Found Family

A young woman bends over the stove, stirring a huge pot of food. There's several rows of pie pans on the table behind her, empty crusts waiting to be filled. A bowl contains more crust waiting to top the pies. She glances at the simmering pot again, wiping the flour off her hands with a towel. She brushes her bangs back from her face, the flour left on her fingers mixing with her light brown hair and the faded purple dye she'd added to the tips of it. She glanced out the window and smiled. People would be arriving any minute. She frowned, glancing at the clock. Some of them should have already been here. The door banged open and she smiled. Ah, there they were.

Two more young women and a young man all trooped into room, dropping their things by the door and near furniture. 

"Hi Mom," the young man said, coming over to give her a hug. "Food looks good."

"Hi," she squeezed him tight and then let him go. "When Cody gets here, I need you two to go get some things from the cellar for me."

"Just send me with him," one of the girls came over and gave her a hug. "I'm just as capable as Cody."

"Fair point," the mother sighed and then laughed. "Alright, then. I need some apples."

"I'll go with them," the second girl followed them out the door.

"Thank you dear," the girl laughed and shooed them all out the door. "Hurry please, I need them for dessert. I need to get these pies all in."

"Yes mother," the first girl called back behind her. 

More people came in through the door. "Hello little sister," one only barely older man came in with another one. He gave her a hug and she rested her head on his chest for a moment. "How are you faring?"

"Pretty good," she looked up at him and smiled. "I do need help though."

"Anything for you, Rebecca," he smiled and helped her ladle the soup off the stove into the pie crusts. 

The other young man had already pushed up his sleeves and was at the sink, washing up dishes. Rebecca snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He threw a disgruntled look over his shoulder at her and she laughed. "Thanks for the help. How's it going?"

"I'm less dead today," he shrugged.

She took a step back and appraised him. "You look a little less dead today."

"Mom!" Three young men burst in the door and one attacked her, pulling her into a tight hug. The other two waited their turn like sane human beings.

"Boy children," she laughed. "Clean up and then go check on your siblings and make sure the apples are coming."

They rolled their eyes at her and then obeyed. 

"They're a little more accepting of chores then they were last week," the man at the sink commented.

"I'm feeding them, Chris," Rebecca said dryly. "They will respect my rules cause they want the food."

"Ah," he nodded. 

"What do you want me to do with these pies, Becky?" the man with the ladle asked. 

"Help me cover them and get them in the oven," she said, turning back to the task at hand. "And then I need help cutting apples, if you don't mind, Hector."

"Not a problem," he nodded. "How was your day, Becky?"

"It was good!" she smiled. "I got a lot done."

"Writing?"

"On the desk," she nodded. Both men glanced over at the desk to see a thick stack of pages sitting neatly in the middle of the desk.

"Becky," one word was all Chris needed.

"They're single-sided?" she said helpfully.

"Still," Chris shook his head at her. "You need to calm down. Stop worrying so much."

"I'm not worrying!" she protested. 

"Uh-huh," he grunted, unimpressed.

The young people all burst on the room all at once, carrying many baskets of apples. The rest of Rebecca's scolding was lost in the mayhem of giving people work today. From the outside, the family almost looked normal, with parents and siblings. But when you looked a little closer, you realized that the young lady being called Mom was one of the youngest people in the room, and the young man being called Dad was, for all intents and purposes, her brother. The age gap didn't make sense, but the functionality did. Becky quietly circled the room, laughing and watching people, making sure that no one was getting hurt while food was cooked and sharp knives were wielded. Quiet words made sure that conversations stayed on an even keel, and she laughed along as all of her boys did their utmost to concern her, Chris included. With Hector around, however, it was accepted that the chaos would be a little less than the norm.

The long table was set and full. Rebecca sat in the middle, Chris across from her, the both of them participating in all of the conversations at once and trying to keep an ear out for trouble. Rebecca's girls were scattered, although they would occasionally glance at each other, or make comments to each other all the time. At one point, Chris commented something and Rebecca just glanced at Nicole, who obligingly smacked him in the back of the head. Rebecca smiled at the look Chris gave her, completely unrepentant. Despite the chaos, or perhaps because of it, there was love at the table, and smiles on every face even as they groaned at something someone said. It was homey and comforting. Rebecca felt herself relaxing, and as all of her people left the table and just sat in the living room, swapping stories and talking, she curled up on the floor between Chris and Hector's chairs, near the fire. They had her stack of papers and were reading them and passing them between themselves. She knew they would probably go on a walk later to discuss the contents. Both boys had opinions and cared too much to simply let her get away with writing all day and not say a word.

The chaos wore down as the night got later and the fire died. People started getting tired and she started kicking people upstairs to bed, though they grumbled as they went. She could hear them talking above her head and carrying on upstairs, but she shrugged. There was only so much an adoptive mom could do when her children were older than her. Finally it was down to just her and her brothers, and she took one of the seats her girls had vacated. They had both given her hugs and Julia had given her a stern reminder to go to bed soon. Rebecca had just smiled. 

She stared at the fire and waited for them to say something, but they were quiet. She finally looked at them and Chris smiled. She bit her lip and huffed a laugh. Her smile was embarrassed. 

"You need to worry less," Chris reiterated. "It comes out on paper."

"I realize that," Rebecca folded her hands around her knee too keep them from fidgeting. "So?"

"So...I'm going to hijack the children in the morning and you're gonna sleep in," Chris said. "And then you're gonna go on a walk and get some writing done or some reading done and act like a normal human being so that you don't worry."

"See that doesn't work though," she sighed. "I'm not sure I trust you to take care of them either."

"I-want to take offense at that," Chris said slowly.

"But you won't cause you know I'm right," Rebecca shrugged. 

Another shrug from Chris, "Doesn't mean that I won't take offence to that."

Hector looked at the pair of them with a strange expression on his face, and shook his head slowly. "Okay, well. I think the both of you need sleep. Especially you," he looked pointedly at his sister. "So, lil' sis, it's time for bed."

"I love that you call me out when in fact he gets less sleep then I," Rebecca grumbled, standing up slowly.

"Ah yes, but I will grumble at him later," he shrugged. 

"Right, because neither of you can seem to rest until I am taken care of," she rolled her eyes and picked up the papers, gathering them from the scattered chaos beside Chris's chair.

They were silent and she looked at them pointedly. They laughed. She put the papers away and put them on the desk, closing it up and locking it. Then she went to the kitchen and started tidying up, putting away the dishes that had been left to dry. The boys watched her, and Chris sighed. 

They followed her into the area, and Hector got the jump on her, stealing the rag in her hand and wiping down the counters. Chris just leaned on a counter and watched quietly. When she'd run out of creative reasons to not go to bed, Rebecca went back to the fire and was going to stoke that too. Chris stopped her and took the poker out of her hand. Hector turned her around and pushed her toward the stairs. 

"Bed for you, miss," he said firmly. 

"You act like I'm not going to just go read in my room," she said obstinately.

"You could," he shrugged. "As long as you're in the process of resting."

She sighed and turned around, heading back toward the kitchen. 

Hector followed her half a step behind, and Rebecca sighed.

"What? I'm grabbing a candle!" she eyed her big brother, annoyed. "I am allowed to do that, yes?"

"I'm not stopping you," Hector crossed his arms and watched her.

"Uh-huh," she nodded and lit the candle. She crossed the room to the stairs, looking around one more time. She stopped at the bottom, set the candle down on the last stair, and hugged both of the boys. "G'night gents. Try to stay out of trouble, would you? And sleep soon. It's awfully hypocritical of you to send me to bed if you weren't planning on it yourselves."

They looked at each other and shrugged. She sighed. "There's extra blankets in the oak chest if the barn gets cold."

"Love you sis," Hector called up the stairs after quietly. 

"Ya ya," she threw over her shoulder with a laugh.  

A Castle In the Sea

 An island stood in the middle of the sea. There was no other land in sight from the edge of its shores.  The island was small, barely larger than the courtyard that stood in the middle of it. The courtyard was grown over and you can tell it had been in ruins for some time. Stone pillars lie scattered in pieces across parts of the courtyard. The old roof and the rest of the pillars fell into the sea long ago. The stone benches around the edges are weathered and unstable. The stone floor was cracked and the beautiful mosaic that used to cover the floor was faded and no longer easily discernable. The parts of pillars left still standing casted long shadows over the floor. The waves buffeted the abandoned island, crashing over the low foundation of the courtyard. One of the pillars gave up in the fight against them with a creak and a groan, falling backwards into the sea with a mighty boom. The waves swallowed it whole, greedily looking for more loose pieces in the crumbling ruins.  Soon there would be nothing left of what was once a magnificent castle. 

Before, long before, castle was a lovely, beautiful thing. It was a small castle, the kind that only fit on a small island, but it was full of light, love, and laughter. Royalty from nations surrounding would come to its halls to visit and make peace with each other. There were many weddings in its cathedral, many feasts in its great hall, and many dances in its ballroom. But rather than the throne room or the keep being the center of the island, the courtyard, with its massive stone pillars, elegant benches, and beautiful mosaic floor, was the heart of the castle. For it was there the royal family spent their time together, singing, dancing, reading, working, playing, and worshiping their heavenly father. Their peace and joy in the space radiated outward, with God and family at the core.

One day, however, a plague from the mainland reached the island, and before much could be done, the castle was attacked by a vile enemy, seeking the influential location. Within a month the royal family had either fled, died, or been killed. Their enemy attempted to take over the island, but without any peace and joy left, the world stopped visiting the island. In a fit of rage, the enemy went through, burning and looting the castle of anything and everything of value. Then, with nothing left, burned the castle to the ground, sailing off to infect brighter, kinder ports. The castle was in ruins then, and the first big storm sent a good deal of the outer buildings tumbling into the sea. 

Slowly, across the years, the island was claimed by the sea, until all that was left was the courtyard that had been the heart of the castle in days gone by. One by one, pillars were being claimed by a hungry ocean, one that had forgotten the ships that used to sail on it to see the people living there. The courtyard would continue to crack and to crumble until one day the island would be completely covered in water, and the sea would reclaim its territory, dragging it down to its depths. Until that day, however, the courtyard would stand alone in silence, bearing quiet homage to the people who had come before, and remembering the hope that once beamed from its shores.

Lone Wolf

             A black lone wolf sat in the middle of a clearing. It was burned by the last forest fire, and the ground was still a little warm in places, even though the fire had been gone a week. The rain had taken care of it before it had spread too far, but the water had made the ash and coals turn into a very deep dark black. The wolf’s pelt was streaked with the inky charcoal, and there were scars across his face, some new and barely scabbed over, but others old and worn into his face. His golden eyes were dark and hiding a lifetime of pain. His ribs showed through the thick fur of his pelt, and his tail curled around his paws protectively as he howled at the sky. Black shards of glass surrounded the wolf in a circle with him as the origin. His paws were cut and bleeding by the glass they were resting on.

Nevertheless, when a small brown wolf pup stumbles out of the burned forest limping and yipping, the wolf springs into action. He walks gingerly across the glass minefield, barking at the pup to keep her on the outside of the danger zone. He bends down and licks the burns and cuts on her sides and face. The freshest markings on her are not that different from the ones on him. She nudges his side and he growls at her. She tumbles backwards before coming back at planting herself in front of him, growling. His ears go up and he nods at her before walking away. He pauses at the edge of the clearing to wait for her to follow him. The pup bounds after him a few steps before stumbling and limping after him much slower.

He led her a mile away until he found a rock outcropping near a stand of oak trees. He growled at her to stay and left to go hunt for food. He went and checked for the pup’s family, but soon found that they had fled the fire, leaving her for dead.  He killed several rabbits, bringing them back to her. He knew it then, when she growled at him when he got back before playfully attacking him and nipping his ear, that he had found the beginnings of a pack and could not be a lone wolf any longer. The thought was confirmed when she curled up against his side that night, shuddering breaths shaking her frame.

That Awkward Moment When the Girl Who Says She Doesn't Write Poetry Writes a Poem

 Some days the ache is just stronger,
the pull a little tighter,
the strain a little harder.
Somedays it feels like
the cord
between you is stretching
so thin
it might just snap all together.
Some days are just hard.