Stormy Seas: Part 4

 I slowed my pace when the noise of the tavern was well behind me. My shipmates were rowdier folk on land than I had expected and I had barely escaped before being roped into a game of dice.

It felt much nicer out in the cool night air anyway. I wandered through the lamp light in the direction of the Lethargy and saw that someone had lit a single lamp on deck. I climbed up the gang plank and was stopped by a large shadowy figure standing in my way.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Oh, Eldon!” First mate Rhoden stepped out of the way and into the lamplight. “I wasn't expecting any crew back so early.” He was a tall, muscular man with very dark skin and spectacles.

“The tavern didn't interest me,” I told him.

“I never go there myself,” he said. “It's not really the place for a good Christian is it?”

I smiled inwardly, grateful that he was our First mate. “No sir,” I said.

“Have you written to your family yet?” he asked.

“I was just going to,” I started to say.

“Mr. Rhoden, Mr. Elderton!” Ameya was running down the dock toward the gang plank.

“Everyone's coming back early tonight,” Rhoden said.

“I saw you leaving Mr. Elderton,” Ameya puffed.

“Eldon,” I responded habitually.

“I thought I would come with you, yes?”

“We were going to write letters back home,” Rhoden said. “Do you have paper?”

“Yes, yes, I have nice paper to write to my girlfriend,” Ameya nodded. “You will write to girlfriend Mr. Elderton?”

“Uh, no. To my mother,” I explained.

“Oh,” he said thoughtfully. “Not writing to girlfriend?”

“Momma's the only girl for Eldon,” First Mate Rhoden guffawed. He swiped the hat off my head and ruffled my hair.

Ameya joined in with a wheezy sort of laugh.

I snatched my hat back from Rhoden and yanked it down over my ears defiantly.

“Alright, lets leave Eldon alone,” Rhoden said. He lifted my hat off again and plopped it down in the proper place. “We should write to our mothers too.”

I hopped down the open hatch and into the dark hold. I knew my way around here even in the dark. I found the handle to the first crew cabin door and felt my way down the hallway until I found my cabin. Inside I reached up into the cup shaped shelf above my bunk and took out a box of matches. I lit one and used it to light the lamp hanging from the ceiling. The light from it shined down on the cozy little cabin I shared with Ray.

Both bunks were set into the wall with wooden cupboard doors that we could close to keep us in bed in case the seas were rough. Both were folded open now to show our neatly made beds with the CTC seal stamped across the blankets. On the opposite wall were lines of drawers and cupboards for our belongings.

I opened one drawer and took out my writing set. It was a medium sized wooden box that would open and fold over to make itself into a little desk. I moved my pillow out of the way and crawled into my bunk, setting down the writing box in place of the pillow. I stared at the paper and wondered where I should begin.

There was a knock on the open door and I looked up to see Ameya standing in the doorway with his own writing set. “I come share light with you?” he smiled.

“Sure, have a seat,” I said politely.

“Thank you.” He sat down on the floor, since there were no seats, and opened his writing box.

I turned back to my letter.

“This is girlfriend,” he said. I looked over and saw him holding up a photo of a Indian looking girl wearing a shirt that stopped above her waist and a ruffly European skirt. “She is very pretty, yes?”

I wasn't quite sure what to say. She looked immodest to me, but she had a shy, sweet look in her eyes and the tilt of her chin that made me believe she didn't mean to be. “She is pretty,” I said. “What's her name?”
He uttered a string of flowery sounds that I would never have been able to repeat.

“Ah,” I said. I turned back to my writing and left him to his.  

Words

Words do not come out of my mouth well.

You'd never guess right? I sound so intelligent in my blogs, right? Don't answer that.

You know those toys they used to make where you'd push a button or pull a string and it would have 4 or 5 sayings that it would loop? Sometimes I feel like one of those toys. My sayings are “Sorry” “Have a nice day” (only since I started working at the Phunny Pharm) “You're welcome” “How are you?” “Are you ok?” and “I dunno.” They come out as if I have a broken jaw and can't keep myself from drooling. So many times in a day I'll stop and think “Did I really just apologize for someone else tripping on something?” or “I said you're welcome but they didn't say thank you....” The Captain has started responding to “Are you ok?” with “We've been over this before.”

I tried for awhile to stop saying sorry all the time. The problem was there are so many situations where you have to say something, and I had nothing to replace the word I didn't want to say. So I continue to apologize at the wrong times.

I dunno where I dunno came from. But I start sentences with it. It wouldn't be so bad except that I seem to give quite a lot of people the impression that I don't know much of anything at all. Come to think of it, it might have been part of my problem in public school...

I prefer writing. I'd much rather send an email than talk on the phone because I can't delete tripping over my words on the phone. Have you ever thought about a conversation you had earlier in the day and thought “Rats, I should have said this instead!” Well writing allows you to do that! (Unless you posted it to facebook and someone already turned it into an internet meme.)

My mom used to quote “It's better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” I wish I kept to it more sometimes. I may feel like I don't do so well speaking but I spend a lot of time doing so. I enjoy having someone to talk to and to listen to who ignores the stupid things that come flowing out of my face (which is why Aisling and I get along so well.) I've never been good at keeping secrets, something that frustrates me whenever I give something I shouldn't have away. I used to say that I never wanted to have any secrets from my husband someday, then I talked so much about everything to the Captain that I ended up handing him my journal to read.

I still don't have that back yet...

If I take the time to write something, rather than just say it, I end up happier about it. I'm such a shy person that while words come pouring out they're rarely ever the ones I want, and when I want to say something profound or helpful nothing ends up coming out. Writing allows me just enough time to say what I really want to say. So I like writing. 

Stormy Seas Part 3

  The parlor had once been such a comforting place. When I was young I had wanted to join in when mother and father held dinner parties and then the ladies went to the parlor afterward. All the ladies would come in in lovely dresses and sit on the pretty chairs, doing needlework and chatting.

I sat there now alone with Aunt.

“New York was fascinating, didn't you think so Viv?” Aunt was the only person in the world who called me Viv.

“Lovely,” I lied. I had insisted on returning home to visit, but when we arrived we found that mother and father had left on a business venture to Germany. I was more than angry with Aunt and had begun to think that she was keeping some of their letters away from me.

“Christmas in Venice would be most fitting after seeing Spain,” Aunt was saying.

“I had hoped to spend Christmas here, with mother and father,” I said pointedly.

Aunt ignored me. “I spent a lovely Christmas in Venice a few years ago, you'll love it, I'm sure!”

I had to escape. She was going to drag me all around the world until I was an old bitty like her. “I shall see you in the morning Aunt,” I stood. “I'm very tired.”

“Of course Viv. We should go to London tomorrow and spend a few days shopping so we'll be ready for France!”

“Goodnight Aunt,” I said. I left the parlor and then hurried down the hall to my room. Tonight was my only chance. I would have to get out and away before Aunt dragged me out of the country again. I shut my door and leaned against it as I thought. If I could get away long enough, mother and father would come home, and if I could tell them that I was tired of traveling with Aunt they were sure to be reasonable about it.

There was a knock at the door and the maid chirped, “Miss Vivian, are you in?”

I opened the door and let her in. She was a sweet girl and I had missed her while I was gone. “Come in Sarah.”

“I overheard your conversation,” she said. She knew how much I could not stand my aunt. She had confided in me before I left that the servants did not like her either. She had been especially cruel to the butler once, no one would tell me what she had said to him.

“It has to be tonight,” I said. Sarah began helping me unbutton the back of my peach colored dress.

“There must be another way,” Sarah whispered.

“I've already made up my mind,” I whispered back to Sarah. She gave me a disapproving look. “Can't you write to your parents?”

“Aunt has been intercepting them,” I said. “Did you ever hear them say anything at all about me coming?”

“No,” Sarah said sadly.

“And tomorrow will be too late,” I sighed.

“You'll be drowned. Or worse,” Sarah insisted.

“I'll be fine,” I assured her.

“Will anyone try to stop me, other than Aunt?” I asked.

“The groundskeeper might if he catches you,” Sarah said.

“I can get past him,” I said. “That leaves only Aunt then.” Sarah helped me out of the dress and then draped it over her arm.

“I suppose you'll want me to distract her and risk my employment?” Sarah asked. She put her hands on her hips.

“Not at all,” I said. I walked over to the closet in my undergarments and began pulling out the things I would need. “You'll just do your usual duties.”

“Help her to bed and tell you when she's gone to sleep?” Sarah asked.

I nodded and pulled a blue cotton skirt over my head.

“I'll do my best,” she said. “I still think there must be something else you can do.”

“If I wait to figure it out I'll be halfway to Venice looking forward to spending another miserable six months with her,” I insisted. I buttoned on a white blouse and sat down to put on stockings and my new riding boots.

“Shall I pack you anything?” Sarah asked. “She won't go to bed until she's had us bring up a bedtime snack.”

“I'm not certain of what I'll want.” I finished lacing up the boots and decided I was pleased with them. “What do you think I should bring?”

“I was thinking of food,” Sarah said.

“I'd appreciate it,” I said with a smile.

“I'll inform you when the time comes then,” she said. Then she hurried out of the room to find and attend Aunt.

I stayed seated near the closet prepared for a long wait.  

Stormy Seas Part 2

  I passed by the tavern as the lamps were being lit. I had seen nowhere else to get myself dinner so I went in. My shipmates were there, as I had expected.

“Eldon!” Ray called. He had a young woman seated on his lap with her arms around his neck. “I thought you'd come!”

I sat across the table from him, beside Ameya. “Hungry?” he asked with his usual smile.

“Starved,” I said.

“The soup, the soup is good,” he said. “You should try.”

“Food always tastes better your first day on land after a long voyage,” Victor belched. A woman set another tankard of beer on the table in front of him.

“Soup please,” I called to her as she passed by.

“What've you got?” Ray asked me.

“Bread,” I responded. “I got tired of ships biscuits.”

The others laughed understandingly.

A large bowl of soup was placed before me. “Thanks,” I said appreciatively. I grabbed the spoon and swallowed a chunk of cooked meat nearly whole.

“This sailor has a good appetite,” a female voice beside me said. I glanced up and saw that the woman who had left the soup was still standing there. I wasn't sure what to say in response so I laughed. “What's your name sailor?” she asked coyly.

“Mr. Elderton,” Ameya said from my other side.

“Eldon,” I corrected. I was starting to think he truly could not say my name.

“Aren't you sort of young to be sailing with rough men like this?” she asked me.

Victor snorted into his mug.

“They're a fine crew to sail with,” I said truthfully. Young indeed! Was what I thought. I was nineteen and there were scores of cabin boys younger than that.

I turned back to the soup. The smell of it had reminded me of how hungry I was, despite the pastry earlier.

“You're on land for a few days though?” she ran a finger down my arm.

“May I eat?” I asked her coldly. She harumphed away.

I swallowed a bite of potato.

“Owch,” Ray commented.

I realized that everyone at the table was silently staring at me. Ray turned back to the girl and Victor to his mug. Ameya was still leaning toward me.

“The soup is good, yes?”

Stormy Seas: Part 1

I've started work on a new story recently. I'm calling it "Stormy Seas" for lack of a better title. I'm going to try to post pieces of it regularly, but I make no promises about what 'regularly' means right now. Basically, if you, my audience, likes the story I'll keep writing and posting more (and if you don't like it you won't be sad to see it go.) So here's Stormy Seas!

This was my first time back at port since I had set sail almost four months ago. The sun was high and bright above my head, it seemed so cheerful even though all it was shining light on was a dingy port town on the coast of England. The buildings were all of brown wood or stone with streaks where the rain had pelted them. A large airship flew silently by overhead and I saw another taking off from the airfield across the city. People herded around me and the air filled with the sounds of their voices and business.

“Got your land legs back Eldon?” Ray asked from behind me.

I was sitting down on a crate near the dock. For once he was taller than me, with light red hair and very freckled skin from so much time in the sun. “The Captain wants us back to work.”

“I'll be fine now,” I said. I was so used to the sway of the boat upon the water that the ground felt shaky and made my head swim. I stood and ignored the bowing my feet still felt in the ground.

“We've got a day or so at port to enjoy the scenery,” he smiled.

“What scenery?” I asked.

“The girls back there,” he clarified.

I had barely noticed them in the crowd, it was all one jumble of people and noises to me.

“They'll be there when we're done,” he said. He gave me a little shove back toward the port.

The Lethargy looked every bit her name at port. The sails had been tied down and a crane swung out over her deck, doing all the lifting for her. The crew was hurrying around her, loading crates onto the crane bed and unloading crates on the dock. Some workmen from the town were hauling them away on carts.

Captain Peck stood on deck surveying everything. “You two!” Captain Peck called down at us. “Where have you been? Help unload!”

“Yes sir!” I called.

“Calm down, we're coming!” shouted Ray. We set to work as the crane set down a new load.

Ameya and Victor were already there unloading crates of sugar from the islands. The wooden boxes were heavy with their valuable cargo.

“Is hard work, yes?” Ameya asked me with a smile. I had never asked what country he came from, but my guess was India. He had tan skin, curly black hair, and a sharp looking nose. “We finish quickly and go into town, yes Mr. Elderton?”

“Eldon,” I responded. I never quite understood him, but I seemed to be the only one who had trouble communicating. I tried to pretend that lifting boxes required me to focus so that I wouldn't have to keep talking to him.

We went back and each picked up a heavy box, then grunted the entire way back to the cart. Ray passed us, carrying two crates, and staggering under the weight.

“You'll break something like that,” I said.

“Nah,” Victor grunted, carrying two as well. “We'll get it done in half the time.” Unlike Ray, Victor looked as though he had real muscle on him. He was small and a bit on the chunky side but didn't look quite so tiny under the crates. His light colored hair was stuck with sweat to his forehead.

I hefted another crate upward and tried to get a grip on the rough wood.

“Don't drop them!” Captain Peck shouted at us.

We ignored him.

The the crane was lifted back onto the boat and we had a break while the rest of the crew loaded it. I sat with the others, looking around at the buildings and people. Other boats were being unloaded by similar looking crews. Most of the ships had British flags, but I saw a few, just cargo ships like ours, with company flags. Ours had the Circum Trading Company's flag, a white flag with the red CTC in their seal.

My shipmates had already located the tavern a few blocks away.

“You coming with us tonight?” Ray asked me.

“I might stop in for dinner,” I said. I had no love for their kind of entertainment and they knew it, but I didn't know where else I could go in this strange port. I ignored the chatter going on around me about drink and gambling and women. Carts passed us noisily on the cobbled streets. I turned back toward the town and looked up the hill past the bustling market. In the distance I could see the real city, with large buildings and nice houses. Farther up the hill I could see an old stone church with stained glass windows.

I heard the crane begin to swing toward us again. We all stood reluctantly and waited for it to come down. The rest of the crew came down the gangplank.

“She's empty?” Victor asked them as a whole.

There were nods and grunts. The crane came down and they began to help us unload. The Captain came down as well. He stood over us with his neatly trimmed dark red mustache cocked to the side. It made me wonder what he did with his lips to get it to do that. “I have other things to do this evening,” he said. “I can't wait all day for you.” He picked up a large crate and carried it toward the cart.

Now we unloaded crates marked with words like Cotton and Corn. We seemed to have brought quite a lot of corn from the Americas.

After a few more trips I turned back for another crate and saw the crane swinging away upwards.

“You're free for the evening gentlemen,” Captain Peck said as he passed by. He went to talk to one of the cart drivers and the rest of the crew hurried off toward the tavern.

“Gonna join us?” Ray asked over his shoulder.

“Don't wait for me,” I said. I turned the other direction, mostly out of curiosity. I wound my way through the streets, moving uphill. I passed over a bridge with a muddy little river flowing underneath it and found myself on a neat little road with shops. Ladies walked up and down with baskets on their arms and kerchiefs on their heads. A group of children ran up the road and disappeared between two buildings, their cheerful laughter made me feel at ease. It was just another town, just like any of the others in the Americas or in any other place.

I strolled past the shops and peered in the windows at their wares. I passed a dressmakers and then stopped at a bakery door where the smell of fresh bread wafted over me in sweet, doughy waves.

I went in and spent a little of my wages on some real bread and a pastry. They had given me the bread in a little cloth sack and I carried it by the neck as I walked, eating my pastry. It had strawberries in the middle and creamy white icing in it's flaky crust.

Four months ago I would never have imagined that a few strawberries would taste so heavenly. I had been looking for a ship to sail with for nearly a year before Captain Peck had hired me on the Lethargy.

It had come about innocently enough, a few children's games. A few of my friends had started calling me Captain and the name stuck. The more I thought of it the more I wanted to be a ships captain. Sailing over the waves to endless horizons, leading a crew of good men to new lands.

I had been crushed when I learned that you had to go into the navy to be a captain. I hadn't liked the idea of it at all. A merchant ship was the next best thing, but then there were always companies instead of a free ship like in the old days.

“I'll have to watch you in case of mutiny,” Captain Peck had said when the crew asked me what I had joined the ship for. I had not expected his sense of humor. Mutiny was taken very seriously everywhere else but Captain Peck joked about it constantly. It almost seemed like he wanted someone else to take over the ship.

I thought about my mother at home with my four older siblings already married and settled in our little town. I was the first to go anywhere at all, and felt a little sad for her that the younger boys looked up to me so much. I knew that I should write a letter and send it to them telling them that I had reached England safely and survived my first real voyage.

I sat down on a bench beside the road. A little tree in a cage sat next to me on the side walk and all around were houses with iron fences around their little yards and gardens. I munched at my pastry as I looked around, thinking out the letter I would send home.

“Young man, what are you doing there?” A gruff voice asked behind me.

“Sir?” I asked as I turned around. It was a police officer in his uniform, he had some sort of stick in his hand.

“Go back to the docks,” he grabbed me by the collar and yanked me up, making me drop the last bite of my pastry. I watched as it hit the sidewalk and the large strawberry I had been saving bounced away and rolled in the street. “Back where you belong!” He gave me a shove and I hurried off with my wounded pride, the bread still dangling from my hand.

My ears burned. I knew what it was though, in my sailors clothes I didn't belong walking among the ladies in their silk skirts and fancy hats. Back at home no one really minded, anyone could go where they pleased. I slouched and stuffed my free hand in my pocket. It suddenly became apparent that I was very far from home.

I watched him walk down the street and felt very sorry for him. The policeman tipped his hat at me as I passed. “Miss Vivian,” he said.

“Miss Winters,” I corrected him with a smile. He was a pompous fellow with a big mustache and loud voice, I remembered it well from my mother's dinner parties before I had gone off traveling the world.

I caught a glimpse of the young sailor hurrying down the street toward the docks. He had his hat pulled down low over his dark hair and his bag over his shoulder. I could see the CTC seal on the back of his dusty blue jacket, and the name Lethargy. The name made me wonder if it was a real ship at all, who on earth would name their ship Lethargy? He was gone through the crowd in moments and I lost sight of him. I wouldn't have been able to follow him and apologize anyway, it would be scandalous to speak to him at all. He looked so much nicer than the other sailors I had seen, and so hurt that I felt sorry for him.

“Vivian!” a loud female voice called from behind me. My heart sunk and I pretended not to hear. “Vivian!” It was impossible to pretend any longer. I turned around.

“Yes aunt?” I said. She was strolling down the sidewalk toward me. Her red silk gown flashing in the sunlight and her face was nearly as red.

“This heat!” she complained when she caught up to me. “I thought I would accompany you on your errands.”

My heart sank even lower, but unlike the sailor I could not slouch or put my hands in my pockets, my skirt had no pockets and the corset I wore prevented slouching. “I'm on my way to get a pair of riding boots,” I said. “I'm very much looking forward to learning.”

“Wonderful,” she puffed. “I do hope you'll enjoy yourself! You should have written me more often before this and told me you hadn't learned to ride yet.”

“I was always terribly busy,” I lied.

“Yes well the Spanish countryside will be a perfect place to learn!”

I felt like grunting but knew that would not go over well with her.

“It will be worth the money for lessons. Your parents must be so glad to know that you're learning so much with me.”

I hated it when she talked like that. My parents had wanted to send me to a school close to home where I could learn how to throw dinner parties and be a proper lady. The idea was that then I would have all the necessary skills to marry a high society gentleman. My aunt had other ideas. She had offered to take me around the world with her, at her own expense, and help me meet wealthy prospective husbands. Once I had started traveling with her she confided that she felt a husband would be a burden to me, as my uncle and her late husband, had been to her. It seemed to me that she wanted nothing more than to turn me into a lazy leech like herself, spending all of uncle's family fortune on travel and luxuries. I had not yet figured out where she expected me to get great wealth from.

Thankfully England had been on our way from Iceland to France, and I had insisted on returning home to visit mother and father. It had been a long and lonely six months trapped in hotels and dinner parties with Aunt chattering about how much like herself I was becoming.

I quickened my pace as the cobblers came into view.

“And after France we'll go to Spain before the end of summer, and winter in Venice would be lovely!” she was saying.

It sounded like a threat to me, another round of travel with her. I stood at the cobblers getting my feet measured and felt sick with her watching me. Mother and father thought it was good for me. I had written many times to tell them of my plight. I was very tired of hearing how terrible it is for young girls to marry, and it was unfair that she continued to lie to my parents about her goals for my future.

I was not at all against marriage, in fact I was sorely disappointed that I had not met someone yet. I was already nearly eighteen. It would be nice to marry at all, though I still held out hope for a man near my age who wasn't very stuck up or arrogant.

I walked home with new riding boots wrapped in paper under my arm. I had not actually bought them for riding lessons, I had bought them with escape in mind.

While I was home I had a better chance, I knew my way around the city somewhat, and how to blend in. It also helped that I could speak the language.

I wasn't entirely sure what I would do but I knew that I needed good sturdy shoes to make my escape. The sailor I had seen earlier had given me an idea. Nothing left the city as fast as a ship. An air ship would be the obvious choice and there was an airfield at the edge of town, but they would be watched more closely than a sailing ship. If I could stow away on board a ship and sneak out when they made port I would be free. Aunt and my other family regularly gave me small sums of money. I had saved them up for years since I had no real use for it, I could use that money to keep me until I could sort something out for myself.

Perhaps I could meet a good man at another port. It was as simple as that, I could run away and get married. I might even find a dashing young ships captain, one who knew how to use a sword. There was something so romantic about an old fashioned sailing ship. I saw myself standing in the doorway of a house near the coast, watching the waves and awaiting his safe return.

I sighed as I thought of it.

“What's the matter dear?” Aunt asked me.

“Oh, just enjoying the lovely sunset Aunt.” It was a lovely sunset, and I was more than hopeful about my plan. I could endure aunt for a day or two more and when the moment was right I would take it.  

History

If I could go back in time I would go to to England in around the year 1152. That was the year that Henry II of England married Eleanor of Aquitaine.

Eleanor of Aquitaine became queen of France after her father's death in 1137. He left her Duchess of Aquitaine and the king of France's son was married to her within a few months. While she was queen she went on the Second crusade. It might not have been the best idea, and it surely didn't help her marriage, but how many women could say that they had been on crusade with their husbands?

So when the crusade finally dissolved her marriage to king Louis, Eleanor instantly became the most desired woman in the world. She wasn't just beautiful, she inspired many poets and songwriters. She wasn't just wealthy, she was duchess of Aquitaine, and Aquitaine was more than HALF of France. And along with everything else that she had she was smart. So in 1152 she married King Henry II of England. That was probably the highest point in her long (for the Medieval period) life.

And the coolest thing I can say about her is that I'm directly descended from her.

My dad went and did some digging a few years ago (I think I inherited my passion for family history from him.) He knew that our ancestor Annin Smith had lived in New England with his sons. Henry Wolcott came over to America from England in 1630, but dad started with Annin Smith. He even found the cemetery where he and his sons are buried. From Annin dad went back further, and then further and then further and further. He finally couldn't find any more information around the year 800. That's over one thousand years of my family history, and I'm only talking about my dad's side.

I had a book, a little princess diary book meant to teach little girls about real princesses. The one about Eleanor was my favorite. I read it about 10 times and had looked up some real information on her. Then dad handed me a list and showed me names and dates. I scanned to the bottom of the list where her name stood out. I could not have been more thrilled.

There is something so amazing about knowing so much family history. I don't point it out to rub it in anyone's face, I truly enjoy knowing more about my family and being proud to know about them. I can say that I am that my great great great grandfather was Fred the ship builder, and that Fred the Ship builder's family came over to America from England, and that if you follow his family back you reach King John of England, and king John of england was the son of Eleanor and Henry.

As fun as it is to say that, they all have a darker side. My great grandfather Vernon was married to a sad, broken woman. To this day I don't think I know exactly what happened or fully how it affects me, but Beatrice was not faithful to Vernon and she ended her own life while her children, including my grandfather, were still small. I don't know enough about Fred the Shipbuilder or Annin Smith, but there is plenty of information on my relatives from farther back.

I was watching a documentary the other day where it talked about king John's grandson Edward the third. His favorite daughter was sent off somewhere in France toward an advantageous marriage. What no one realized was that she was walking straight toward the path of the famous plague that wiped out half of Europe in the 12 hundreds. I really don't need to say it but she caught the disease and died.

King John has quite a history as well. If you live in England you may have heard of him referred to as "Bad king John" and if you live in America you've heard about the Magna Carta. The story I always heard in school was that bad king John was mean to the people and they cornered him in a field and forced him to sign a document saying that he would give up his power. There are books of the stories of the things John did before and during his reign. His own nobles were afraid to bring their wives anywhere near where he might see or hear of them. He had no respect for anything at all and is thought to be the only English king to have ever killed anyone with his own hands.

Bad king John learned much of his bad behavior from his father Henry. Henry's favorite pastime seemed to be cheating on the wife who gave him more than half of his power and wealth. Eleanor even raised one of his illegitimate sons, Geoffrey, along with her own sons Richard and John. Henry married Eleanor and instantly began insulting her. His friend the archbishop Thomas Becket was given many of the responsibilities usually given to the queen. One of those responsibilities was housing and entertaining foreign officials, and Eleanor would have been perfect for the job. Many of the foreign officials at that time were from France. Eleanor was from France, in fact she had been their queen and was mother to at least several French nobles. Slap in the face number two (that the books record) was baby Geoffrey, the son of Eleanor's husband and a prostitute.

The story of Henry and Eleanor continues. Eleanor favored the eldest son, Richard. Ya know, King Richard the Lionheart from the Robin hood stories. And Henry favored the youngest son, John. Ya know, bad king John from the Robin Hood stories. Their arguing eventually led to civil war, Henry and John on one side, and Eleanor and Richard on the other. In the end Eleanor was imprisoned by her husband, who somehow picked up the daughter of Eleanor's first husband (Through another wife or I'd be kinda grossed out…)

When Henry died Richard became king. Richard went off on the third crusade, and actually, as far as crusades go the one he went on was the most helpful thanks only to him. On his way home from the crusade he was captured in Germany. When he got his little brother to raise enough taxes to get his ransom, he made his way to France and thought "My mom is from France, and that whiny french king didn't help much at all during the crusade. I'm already king of England, I could just go home and rule my country but, I'm thinking I want France today." So Richard began sieging castles across France until he came to one little one that wasn't well defended. At this point Richard had been on crusade, in german dungeons, living on battle fields in France, and he probably hadn't bathed or washed his clothes in any of that time. Richard also had a pretty big head. He decided one morning before the fighting to have a look around the castle they were besieging. He took one man with him, no weapons, no cover, and no armor.

There was one French soldier on the little castle wall. He was ill-equipped and had little hope of winning the battle he was helping fight. Richard made fun of him for using a frying pan as a shield, but behind the frying pan the little French soldier had a crossbow. The French soldier shot him and the bolt went through his clothes and skin, taking all the germs it could with it. Richard rapidly developed an infection and left his kingdom to John. If any of you have seen the most recent Robin Hood movie with Russell Crowe it gives a rather accurate depiction of John, except that in real life anyone who was nobility in England spoke French. That depiction isn't flattering, it shows him as a whiny little boy trying to live up to his brother's image but with his father's personality. Plus he had an annoying mother who just wouldn't die. Eleanor lived to be over 80 years old. She outlived nearly all of her children.

So why am I so proud to know that I come from them? There were plenty of better people to be related to. I still like knowing so much about them, awful as they were. I find it interesting too to wonder how my family went from Kings and Queens to Fred the Shipbuilder, Dwight the Truck Driver, and Gordon the FAA investigator. What actually happened was one of the king's sons had a youngest son who wasn't king, and he had a youngest son, and he had a youngest son and eventually you're far from royalty. I see the royalty that I am related to as someone to be better than. Eleanor had everything anyone could want, but I want to have a better husband than she had, and I want to raise my children better than she did. I want to leave a better legacy than any of them left. I want to hold my head as high as they did and for much better reasons. I want to live like the kings and queens they had the opportunity to be but never were. Because when I think about it, through the generations my family hasn't changed much, we've just had so much less opportunity to be so bad. It's not that I want to make up for all the things they did, but I feel compelled to be someone they would be proud to have descended from them, I want to put them all to shame. 

The Story of My Life

There is a place. A palace, a city, a kingdom, an entire world that I am slowly exploring. This world is entirely in my head. I daydream about it being a real place with a real history. My own special gift from God that no one else can explore unless I give them permission. All of the stories I've written (the good ones anyway) have happened in this particular world.

The main story is “After the Heavens Rained.” It is an adventure that has grown along with me for as long as I can remember. I've called it and it's characters by many names, and characters have come and gone. Almost everything has changed in the story, just like I have changed since I began writing it. This story has been my retreat, my plaything, my hope, at times my chore, but always important. Always terribly important. And I'm writing it again.

Again because I've finished it before. I even have the entire document saved and I could simply go back and edit that version rather than starting over again. Yet I feel so strongly about making this story the absolute highest that I can make it that I began it all over. Again.

I think it has a lot to do with how I grow. When the story started I was very young, around 3 or 4 years old. I had a vague imagery of a girl, me, and two male companions her age being captured by pirates and tied up on a beach. I don't know if everyone is like this but I've always seen myself from the inside looking out as an adult, since I can't think of any other way to describe it. I think it must be that souls do not age but always see themselves the same way.

When I was older, 7 or 8, I wanted nothing but adventure, but I was in school with my friends. School was boring and I hated gym class. To make myself feel better I began to imagine that gym class was training for fighting, and that somewhere in our near future my friends and I would have to fight a battle. It didn't even matter why we would fight this battle, I simply knew that we had to. My story then became a group of friends in a school learning to fight against pirates. I began to imagine myself wearing a cape. My grandmother made me one of soft gray-blue cloth with a ribbon to tie around my collar. I would wear black velvet pants and a white button up shirt with my cape and hold a plastic sword or a stick in my hand and strut around the yard, daring the pirates to show themselves. In my mind I had complete control of the world, any enemy who faced me would fall before my mighty blade.

I did not count on one enemy. My parents took my brother and I to a Wendy's one night for dinner. I was feeling grown up and confident so I ordered a salad because I thought that it was a very grown up thing to order. We went and sat outside at a picnic table and I asked dad what we had come there to talk about.

“We're moving to Ohio.”

I broke instantly. I began sobbing at the table. I would have to leave my friends, the only ones to help me fight against the pirates. I would have to switch schools in the middle of the year, I would be the new kid.

We moved and suddenly my story was my escape. I would sit in class, watching out the window. I would wish that I could stalk over to the window, throw it open, run out onto the roof and fly myself away to freedom. I had a thousand escape plans and even began to try to memorize the points of the compass so I could fly myself back to New England. I began to write my story down and it began with the main character being dragged into an empty white room that was meant to hold her and kill her, but she escaped and flew back to her friends and her mission.

After a few years I broke again. Escape was not possible. I was simply trapped in school in a strange state that I did not feel was home. My grades plummeted. The children in school with me were cruel and the teachers, who claimed that they would help me, refused to acknowledge my need. I began to have thoughts of suicide, wondering how much it would hurt if I took a knife to my wrist. I continued to write and I drew the first map of my world. The story began to change ever so slightly. Suddenly it was the main character telling her tale of adventure to her small children. Suddenly there were castles. The main characters were a princess of a race of people who could fly and could now turn themselves into fire, her younger brother, a prince from another land who was fighting his own battle, and a massive army of children who they were teaching to fight against the great enemy I still referred to as the pirates.

Then God allowed me to meet Aisling. I was lost in fantasy then. I was so used to lying to myself and making stories in my head to get away from reality that I didn't know what else to do. I wanted to do something great with my life, I knew that I was here for a purpose, but I had no direction. Aisling had it. She was confident in reality. Fantasy was her puppet, not her life. I wanted to be everything she was, and I thank God for that. Aisling began to teach me and I slowly learned that there was an enemy to fight and there was a reason to fight him along with a way to fight him. People were in desperate danger, and I had the power to save them. What I didn't realize was that Aisling had just saved me. I set my book aside and began to dream of being a missionary to far off countries, battling the dark forces of this world.

That dream did not last long. After a few months I think I grew bored with it. I picked up my story again and began to see it as a way to fight for God, I could bring people closer to God if my characters were following him. The enemy in the book became a race of evil people who had rebelled against God, and the main character was a star in the sky who could come down to fight them, and there were humans caught in between. 

I began to notice the boys around me. The main character and the human prince began to fall in love. The story faded quickly from an adventure to a romance. I lost that adventure lust I had had. Every story that came to my mind was a romance. The human prince in my book was “secretly” modeled after the Captain. The story adopted it's new name, “After the Heavens Rained.”

I sat down one week on spring break and wrote page after page after page. I was nearing the end of the story, something I had never seen before. I came closer to finishing High School, the end of school was in sight. Then my book was finished. I thought I would simply edit it and publish it. I graduated and spent the summer writing while preparing for college. I took it to college and worked on it, trying to force myself to edit the entire thing before the end of the year. I began to worry that the Captain would never love me. I asked Aisling what love was because I wanted to be sure of what I was feeling for him. I felt discouraged with my book again but pushed myself to work on it. It was the only thing I had that could lead to the future since I hated college as much as I had hated school and had no assurance that the Captain would come for me. I cried myself to sleep at night trying to decide how I would live if he married another girl.

I began to reach the end of my book again. The part where the enemy is defeated and the weddings begin. The Captain took me out in the woods and handed me a bouquet of white flowers. I wrote it into my book. I finished the story again and sent it out for reviews, feeling higher than ever.

Some time has passed and I'm still a bit close to the events to know exactly how it played out. I was not satisfied with the story. My writing had improved too much and I had left the story behind. It needed to be rethought and redone. Maybe this will be the last version. Maybe I'll read it and send it off to publish it instead of begin it again. Maybe I'm done growing. Maybe I still have more to explore in both worlds. Whatever the rest of my story holds I want to add;

To God be all the glory, for all that He has done for me and given to me.