The Vow

Chapter 1 – Quarterly Ritual

We all gathered around, ready to listen to the stories that had been

passed down from generation to generation. To be honest I’d heard the

stories many times over in my thirty years of life, this evening wasn’t

for the benefit of myself or the other adults here in our community, but

mainly for the children within the group.

I guess that the fables we were used to were no different to stories all

children listen too, all children believed in fairy tales, knights in shining

armour and beautiful princess at one point in their lives, but these

stories had more meaning, and in some sense, they were true. Well, we

couldn’t disprove them, how could we, we were living, breathing

representations of those stories, so I guess we had to just take them at

face value.

The gathering in the town hall was a quarterly ritual, the Olders and

the pregnant mothers had the seats while the rest of us either sat or

stood around the stage and the periphery listening in. As our Historical

Leader started, you could see the kids looking up at her, wide eyes and

full of anticipation, this would be their first time to hear our histories

and being as they have just become of age, it was going to be shock to

the old system, I can tell you.

The town hall was a wooden structure, basic in its boxy form, clear

glass window adorned all sides to allow as much light in as possible,

the strong oak floors were worn and had been walked over many,

many times in the past, the whitewashed walls were bright, a little too

bright, at certain times of the day, they seemed to blind you with the

brightness they omitted, no pictures, posters or decoration was hung

on them, just plain, white, and bright. It always boggled me as a child

how they stayed that way, well the answer is not so magical or

mystical, the whole place is painted every year, so that blew the

fantasy of an otherworldly building from my mind quickly, especially

when I have been selected on more than one occasion to do the

redecoration.

The hall sat squarely in the lands we called home, all the buildings were

built concentrically around this building, making it the first thing you

saw when you opened your front door or looked out the windows.

I guess if we were able to view our land from above, it would look like

some weird spider’s web of buildings circling over and over again, we

were a lucky community, we had running water courtesy of the river

that ran through our land and the mountains above that every year

during spring, it managed to fill the river and, alongside that, our holding

ponds. We also have the means to create electricity in the form of

wind converters, and we had enough land to sustain crops of many

grains, vegetables, fruits, and farmland for rearing animals for milk and

meat consumption, we were a lucky group. I sometimes hate to think

what would happen if disaster struck and one of those ‘luxuries’ was

taken away.

Tucked away from the circles stood the main hub of activity, again in a

circular pattern, the hub held most of the buildings that you didn’t

want to see, that would mar the beautiful views we had, the hub

consisted of the forge, tannery, slaughter house, and linen row where our

clothes were made, grain stores and warehouses holding the groups

goods before it being shared amongst us all, this area was a blot on

our peaceful landscape and was strategically hidden by hedges and

evergreen trees to mask not only the noise and ugly aesthetics but the

smell.

We were very lucky indeed, as a group we hardly ever suffered from

sickness, we were a healthy bunch, but that didn’t mean when

something serious occurred we were without the means to help and if

the worst happened, we had a cemetery. Within our culture, we didn’t

bury our dead, we burnt them, It makes perfect sense to me, I mean

bodies took up space, and long ago, there were rumours that the

deceased could affect our water and food stocks by accidentally

poisoning them, I don’t know how true this was, but I’m glad we didn’t

have to find out. Now, once our loved ones were burnt, we placed the

ashes in small earthenware jars and add a small name plaque to signify

who was laid to rest.

This practice I had since learned was not for the benefit of the

deceased, but purely for those left behind. Somewhere you could go

and feel close to those who you had lost. Growing up in this place, it

was our belief that none of our existence stayed, we, well, our souls

ascended. It was a bitter pill visiting that place. While others took

comfort in having their someone close. For me, it was just another

reminder of how alone I was. My parents were not here. No plaque, not

jar and no place I could seek comfort. I was told the day after that

fateful evening, my parents were gone, never to been seen again. But

nothing of their person had remained. At aged ten, it never fully sank

in what they were saying. In adulthood, it made more sense. Only

those who committed the most hideous sin and took their own life

ended up that way. The only reminder they had ever existed was a

scorch mark of where the action had taken place. If not for that mark

or marks in my case, it would be as if they never existed at all. My

parents had chosen to leave me alone in this world. As safe as I was

with my other blood relatives, not knowing their reasons for such

actions and ultimately knowing I wasn’t enough of a thought to stop

them cut me to the bone.

The cemetery like everything around here was also circular in shape

with the oldest plaques in the middle and the newest snaking their

way around, it was surrounded by a circular wall of evergreen plants, I

always liked the trees, never changing, green, and full throughout all

the seasons. It was a peaceful place for many, and though it left me

empty, it was somewhere I went to when I needed some time alone to

think. Though most knew of my situation, they never ever bothered

me there.

Whether it was due to a level of guilt or a genuine action of kindness, I

would probably never really know.

The cemetery and Hub were somehow connected yet tacked onto the

main areas, two circular bubbles added onto the outside of the main

area, I guess the shape you would see in your mind was that of ears

added on top of a head or a flower that was almost through the game

of he loves, ‘he loves me not’. Inclusive yet separate.

Our whole land was tucked away in very dense woodland our land

looked as if it had been carved out of the forest, I had always assumed

the trees that had been removed were used to create the buildings we

resided in, but that was just a guess, we still had a mass of numerous

trees, bushes, and flowering plants, this is all you could see.

It looked like one day it would creep up on us and consume us and take

it back to when it was just forest and bushes, but so far, we were safe,

no such secret creeping of the forest had occurred.

We were told as children that our land had a circular wall surrounding

it with no entry or exit, this made any movement in or out practically

impossible, though I’ve heard whispers that some people have scaled

the walls to sneak a look outside, I never knew if this was a truth, but

to be honest, I wasn’t too bothered either way. After all, I just never

cared if these stories were true or not. I didn’t really care what was out

there and cared even less if someone at some point had gazed over

the top.

I walk toward the front of the hall and glance around before the real

reason were here commences. Smiling to myself, I realise that where

I’m standing now, and it seems to be the spot I tend to gravitate towards. It’s

funny how over the years, actions become habits.

I suddenly have an involuntary shiver run down my back, making my

skin rise with goose bumps, I know it’s not just the anticipation, I guess

it’s just this place, this building, these stories that make me feel like I’m

living in some sort of fairy tale, one day, yes, one day I vowed to myself,

I’d find the truth, seek out the Others, and then return to either prove

them right or blow these stories out of the water, I was just biding my

time.