Arthur Daigle's Blog - Posts Tagged "stranger"
Another 500 Words
“Sleepy baby,” Grace said as she rocked her son. The baby yawned and fell into a deep slumber. Grace set the baby in his cradle and checked on her daughter Jenna. The little girl was napping on her tiny bed, giving Grace time to do work around her house. A mob of five gray cats waited until she’d left to cuddle up to the sleeping children.
One cat stayed by Grace as she cleaned the house. Grace smiled and stroked its back before she went outside and hung laundry to dry in the warm summer wind. The cat followed her and watched as if such a chore was interesting.
“You must have seen Esme do this,” she told the cat. It shrugged and headed for the nearby woods. The cat only went a few steps before stopping and turning to look west. Grace followed its gaze to see a man with a sword walking along the edge of the woods. “Hello there.”
The man locked his eyes on her. “Hello, pretty thing.”
Grace kept working while she watched the stranger. Young, strong, sort of handsome, worn clothes, she’d seen his kind many times before. “How long since you left the army?”
The man froze. “How did you…dumb question, I’ve got a sword.”
“And tattoos on your arm. Swords and axes, that’s Duke Kramer’s mark. Plenty of men have come this way after leaving his service. Where are you headed?”
The man’s eyes went from her toes to her head. “I haven’t decided. Not much to look forward to. Strange to see a pretty lady all alone.”
“My husband Roy is a woodcutter. He’s in the forest cutting timber to repair our baronet’s house.”
The stranger came a step closer. “So he won’t be back for a while.”
Grace hung up a threadbare sheet to dry. “Not for hours. You’ll like Roy. He used to be a soldier, too. He’s helped plenty of men settle down after leaving the army.”
“I don’t need help getting what I want.”
The cat walked over and rubbed against Grace’s ankles. The stranger frowned and pointed at the cat. “Is that a garnet in its collar?”
“No, a ruby.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s big. How did a woodcutter’s wife get a ruby?”
Grace laughed. “It’s not my ruby or my cat. Did you ever hear of Esme the sorceress?”
“Yeah, an old woman who brewed potions for old men.” He laughed. “I don’t need potions.”
“Esme passed away, and her cat brought her kittens to grow up in our house. Hmm, must have been six months ago.”
The stranger snapped his fingers. “I just remembered, she was called Always Fails Esme. Funny a witch who couldn’t get anything right would have a ruby. I’ll thank your husband for being so hospitable, letting me have a ruby and his wife.”
“Esme got some things right,” Grace replied as the ruby flashed. In seconds the cat grew, twisted, warped and leaped twenty feet onto the man’s face.
One cat stayed by Grace as she cleaned the house. Grace smiled and stroked its back before she went outside and hung laundry to dry in the warm summer wind. The cat followed her and watched as if such a chore was interesting.
“You must have seen Esme do this,” she told the cat. It shrugged and headed for the nearby woods. The cat only went a few steps before stopping and turning to look west. Grace followed its gaze to see a man with a sword walking along the edge of the woods. “Hello there.”
The man locked his eyes on her. “Hello, pretty thing.”
Grace kept working while she watched the stranger. Young, strong, sort of handsome, worn clothes, she’d seen his kind many times before. “How long since you left the army?”
The man froze. “How did you…dumb question, I’ve got a sword.”
“And tattoos on your arm. Swords and axes, that’s Duke Kramer’s mark. Plenty of men have come this way after leaving his service. Where are you headed?”
The man’s eyes went from her toes to her head. “I haven’t decided. Not much to look forward to. Strange to see a pretty lady all alone.”
“My husband Roy is a woodcutter. He’s in the forest cutting timber to repair our baronet’s house.”
The stranger came a step closer. “So he won’t be back for a while.”
Grace hung up a threadbare sheet to dry. “Not for hours. You’ll like Roy. He used to be a soldier, too. He’s helped plenty of men settle down after leaving the army.”
“I don’t need help getting what I want.”
The cat walked over and rubbed against Grace’s ankles. The stranger frowned and pointed at the cat. “Is that a garnet in its collar?”
“No, a ruby.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s big. How did a woodcutter’s wife get a ruby?”
Grace laughed. “It’s not my ruby or my cat. Did you ever hear of Esme the sorceress?”
“Yeah, an old woman who brewed potions for old men.” He laughed. “I don’t need potions.”
“Esme passed away, and her cat brought her kittens to grow up in our house. Hmm, must have been six months ago.”
The stranger snapped his fingers. “I just remembered, she was called Always Fails Esme. Funny a witch who couldn’t get anything right would have a ruby. I’ll thank your husband for being so hospitable, letting me have a ruby and his wife.”
“Esme got some things right,” Grace replied as the ruby flashed. In seconds the cat grew, twisted, warped and leaped twenty feet onto the man’s face.
