did she have different colored eyes? Why was she staring at me? As these thoughts raced through my mind I received a light tap on my shoulder. I spun around with a thousand questions for that girl but was instead greeted by Marion’s warm smile and brown eyes.

“Hey there Trist! You see the old well break? I heard Durn’s great-great-great-grandfather made it for us a long time ago. Do you think Durn will be able to repair that old well? I don’t even want to think about what would happen if we couldn’t get any water!...”

Marion’s incessant talking normally bothered the other kids when we were growing up, but it always gave me some excellent background noise and helped keep me from boredom. Luckily her blabbering helped me dismiss the incident with that mysterious girl and my terrifying dream enough to even get my workload done in time for supper. Once I had arrived at my home I said goodbye to Marion who smiled and skipped back in the direction of her own home over by the tall oak tree. I began to ponder what Mother made for supper, maybe it was just our normal bread and vegetables. I hoped it was stew, I loved her stew. I smile to myself at the thought of the warm food as I open the front door. Just across the room, sitting in my seat with my mother, having what looked to be a pleasant chat, was the girl from before. Hood down now, the girl’s medium length blonde locks frame her head loosely and a friendly smile is worn on her face. My legs freeze up and I stand there shocked in the doorway with my mouth wide open.