Ancient Wounds
“Tell me more about you,” you had said to me one evening, your head resting on the warmth of my naked thigh, barely able to keep your pretty blue eyes open from our blissful activities. I had protested against the idea, for it was too lengthy a yarn for the present hour of the night whence we found ourselves unclothed and taking in the beauty of each others company. I only had eyes for you now and wanted nothing more than to bask in what you had given me that night, but you my little Pan, would have no such thing. So I yielded to your desire.
“What do you wish to know, my love?” I smiled obligingly placing a delicate grace of my lips to your heavy lids.
“Where did you come from Master? How was it you came to me..” you yawned pulling the clean white bed linen up around your creamy torso, even though that night found itself fairly warm. “You where a mortal once, as I was…weren’t you my Lord?”
My expectancy that this would indeed turn out to be a lengthy tale, was now very much realized as I reflected upon your question. So I motioned for you to release my borrowed thigh for a moment before settling myself down beside you upon our bed sheets, which out of the combination of the nights heat and my desire not to hide my vulnerable form from your sight, I did not take up to conceal my nudity from you. I kissed you upon the forehead affectionately and took a moment to take in the rich spicy scent of your heated flesh, a reflexive smile breaking onto my pink lips as you sighed for me. You who quickened my old heart.
“I was dear. Very well, I’ll tell you what you want to know, Bam” I breathed softly.
So we begin….
I was brought to Oulu in swaddling clothes, the year was 1890. My father had been a poor travelling merchant hoping to make his living in the farmlands and markets of the countryside. My mother had been exiled from their village not long before my birth-under crimes of witchery. She had buried two unborn sons and her infant girl child before seeking the help of an old crone, and thus I was conceived under the crones instruction a moon thereafter.
We had little money when we settled, but my father had swiftly established himself over the coming years as a scribe and crafts merchant of sorts, for he was an unusually able writer. This was due vastly on my mothers tuition-for she had learned from her grandmother, and her grandmother had done so from her mother before her. We told no one in our settlement of my mothers literacy, for that had been one accusation that had lead to our migration in the first place. Naturally she had taught me her skills from an early age. Never the less it was a difficult but comfortable existence, and we earned enough to bread our table and to fire the hearth of our derelict old cottage skirting the edge of the town. The new century had not yet dawned on our quiet part of the world.
I was eight years of age when, as if by a miracle, a second son was born to my mother. He was given the name Jesse, and I loved him from the moment I laid eyes on him cradled in my mother’s arms. But with my brothers birth strain was put upon my father to support all four of us. My father was a good man who loved his family, to this day I still retain this belief.
Nevertheless , we got by. At nine I would work in fields with the other boys and receive a few coins for scaring away crows and other pest birds. I had such fun in those days, and by the evenings I would skip home to our dappled part of the land and present my earnings to my father, who always was pleased at my return. When my father would go out some nights I would sit by the hearth with my mother, who would leave Jesse in his make shift crib to draw with me in the ashes.
We would make up stories, and she would tell me tales of my forefathers and my homeland, of its Gods and heroes, of monsters and maidens in in distress waiting to be saved. She also taught me songs, which she specifically would instruct me, as seriously as one can without frightening a small child, that we must never tell father about what we sang or spoke of by the fireplace. I was to come to learn the reasoning behind this in my later years, but for now I obeyed my mother without question, for her words were my law.
However my mother had not told me to keep these fancies from my friends, and so it was I sang them when in the fields during the day. I would sit in the summer grass beside my crop and hum along with a boy called Dyre , son of a local blacksmith, and together we would chant among ourselves with childish abandon..
‘Hum, ha, trill go bell
Hogyn cam to bowers dore
Hogyn cam to bowers dore
He trild upon the pin for love
Hum, ha, trill go bell
He trild upon the pin for love
Hum, ha, trill go bell’
I was to learn this was not a wise act, so sing this song in the open, and I would find out exactly why that was in times to soon come…
Just as I was about to continue my life’s story, when I noticed you had fallen asleep where you lay. Never mind my darling, the morning is not far away, and this is a tale we best revisit when you are better rested, I say to myself. So I embraced your waist and crawled under the sheets with you, and there is no where else in the world I’d rather be.
------<3
Sorry for the delay my dears, but the heart wants what it wants after all!
Some input on whether it would be better to section off the regressive parts with some kinda line would be v good. much lovexx
“What do you wish to know, my love?” I smiled obligingly placing a delicate grace of my lips to your heavy lids.
“Where did you come from Master? How was it you came to me..” you yawned pulling the clean white bed linen up around your creamy torso, even though that night found itself fairly warm. “You where a mortal once, as I was…weren’t you my Lord?”
My expectancy that this would indeed turn out to be a lengthy tale, was now very much realized as I reflected upon your question. So I motioned for you to release my borrowed thigh for a moment before settling myself down beside you upon our bed sheets, which out of the combination of the nights heat and my desire not to hide my vulnerable form from your sight, I did not take up to conceal my nudity from you. I kissed you upon the forehead affectionately and took a moment to take in the rich spicy scent of your heated flesh, a reflexive smile breaking onto my pink lips as you sighed for me. You who quickened my old heart.
“I was dear. Very well, I’ll tell you what you want to know, Bam” I breathed softly.
So we begin….
I was brought to Oulu in swaddling clothes, the year was 1890. My father had been a poor travelling merchant hoping to make his living in the farmlands and markets of the countryside. My mother had been exiled from their village not long before my birth-under crimes of witchery. She had buried two unborn sons and her infant girl child before seeking the help of an old crone, and thus I was conceived under the crones instruction a moon thereafter.
We had little money when we settled, but my father had swiftly established himself over the coming years as a scribe and crafts merchant of sorts, for he was an unusually able writer. This was due vastly on my mothers tuition-for she had learned from her grandmother, and her grandmother had done so from her mother before her. We told no one in our settlement of my mothers literacy, for that had been one accusation that had lead to our migration in the first place. Naturally she had taught me her skills from an early age. Never the less it was a difficult but comfortable existence, and we earned enough to bread our table and to fire the hearth of our derelict old cottage skirting the edge of the town. The new century had not yet dawned on our quiet part of the world.
I was eight years of age when, as if by a miracle, a second son was born to my mother. He was given the name Jesse, and I loved him from the moment I laid eyes on him cradled in my mother’s arms. But with my brothers birth strain was put upon my father to support all four of us. My father was a good man who loved his family, to this day I still retain this belief.
Nevertheless , we got by. At nine I would work in fields with the other boys and receive a few coins for scaring away crows and other pest birds. I had such fun in those days, and by the evenings I would skip home to our dappled part of the land and present my earnings to my father, who always was pleased at my return. When my father would go out some nights I would sit by the hearth with my mother, who would leave Jesse in his make shift crib to draw with me in the ashes.
We would make up stories, and she would tell me tales of my forefathers and my homeland, of its Gods and heroes, of monsters and maidens in in distress waiting to be saved. She also taught me songs, which she specifically would instruct me, as seriously as one can without frightening a small child, that we must never tell father about what we sang or spoke of by the fireplace. I was to come to learn the reasoning behind this in my later years, but for now I obeyed my mother without question, for her words were my law.
However my mother had not told me to keep these fancies from my friends, and so it was I sang them when in the fields during the day. I would sit in the summer grass beside my crop and hum along with a boy called Dyre , son of a local blacksmith, and together we would chant among ourselves with childish abandon..
‘Hum, ha, trill go bell
Hogyn cam to bowers dore
Hogyn cam to bowers dore
He trild upon the pin for love
Hum, ha, trill go bell
He trild upon the pin for love
Hum, ha, trill go bell’
I was to learn this was not a wise act, so sing this song in the open, and I would find out exactly why that was in times to soon come…
Just as I was about to continue my life’s story, when I noticed you had fallen asleep where you lay. Never mind my darling, the morning is not far away, and this is a tale we best revisit when you are better rested, I say to myself. So I embraced your waist and crawled under the sheets with you, and there is no where else in the world I’d rather be.
------<3
Sorry for the delay my dears, but the heart wants what it wants after all!
Some input on whether it would be better to section off the regressive parts with some kinda line would be v good. much lovexx