Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Half a dozen giggling, excited voices floated around her; each in a state of accelerated animation. Merrin sat amongst the commotion, as each maid took turns telling of one detail or another in relation to the ball. The words, "loveliest thing you've ever seen!", and, "simply beautiful", were repeated in regards to one thing or another: Lady Truth's dress, the draperies that were being finished for the occasion, the menu, the crystal punch bowl...
Merrin was finding it difficult to concentrate on any one of the voices, which had become nothing more than a high-pitched buzzing in her ears. Truthfully, she hadn't been listening to any of the conversation going on around her for the last half-hour. Her mind had been drifting somewhere between quiet familial conversations that had taken place behind nursery doors, and her own sadness that she would never be a part of them.
Eavesdropping was not something she was proud of doing, and she hadn't planned on committing the transgression. In that moment, however, with the challenge of a heavily closed door in front of her, her eagerness to know even the slightest detail of what was going on within the family suddenly became more important than whatever the consequences might have been. In that moment, she had felt oddly entitled; as if she had a right to know anything and everything that happened within these castle walls, as if her very existence demanded it. As if her birthright gave her an excuse to pry into others' private lives.
It was wrong, and she chastised herself because of it. She had come here with such hopes and silly infantile dreams of an awaiting family who would love her and take her into their home and their arms. In reality, she had come face to face with an almost mirror-image of what she had left: A broken family who's members had become brittle and cold, like a tree in Winter who's naked limbs lay scattered on the ground.
No, that wasn't an accurate description; there was Lady Truth, who bore her name honorably. If anything, she had become the roots in this family; the solitary support in this harsh, season. Where other members were withering and dying, Truth had found strength, and with her quiet spirit, she fought to extend that to the rest of her family. Even with the threat of a loveless marriage looming over her head, she kept going, kept serving, kept doing for others. She was the most selfless woman Merrin had ever known.
Merrin could only hope to one day be one tenth of the woman that Lady Truth had become, but she knew that would never happen if she continued with this guise. Every day that she lived under this roof made her deceit that much more wicked. She was torn between her own selfish need to know them; for them to know her, and what she knew in her heart was right. Hadn't they suffered enough heartache? What would her revelation do to their already beaten and battered spirits?
She was a foolish, selfish, silly girl; thinking that by coming here, she could repair her own heart, ease her own pain. Her rash behavior would only cause them more grief; but she already loved them too much to leave them. Julian, Beatrice, Joy, and *insert name*: Her family; so close, and yet so far. As long as she stayed here, she would be forced to watch them live from a distance.
It was a fitting penance for her own selfish sins.
Merrin was finding it difficult to concentrate on any one of the voices, which had become nothing more than a high-pitched buzzing in her ears. Truthfully, she hadn't been listening to any of the conversation going on around her for the last half-hour. Her mind had been drifting somewhere between quiet familial conversations that had taken place behind nursery doors, and her own sadness that she would never be a part of them.
Eavesdropping was not something she was proud of doing, and she hadn't planned on committing the transgression. In that moment, however, with the challenge of a heavily closed door in front of her, her eagerness to know even the slightest detail of what was going on within the family suddenly became more important than whatever the consequences might have been. In that moment, she had felt oddly entitled; as if she had a right to know anything and everything that happened within these castle walls, as if her very existence demanded it. As if her birthright gave her an excuse to pry into others' private lives.
It was wrong, and she chastised herself because of it. She had come here with such hopes and silly infantile dreams of an awaiting family who would love her and take her into their home and their arms. In reality, she had come face to face with an almost mirror-image of what she had left: A broken family who's members had become brittle and cold, like a tree in Winter who's naked limbs lay scattered on the ground.
No, that wasn't an accurate description; there was Lady Truth, who bore her name honorably. If anything, she had become the roots in this family; the solitary support in this harsh, season. Where other members were withering and dying, Truth had found strength, and with her quiet spirit, she fought to extend that to the rest of her family. Even with the threat of a loveless marriage looming over her head, she kept going, kept serving, kept doing for others. She was the most selfless woman Merrin had ever known.
Merrin could only hope to one day be one tenth of the woman that Lady Truth had become, but she knew that would never happen if she continued with this guise. Every day that she lived under this roof made her deceit that much more wicked. She was torn between her own selfish need to know them; for them to know her, and what she knew in her heart was right. Hadn't they suffered enough heartache? What would her revelation do to their already beaten and battered spirits?
She was a foolish, selfish, silly girl; thinking that by coming here, she could repair her own heart, ease her own pain. Her rash behavior would only cause them more grief; but she already loved them too much to leave them. Julian, Beatrice, Joy, and *insert name*: Her family; so close, and yet so far. As long as she stayed here, she would be forced to watch them live from a distance.
It was a fitting penance for her own selfish sins.
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