I stepped out of my nightdress and hastily pulled on my clothes. Slinging my wool shawl around my shoulders, I forced my long, brown toes into ankle-high boots, reached for the milk pail, and tip-toed a few steps to the back door where I eased myself out quietly.
It was early autumn, my favorite time of year. I paused, letting the brisk air fill my lungs before stepping down unto the dirt yard, pebbles crunching under my feet as I tread the path behind our shanty. A shrill call broke through the silent air, startling me. A flock of birds was flying toward the mountain…the mountain in the distance. If only I were flying alongside them!
I continued further down the path to where a few small boulders formed a natural circle around a sparsely laden tree I had designated as my own. It was here that I watched the sun rise over that majestic mountain each morning, gazing ahead until its outline slowly appeared against the pink-streaked horizon. I arched my back and stretched my arms upward as was my morning ritual, but lately my clothing had begun restricting that simple movement.
I was a late-bloomer, according to Mum. She was pleased that my body was finally changing, but it was only making me more uncomfortable with each passing day. My waist was tiny, so I could still fasten my skirt, but it used to skim my ankles; now, it barely covered my calves. I had even cut the feet off my tights to yank them up the legs that overnight had sprouted.
My breasts, however, were the real problem. Swollen and tender most of the time, the spaces between my buttons were getting wider. The few pieces of clothing I owned needed replacing, and soon. I just didn’t know where they were going to come from.
Old rooster finally let loose his morning call, jerking me back from my daydream. It’s going to be a beautiful day, I decided, a tingle racing up my spine.
***
We lived in the kingdom of Maurania, a tiny, yet wealthy country made up of a lush, mountainous region surrounded by a semi-arid, flat expanse of land, made up chiefly of rocks and dry brush. It was known simply as the flatlands.
The kingdom was divided into distinct groups…the monarchy, the aristocracy, the merchants and us, the underclass or laborers. The monarchy occupied a castle on the peak of the mountain, the aristocracy lived at various points around it, and the merchants mostly inhabited its lower levels to be near their shops in the town on the flatlands.
Maurainia’s main thoroughfare started at the castle, curved down the mountain and made its way through a dense forest before settling onto the plain of the flatlands and winding its way around the main town and eventually to the outskirts where it ended abruptly. At that point, narrow, dusty tracks took over if one was going further on into Shanty Row. We, the laborers, constituted the majority of the population, but were relegated to Shanty Row.
It was against the law for us to be educated, but every day my two brothers left home in the morning and returned in the late afternoon with books and writing tablets hidden under their heavy clothing. Girls weren’t usually taught anything outside of the home, but I was fascinated with books. And, whatever my brothers learned, they shared with me, and to everyone’s surprise, I caught on quickly, more quickly than they did sometimes. Most nights after supper would find us huddled around the table, reading and writing in the dim light of a candle, and if my day hadn’t been too tiring, I’d keep reading long into the night.
Other nights, I'd sing. Papa would accompany me on his violin and my three little sisters would dance while Mum clapped to the beat.
***
Today was the sixteenth birthday of Liana, Crown Princess of Maurainia, and it had been declared a day of celebration. At her birth, there had been a royal procession through town, but since then, her mother, Queen Isadora, had died and His Imperial Majesty, the King, had ceased all birthday celebrations for his daughter. For reasons known only to him, however, he’d chosen to mark this particular birthday, and it was the first time I would be able to see her.
And it was for this reason that I could hardly contain myself this morning.
“My, my, look who’s awake already!” Mum exclaimed, tucking a loose strand of hair into her bun. “I wonder why our girl is up so early, Papa!” she teased. “Happy birthday, dear,” she said, opening her arms to me.
I set the pail on the floor, chewed on a fingernail and walked towards her.
“Jade, I know you’re excited, but it’s high time you stopped that,” she scolded, pulling my finger out of my mouth. “You’re sixteen years old today…practically grown!”
“Oh Mum,” I pressed my cheek against hers and whispered. “We have the same birthday…and I can’t wait to see her!”
Papa, a tall, lean man, turned to me. “Look how you’re shooting up so!” he declared, gathering me in his arms. “My little bud is blossoming into a rose.” He released his hold and cupped my face in his large, calloused hands.
I studied his face. It was a face that I had long admired, and over the past year, its subtle change hadn’t escaped my notice. But, this morning, it was more obvious than ever. His bright eyes were bloodshot and had sunken into his once strong features, now softened; his smooth, dark face had become lined and taken on a slight ashen tinge. Once a strapping, powerful man, he was suddenly looking frail. Years of wielding a pickaxe in the coal mines had taken their toll. Most worrisome of all was a cough that wouldn’t go away.
He just needs some rest.
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It was early autumn, my favorite time of year. I paused, letting the brisk air fill my lungs before stepping down unto the dirt yard, pebbles crunching under my feet as I tread the path behind our shanty. A shrill call broke through the silent air, startling me. A flock of birds was flying toward the mountain…the mountain in the distance. If only I were flying alongside them!
I continued further down the path to where a few small boulders formed a natural circle around a sparsely laden tree I had designated as my own. It was here that I watched the sun rise over that majestic mountain each morning, gazing ahead until its outline slowly appeared against the pink-streaked horizon. I arched my back and stretched my arms upward as was my morning ritual, but lately my clothing had begun restricting that simple movement.
I was a late-bloomer, according to Mum. She was pleased that my body was finally changing, but it was only making me more uncomfortable with each passing day. My waist was tiny, so I could still fasten my skirt, but it used to skim my ankles; now, it barely covered my calves. I had even cut the feet off my tights to yank them up the legs that overnight had sprouted.
My breasts, however, were the real problem. Swollen and tender most of the time, the spaces between my buttons were getting wider. The few pieces of clothing I owned needed replacing, and soon. I just didn’t know where they were going to come from.
Old rooster finally let loose his morning call, jerking me back from my daydream. It’s going to be a beautiful day, I decided, a tingle racing up my spine.
***
We lived in the kingdom of Maurania, a tiny, yet wealthy country made up of a lush, mountainous region surrounded by a semi-arid, flat expanse of land, made up chiefly of rocks and dry brush. It was known simply as the flatlands.
The kingdom was divided into distinct groups…the monarchy, the aristocracy, the merchants and us, the underclass or laborers. The monarchy occupied a castle on the peak of the mountain, the aristocracy lived at various points around it, and the merchants mostly inhabited its lower levels to be near their shops in the town on the flatlands.
Maurainia’s main thoroughfare started at the castle, curved down the mountain and made its way through a dense forest before settling onto the plain of the flatlands and winding its way around the main town and eventually to the outskirts where it ended abruptly. At that point, narrow, dusty tracks took over if one was going further on into Shanty Row. We, the laborers, constituted the majority of the population, but were relegated to Shanty Row.
It was against the law for us to be educated, but every day my two brothers left home in the morning and returned in the late afternoon with books and writing tablets hidden under their heavy clothing. Girls weren’t usually taught anything outside of the home, but I was fascinated with books. And, whatever my brothers learned, they shared with me, and to everyone’s surprise, I caught on quickly, more quickly than they did sometimes. Most nights after supper would find us huddled around the table, reading and writing in the dim light of a candle, and if my day hadn’t been too tiring, I’d keep reading long into the night.
Other nights, I'd sing. Papa would accompany me on his violin and my three little sisters would dance while Mum clapped to the beat.
***
Today was the sixteenth birthday of Liana, Crown Princess of Maurainia, and it had been declared a day of celebration. At her birth, there had been a royal procession through town, but since then, her mother, Queen Isadora, had died and His Imperial Majesty, the King, had ceased all birthday celebrations for his daughter. For reasons known only to him, however, he’d chosen to mark this particular birthday, and it was the first time I would be able to see her.
And it was for this reason that I could hardly contain myself this morning.
“My, my, look who’s awake already!” Mum exclaimed, tucking a loose strand of hair into her bun. “I wonder why our girl is up so early, Papa!” she teased. “Happy birthday, dear,” she said, opening her arms to me.
I set the pail on the floor, chewed on a fingernail and walked towards her.
“Jade, I know you’re excited, but it’s high time you stopped that,” she scolded, pulling my finger out of my mouth. “You’re sixteen years old today…practically grown!”
“Oh Mum,” I pressed my cheek against hers and whispered. “We have the same birthday…and I can’t wait to see her!”
Papa, a tall, lean man, turned to me. “Look how you’re shooting up so!” he declared, gathering me in his arms. “My little bud is blossoming into a rose.” He released his hold and cupped my face in his large, calloused hands.
I studied his face. It was a face that I had long admired, and over the past year, its subtle change hadn’t escaped my notice. But, this morning, it was more obvious than ever. His bright eyes were bloodshot and had sunken into his once strong features, now softened; his smooth, dark face had become lined and taken on a slight ashen tinge. Once a strapping, powerful man, he was suddenly looking frail. Years of wielding a pickaxe in the coal mines had taken their toll. Most worrisome of all was a cough that wouldn’t go away.
He just needs some rest.
Please click here to vote for me!