True_Writers Prompt B1: Don't Ask, Don't Tell
"Father, we've known that I liked girls since I was eight." Ledra stared up at him from where she sat at the pianoforte. "I'm not being improper with Miss Elia at all."
"Don't try my patience." Her father glared at her. "You heard Pastor Elia's proclamation--you will not continue upon your abominable path any longer, and you will repent at the Great Stone on Sunday."
"Pastor Elia is not the One God, nor is he a reliable agent of the same." She smiled as she quoted him right back in his face-- when drinking alcohol had become a sin, he'd gone on a tirade that had lasted for days. "You know he just makes things sins because they make his life difficult, Father."
"Your attraction to those of your own sex is not natural," her father said, crossing his arms and setting his jaw; he was serious about this. "Pastor Elia says that at your young age..."
"Fourteen's not young!" she replied, standing up; she rather appreciated the way her pale blue gown swished down her legs to her floor as she did so. It added some much needed drama to the situation. "I could be an officer, if I liked."
Her father rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and leaned against the wall--he looked an awful lot like the portrait of his navy hero grandfather when he was upset. "Ledra, it's a sin. Pastor Elias is considered a prophet in these parts and it would look very bad..."
"Oh, so it looks bad!" Ledra shouted, feeling her composure slipping. "Fine then; I'll just go up to my room for the rest of my life and never marry because there's a big man in a little backwater who says that my love and I look bad!"
"Then go up to your room and lock the door!" her father shouted, pointing through the arched doorway of the drawing room. "Go! Just stop letting the world at large know that you're a sinner!"
Ledra felt tears in her eyes and ran from the room, but she didn't go upstairs to her bedchamber. Instead she fled to the stables, to her horse who would always bear her away to the hills. If her father wanted her to keep her head down, he'd have it; she was done with him.
"Don't try my patience." Her father glared at her. "You heard Pastor Elia's proclamation--you will not continue upon your abominable path any longer, and you will repent at the Great Stone on Sunday."
"Pastor Elia is not the One God, nor is he a reliable agent of the same." She smiled as she quoted him right back in his face-- when drinking alcohol had become a sin, he'd gone on a tirade that had lasted for days. "You know he just makes things sins because they make his life difficult, Father."
"Your attraction to those of your own sex is not natural," her father said, crossing his arms and setting his jaw; he was serious about this. "Pastor Elia says that at your young age..."
"Fourteen's not young!" she replied, standing up; she rather appreciated the way her pale blue gown swished down her legs to her floor as she did so. It added some much needed drama to the situation. "I could be an officer, if I liked."
Her father rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and leaned against the wall--he looked an awful lot like the portrait of his navy hero grandfather when he was upset. "Ledra, it's a sin. Pastor Elias is considered a prophet in these parts and it would look very bad..."
"Oh, so it looks bad!" Ledra shouted, feeling her composure slipping. "Fine then; I'll just go up to my room for the rest of my life and never marry because there's a big man in a little backwater who says that my love and I look bad!"
"Then go up to your room and lock the door!" her father shouted, pointing through the arched doorway of the drawing room. "Go! Just stop letting the world at large know that you're a sinner!"
Ledra felt tears in her eyes and ran from the room, but she didn't go upstairs to her bedchamber. Instead she fled to the stables, to her horse who would always bear her away to the hills. If her father wanted her to keep her head down, he'd have it; she was done with him.