916 Years Later: Chapter One :the Girl At St. Michaels

     This extensive story is the story of a man who faces loss, friendship, grief, love, and a gruesome murder. This are the accounts of my memories of a life over 900 years later. This is part one of this life, and I hope you enjoy it.

    I was a young man who had ended up in Germany. I was from Western Europe originally, but was forced from my home at a very young age. I do not remember much of my childhood. Many families had crossed Europe, each of them trying to find a new home. My family was traveling east, led by my father. My father was a tall man, very muscular, very broad in the shoulders. The stern look on his defined face never left, and the rugged black beard on his face was very unkempt, much like his dirty black rough cut-hair. I remember the powerful dark brown eyes he had, as his glare could humble almost any man. All I remember of my father was he had trained me to fight, to be a warrior. My father was a trained warrior, but I do not remember what his profession was. He trained me so I could protect what I cared about, like he did. My father would beat me mercilessly in sparring, as it was his way to toughen me. He had scarred my face, along my jaw, with the sheer force of his fist. He told me to remember that I got that scar, because an enemy will show me less mercy if I continued to be weak. Despite my father treating me the way he did, he loved me. He never uttered it, but he loved me, and wanted me to be an honorable man. My father grew weak and weary from travel, as we had traveled for years. When my father could not travel any longer, due to his health, my mother and I decided to stay in the small town near we buried my father. My mother and I moved into a meager abandoned shanty outside of the town. I did not like this new environment, nor did I enjoy being without my father. I was Catholic, or some form of it, and my mother told me to pray for the soul of my father every Sunday in the nearby cathedral in town. I did not truly grieve my father’s death, but more understood that it was now my responsibility to take care of my mother, and to be the man my father had tried to teach me to be. I don't remember much after that point, I would guess close to two or three years passed before I regained memory again.


     I was an outsider and an outcast in this community. I barely spoke the language, and if I did speak the words, they had a hard time understanding me. I often didn’t waste my time speaking to the people of this village, as they would ridicule me, or push me aside as if I was some sort of leper. This brought about frustration, in which I would curse the people around me under my breath. My Mother would look down on my behavior. My mother was a taller woman, with blonde hair and dark green eyes. She had kind features, and showed signs of age even at this time of my life. She often wore a light-hearted smile, but not when I would slander and curse in our native tongue. One day in particular, she told me to go confess my sins before a priest, as my father would have been shamed by my lowly behavior. I did as I was instructed by my mother, and traveled to the cathedral. This day in particular would shape my life forever. I was walking down the road to the cathedral, dressed as I usually was. I wore a faded grey baggy shirt, partially undone due to the heat of the sun. Dark brown pants, with a course leather belt, and pair of old patched leather boots, which belonged to my father. My long strawberry blonde hair was tied back to keep out of my eyes. I remember the sweat running down my face, falling into my short cut beard. I was a particularly tall man, a head taller than most people. I was muscular from frequent work in the field and house work, which was often the case with peasant men. I carried a sword, a short blade that hung casually from my belt, covered in a feint red cloth that wrapped around the hilt. This sword was a gift from my father, and I was never to part with it, not even when entering a house of God. Most people frowned at this, but I did not care about them, as they didn't care enough to stop me. I remember seeing a very young woman staring at me from one of the front windows. I could not make out the details of her face, but she seemed very interested in me, watching me until I entered the building. As I walked into the Cathedral, she was standing a short distance from my left. I felt her looking at me intently. It was quite obvious that she was reading me, as I could feel her eyes on me. I quick glanced at her, which almost shocked her to death. She looked me in the eyes, and I looked into her into her deep blue eyes. She averted her stare, and I walked towards the confessionals. As I was walking down the hall, I could hear the patter of light footsteps following me. I turned around, with the scowl I often had on my face. There was a young woman, maybe fourteen. Perhaps half my height, as I was a tall man. She had deep blue eyes, with very soft facial features. She wore dirty blonde hair, tied back, but partially down. Her dress was lighter brown, with something like a vest over it. It could be said she was obviously a woman, with features that would suggest she would soon marry. She was obviously a beautiful woman, it did not take much to observe as much, but I did not seek courtship or marriage, so I did not entertain such ideas. She seemed quite offset, almost taken back that I had noticed her. She panicked for a moment before pretending to do anything but follow me. I quietly scoffed as I turned around, heading towards the reason I had come to the cathedral. I entered the confessional, I had much to confess to, and so it took more time than I thought it might.


    After my extensive penance I walked out of the confessional, and again I saw the young woman. She stood exactly outside my confessional, still trying to remain subtle. She gave a slightly mischievous smile, but tried to cover it with an innocent look. I made eye contact with her again, but then soon left for the exit without saying a word. I was annoyed, but she didn’t seem to grasp such an idea. She followed me again, but the patter of feet was gone, and instead the sound of almost stomping footsteps followed me. She raised her voice, complaining that I did not even make notice of her, even though she waited for me to finish my extensive penance. I was shocked a woman would raise her voice in a church, even to an outcast like me. I turned around, again with a scowl. I told her it as childish for someone to follow another person to get their attention, the turned around to leave again. She didn't take my answer well. The young woman almost ran towards me and asked me if I thought she was a child. I kept walking. She exclaimed she is far from being a child, and I was impolite to say so. I slowly turned around again, as she stood directly in front of me. Her arms were on her hips. She was trying to make a statement. I looked down at her obviously distraught face. She looked up at an obviously annoyed man.  Her hands still on her hips, and her lip was sticking out ever so slightly, I could tell she was very offended by my comment. I apologized, I explained I did not understand why she was following me, and that I was shocked she had raised her voice. She raised her eyebrow slightly, almost if she strained to understand me. The young woman seemed to have gotten my message across, but didn't say anything. I told her I was not from around here or understand many of the customs. She gave me a dirty look, and said something about giants with red hair is not very common around those parts. I strained to understand everything she said, but I caught the sarcasm. I was confused at the notion of a woman using sarcasm; as such behavior was unbefitting of women then. She asked me if I was a warrior, and why I carried a blade on me even into church. I gave her a stern look, and did not respond. She waited in anticipation for an answer she wouldn’t get. I told her to be careful of attitude such as hers, gave a slight bow to signal a farewell, and started to walk away. She ran at me yet again, and asked me my name. I looked over my shoulder and told her my name, but I never asked for hers. I left, not knowing that my life changed forever.

Chapter Two
EP Link

deleted deleted
May 19, 2012