There I was, just standing there, when what I wanted to do was forbidden.
I was the one he'd trained, that he'd trusted. I had made a promise. Following the death of my mother in the second Pit Fall, Donja had taken me in. He taught me how the setting of wards and which shapes were best for protection. When I'd wake, sweat-drenched and shaking, he'd come and sing. His raspy voice would drift through the room. Songs of magical weavers and dancing bears would carry me softly back to sleep. Sometimes, when he was too tired to think clearly, he'd tell stories of the Make, that power that was stricken from our history.
Donja could have picked anyone else. They didn't have to be orphans. Every four years, a new child was chosen. Children didn't have the power to open the portal or any of the items in the gatehouse. The Doorway simply needed a watcher. Someone to light the fire and warn the village if its cracks were to widen. It wasn't difficult, meals were provided and there were toys to play with, books to read, and movies to watch. The Cloaks, the soldiers that patrolled the gatehouse, would occasionally stop by a window for a chat. Visitors were allowed, provided that they didn't enter and I never left. The village had done everything possible to make the watcher's lives comfortable.
But, I was still lonely. And I couldn't hear Donja sing from under the window where I slept.
“She may be young, but she is not stupid”, I'd heard Donja tell the short Cloak, Martin. “Don't patronize her and don't let the other children dance in front of her windows." His weathered hand rubbed the back of his neck. "It's going to drive her crazy not to be able to come outside so don't let them tease her."
Martin had glanced up to see me peeking through the window. I wanted to hide. If I had to be here for four years then I didn't want the Cloak to see me as a snoop. I didn't. I stared back at him and gave a wave and a smile. Donja's first lesson: Don't let them see you rattled.
He stared for a moment, then chuffed. "If it was going to be so hard on her, why did you fight for her to be a watcher?" He had put his arm around Donja's shoulders and steered him towards the village, and away from my window. "Let's you and I go have a drink."
I liked Martin, he'd leave me pictures with my breakfast. Every morning, since the beginning, there'd be a little doodle tied to my fork. Sometimes a sketch of the gatehouse, sometimes a picture of a cupcake, and once, a drawing of who he said was his friend, picking his nose. I saved them all. I liked to make stories using the pictures. They made me happy and filled my time.
Martin would be mad if he knew what I was about to do. He was a Cloak. I knew what would happen if the Doorway opened, but what about the gatehouse relics? What if he knew I could open some of them? What if he knew...
It was raining on the day I loaned Morgan 400 bucks. He'd come to the window, for the first time in months, and told me that his sister was getting married. Morgan and his sister were orphaned from the first Pit Fall, and he'd been relieved when he wasn't chosen to live in the gatehouse. He needed the money to pay for their move to the next village after the ceremony.
I'd given him the money, with the promise that he'd bring back things that I had needed. I wanted herbs, sand from the lakeshore, a picture of myself, and a stuffed animal, something cute and fluffy. He had to promise not to tell anyone, especially Donja. He started making jokes about the toy until I told him it was just a place to hide my items.
Martin was suspicious, especially once he counted the money. He wanted to know what sort of stuffed animal I thought cost 400 dollars. Once he heard of Morgan's sister though, he let it drop. I was grateful. I didn't want to lie to him more than I had to.
It took Morgan two days to return with what I wanted, what I needed. A stuffed bunny, softer than a cloud, filled with everything I needed to perform a Make.
So, there I was, ready to do something forbidden.
My Recent Freewrites
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