Longing for the rain - an excerpt

Longing for the Rain – Copyright by Maharat Zahara

It was so cold, that morning. The sun shone brightly outside, but the great stone house took its time in getting warm. I curled myself in the reading chair, under the one beam of light that flooded the window at this hour, and I tried to keep as much of myself under the scant warmth as possible. It was not easy, to keep covered, without falling from the chair, and all the while keeping my book well under the light.

If I went outside, I'd surely feel warmer. The green hills looked inviting enough, out there beyond the tall, heavy wooden window, but I did not like the great outdoors. I felt safe in the library, among my father's belongings, the only part of his world that I shared. Ever since my brother had passed, I went out less and less often. ‘Melancholic’, they called me, and I cared not that they did, as long I was left alone

I think that by then I was already troubled by my future. Surely I was not truly reading the book which I held, I knew it by heart. I knew all my books by heart, for I was not allowed that many titles to choose from. My father had selected what was proper, and I, ever the good girl, read what he allowed me. Even for that I was thankful. Most girls my age could not decipher anything beyond their prayer books, and were lucky if they could sign their own names.

Yes, I think my mind was troubled. The subject of marriage kept coming up more and more, and as I was of age, my father received many offers. I guess I was luckier than most: my father was a Venetian exile, and he was no more interested in my local suitors than I was myself. He was waiting for a good, man, my father told me, and he had the perfect excuse in my alleged heartaches.

'Flora is melancholic', he answered. 'I would never press her to decide. She needs time.'

From time to time I would meet with one of those men, in the presence of my father, knowing full well he was a potential suitor – not that I was told – in meetings which never meant anything. The weeks would pass, the man would be forgotten, and my father, never questioned

That was, until the Venetian had appeared. I gathered little tidbits from this and that conversation, trying to understand what was different this time around. The man was stationed in the region, and he ranked high in the navy. His father was a powerful man, just as my father had once been. He needed to be married soon, that man, for his past was even sadder ours. The plague that had taken my brother away from me, had ravaged the man’s Venetian family. Once he had been only one of a dozen children, but now, he had gone from “spare” to heir within less than a year.

My father had been so careful with news, and he made sure that I knew that the pairing was desired by all. He spoke of my suitor with such enthusiasm that I almost said yes, then and there!

’I know you have your objections, but child, a match like this does not happen every day, and such an opportunity might not happen again. Forget about his family, and other things you might have been told, for they are not relevant. He is a good man, Flora, and I know him well. I’d want this match for you, even if his brothers were still alive, and Marco was not his father’s heir.’

Ever since, I thought of the mysterious suitor, the man that would change my life forever.

A good man.

An older man.

I did not let my hopes grow too high. These matches could always fall through, and it sometimes happened at the very last minute. It made no sense to make plans while knowing so little.

I think it was then I looked up from my book, to find my father standing by the door, regarding me with deep blue eyes, smiling, though he meant to chastise me.

“Hiding here again, little one?”

I smiled, lowering my head, “I am not needed anywhere else.”

“Oh, I know. Must you always be inside, Flora? You could take a walk in the fields, ride a little.”

“Mother does not approve of me riding alone.”

My father put up his hands, as we both knew that was not the reason. “You could walk, or take a servant with you.”

“I don’t want to, father.”

My dear father came closer, and I knew which subject he meant to approach, even before he spoke. “Flora, do you remember the match we spoke of, a few weeks ago?”

I nodded, hoping to hear more about ’the mystery man.’

“Marco is visiting us today.”

I almost fell from my chair. “All the more reason not to leave the house.”

How my father had laughed. “No. I want you to take one of your servants and leave. He does not need to see you today, at all.”

I dared not tell my father that I wished to see him. “Perhaps mother will wish for my help.”

He laughed again, obviously seeing through my sorry attempt at a ruse. “Let your wise father do the negotiating. You should meet this man him only when he has made a commitment. Now, I want you out of here!”

I never considered disobeying; I acquiesced with a smile, “I will tell mother I am leaving.”

I made to leave, and the expression I saw then on my father’s eyes, I could not understand ... It was as if he was sad and happy at the same time. Why was that? At that time, I did not fear for myself. I trusted my father implicitly, and I knew he would choose well, for me.

***


It was such a beautiful day, and I think I will remember it forever, for it was the last time I was alone in the hills. The green mantle extended as far as the eye could see, and it being early spring, the grass was covered in tiny wild flowers, red as blood.

The sun shone brightly, bringing out the colors in such a vivid manner which no painter could hope to capture. Only the faint clouds forming from afar marred the perfect setting, and I eyed the horizon with growing worry, and I think I wondered aloud.

“What is Marcella up to this time?”

My servant had deserted me again. She did it every single time, and that was one of the reasons I never accompanied her out. Ah, if my father knew…

My family took pride in its blood, a long line of seamen, who had made its fortune from trade even before the Venetian State had been founded. I could tell a storm was coming, and it mattered not one bit that I had never seen the blue waters myself. I considered leaving right then, instead of having my parents worry about me, but I checked that thought for it was not pious. Father would punish Marcella very harshly, if he knew that she wandered. It was only convenient for me to forget what he would think of me, that I helped her.

Marcella only came back when she could see the storm, and by then, it was too late. Rain was upon us before we could reach the ancient road.

Marcella’s face was flustered, her clothes crumpled, and she was already afraid. “I told you we should have stayed in the path.”

I shook my head, wiping the rain from my face, and I ranted. “Don’t be silly, we’d be stuck in the mud. The road is passable even when it rains hard. The old Romans built it that way.”

“What if someone sees us?”

I was at the end of my patience, for it was not my fault that we were in this mess, was it? “I am hoping someone does!”

Marcella started crying, “Your father is going to whip me for this.”

I was also afraid. It had been so long since I had last been punished for anything, and I feared my father’s displeasure above all. That fear was taking over now, when the muddying road and the worsening storm were no true worries in my mind. I allowed myself to stop, closing my eyes, smelling the wondrous, copious rain. The smell of rain hitting the earth was my favorite scent in the whole world.

Marcella seemed only now to understand the consequences of her actions, and she had become frantic. “He will never believe us!”

“Why did you have to be away for so long?”

Marcella eyed me with such disdain, “You would not understand.”

If Marcella’s wanderings should reach another’s ears, her own reputation should surely suffer. There was no telling that it would to mine, but surely, there would be no mystery man for me.

The rain intensified, and my mind fell again to practical things. Where would we find shelter were it to become necessary? The road was on open ground and we were subject to lightning strikes. I wondered where would my father first look for us were he to decide to venture out, and just to think of it … I was musing over all these things, when a carriage stopped beside us, coming rather out of nowhere.

A woman put her head to the window. “Look, two drowned kittens. Might the young ladies be lost?”

Marcella jumped at the opportunity without thinking. “Yes, my Lady, we are!”

I considered the dark clouds in the sky, and with a heavy heart, I asked for help, when it might just make matters worse. “Would the kind Lady be heading to the Great House’s direction?”

“Oh, we are going there. Please come up, we must continue. We don’t want to be stuck in the mud now, do we?”

I was so embarrassed! My wet clothes were staining the light colored cushions, ruining the woman’s carriage. It was only when we settled inside, that I saw him. A dark haired man regarded us from his seat, faintly amused by our presence. That was all I saw for I lowered my eyes immediately.

Shame or no shame, I was not the one to forget my manners. “Thank you for taking us. We are sorry for ruining your seats. ”

The woman was kind. Wet from the rain, we might have looked even younger than we were. “No problem, little kitten. We wanted to get those cushions replaced anyway.”

Was this a man and his wife? What business did they have with my father? I had forgotten everything about our conversation in the morning, and thinking backwards? It was best that way. Marcella chatted the entire way, as if she was the mistress, and the woman seemed entertained by her carefree manner. The man simply regarded us carefully, politely, as if he could not be bothered to speak.

I dared raise my eyes only once, and when I did, the dark haired man smiled, and he spoke so gently, “Don’t worry, you will be home soon.”


***

The carriage pulled before my house not too long after, and my father was there, ready it seemed for riding out. I could see the relief in his eyes, as I was helped down the steps. It lasted a few seconds, that relief, and then he got very angry.

“How could you be lost? This storm threatened for hours.”

It was true. “We were distracted, father.”

“Lucky you were found. Where have you been?”

“In the fields, father.”

My mother gave out a cry when she saw my state, and I knew that public embarrassment was surely to follow. “Baby girl! You are all wet! We must make you warm.”

I think I gave the visitors a backwards glance before my mother took me away, already drying my hair with her own mantle, but I am not sure.

My mother was upon me with every medicine and cure afterwards, and no amount of complaining would free me from the smelly, itchy concoctions, and asking all manner of uncomfortable questions. “So, what do you think of your suitor.”

“That was him?”

“Of course, little airhead. Who would venture out in such a storm without an appointment?”

“I did not look at him too much. He seemed … bothered.”

One of our servants jested, “Of course he did, you turned his carriage into a fish tank …”

I laughed so hard; I think I was nervous. “Is it certain?”

“You know not to hope. Your father wants this betrothal sealed, and you must make up your mind, for he might ask you about it.”

***

Make up my mind about what? What did I know of this mysterious man? As I laid in the dark, watching the shadows that formed in the room, I counted the patterns in the baldaquin, wishing I knew more. At the same time, I wanted for nothing to change, for my life to be this as always, peaceful, predictable.

I had almost fallen asleep when someone knocked on my door, and soon after, my father entered my room, something he almost never did these days. He sat carefully on the side of my bed, a little uneasy it seemed, and he took my hand in his, speaking the words I’d been warned to expect.

“Sweet child, you have an honorable suitor.”

I only smiled, and again my father seemed uneasy, and I did not know why it should be so!

“Marco wishes to hear from your lips that you are willing. If you say that you are, then it is a binding vow. It would look bad afterwards, were you to change your mind.”

I remained dutiful, and I truly did not know which answer was wanted. It did not occur to me that my actual opinion was being asked, for the idea seemed preposterous at the time. “Are you happy father?”

“I am very pleased with this suit, Flora. “

I don’t think I hesitated, once my father expressed his desire for the match. “I need to be dressed then …”

Again my father seemed uneasy, and I was getting worried about that. He smiled right then, and I was happier in an instant.

“Very well. Your mother will help you.”

***

I was hastily dressed, and once it was done, I did not think I looked my best, not at all. Downstairs, I could not raise her eyes to look at the man, though I could feel his gaze on me, regarding me intently.

“You are very beautiful, now that you are not wet.”

I blushed crimson and now I could certainly not speak. Tears welled in my eyes, such shame, that he had seen me in this sorry state! I wonder if he doubted my honor, and thought I took rides with men in their carriages every day. Yet, he was standing right there, asking for my hand.

If Marco could tell I was troubled, he paid no heed to it. “Flora, our families wish that I should take you in marriage. That has come to be my wish as well. I am here to inquire of yours.”

“I do that which my father thinks best, signore.” I saw his hand move, as if to touch me, but he seemed to think better of it.

“If that is your wish, Flora, then from this moment on, I will be your suitor, and if all things fall into place, one day you will be my wife.”

I was so confused! My body was reacting so strangely. I felt dizzy; his words went straight through my heart, like arrows. Somehow I found the strength to answer the man properly, “That would be my wish as well, signore.”

I could tell that he had smiled, not that I was looking, because I could not stare him in the eye. I was lucky my father entered the room, and for the second time today, I was being rescued.

My father’s voice was gentle but commanding. “Flora, you may retire now.”

“Goodbye signori,” I answered as I retreated, so hastily.

So I went back to my rooms, to remove all the clothing and ornaments I had worn for such a brief while, and I did not even ask for help. Back into my bed, I could not sleep; I was about to have a husband … and I did not know how to be a wife.

Frozen in My Mind (6-26-07)

They're there for some unknown reason,
I'm sure everyone has them.
Hell, maybe not.
Mere portions of a second,
That last a lifetime.
I feel small,
In their wake,
In intervals.
The Past,
The Present,
The Future,
All connected,
By the moving pictures,
That are my experiences.
They're pieces of my time,
Frozen in my mind,
Melting only when I see past them,
For what they have taught me.

In out

I press my face against the glass
I feel the coolness fade as my breath touches it.
In out in out in out in
I hold it this time wanting the last of the coolness to exist......out
I watch you walk down the street and my breath comes faster.
In out in out in out in out in
You catch me watching you. You stare at me.
I press first my hand, then body, then my mouth against the glass.....out
My skin has taken on a life of it's own.
The thought of you touching me has it breathing
In out in out in out in
You break our stare and begin to walk away again.
All I can do is watch you walk.......out

Where Are You, Superman? (6-19-07)

I look into the sky,
All I see,
Are Birds and Planes,
No Hero.
When are you going to use,
Your Super strength,
To Show us the way?
Use your heat vision,
To warm,
Our Chilled Uncaring Hearts.
Use your Cool Breath,
To put out all the fires,
Caused by all the Madmen.
Use your X-Ray Vision,
To see,
Into our Black souls,
Where you can fight the evil.
Use all of your Power,
To Save us,
From Ourselves.
Where Are You, Superman?
There is no Kryptonite here,
Except us.
I guess,
We have to Continue,
Without You,
Don’t we?
Perhaps,
We should become,
The Heroes,
We so Desperately Need.

Marooned

Marooned on the island of life.
I live day by day.
Passing the time with only my thoughts.
Ignoring the wonders around me.
Consumed by self.
The tragedies of the previous chapters,
Envelope my synapses.
Judgment isn’t clouded,
It’s just not there.
Feelings don’t get in the way,
They’re pushed to the side.
Sometimes, there’s a moment of clarity.
When a smile comes to my face.
I’m mimicking the little boy.
He’s my lifeline to another place.
Reality.
All I need is to feel his love,
To be jolted back.
I live day by day.
Marooned on the island of life.

Leaving on a Jet Plane..

Hey all my fellow and lovely writers, I'm taking the computer down today to be shipped to the states. I won't be back online for at least ten days.

Remember to add your screen name to the 'Labels' section for all posts. KEEP WRITING! I can't wait to read everything I've already missed (due to packing etc..) and everything I will miss in the coming weeks.

Also, while I'm away, you can plug wwht... as much as you'd like through your MySpace account. I'd appreciate it!!!


LOVE YOU ALL!! Thanks for being a part of wwht...!!!!

Forever your admin.,

Jill

untitled.

Love is not as uncommon as people want to believe. It doesn't always involve some elusive "one and only," or a soulmate. Love... well, love is something that can affect us on a daily basis. It's something intangible, an outmoded stigma. It's a primeval ideal, an ephemeral excuse to find meaning in this tragic world. You see, love can exist on so many different planes and levels. I can met someone and love them the instant I meet them, and then I could fall out of love with them just as quickly; or, it could take days, weeks, months, or years to love someone. What I mean is, there's no love more significant than any other. Love is love, it comes and goes. But what makes it appealing is the possibility that it remains, and that you can keep keep a consistent love with a consistent person forever, into the abyss of eternity. That's what is so appealing about love. Eternity. The possibility of forever.

Now some may say that there is always an end. True, there is an end to every relztionship. But love is not a relationship. It is a feeling, an emotion, a state of mind. See, relationships all end; we all die, our bodies rot. But the idea of love, the feeling of love - that can permeate throughout the universe for an eternity. That mad passion is like the light of the soul. Light never stops traveling, it bends around time and space, it's a constant, and it continues onward.

You know... you look up and see a star; in many instances, the star you see is simply light that was emitted thousands or millions of years prior. That star has a good chance of being dead. But, we still see that star, as radiant as ever, as beautiful as it was in its prime, because the light - its core - still permeates he empty crevasses of space. We still can see and feel its undeniable rapture.

And so is love....