Hi guys… just to let you know I’m heading off to Spain tomorrow and then travelling for the next five weeks. So if there is a lack of posts that is why but I will still try and update when I can. Until then Happy Simming .

Hi there… this is just a warning that the next post is pretty macabre (pictures and text), so if you don’t want to read it that is totally okay. It isn’t key to the story and you will be able to work out what is happening without it (I can also give a synopsis in the comments section of my next post for those who don’t want to read). Also if anyone who does read it feels like it is too awful and I should tone it down a bit then feel free to write that in the comments and I will try and take it into account. So… if I haven’t put you off completely now… read on…

Mella quietly walked into the garden chapel, hoping the men had gone. What greeted her there was too horrible to imagine. All around the once peaceful place of worship lay the twisted, bloodied bodies of her sisters, her friends.

She gazed around in horror, unable to avert her eyes from the awful visions surrounding her. The gentle sound of water dripping in the fountain seemed a cruel background for such a scene of violence. At the foot of the statue of their mother, the serene Mary, lay sprawled the sister named for her, naked, her blood spattered on the pure white pedestal.

It was unspeakably awful. Mella grasped her head in her hands and squeezed her eyes shut tightly, begging the Lord to make this go away.

“Our father who art in heaven, our father who art in heaven”, she repeated like a mantra, pressing her hands into her temples, trying to make the images go away.

But it was no use, and the blood that surrounded her slowly seeped into her vision until all she could see was distorted limbs, gaping wounds and staring dead eyes.

She clutched her fists to her chests in a panic.

“What should I do? What do I do? Please, someone, help… I don’t know what to do”.

She was answered by a blurred movement at the edge of her vision. Horrified, she turned towards it and saw the corpse at her feet stirring. She rubbed her eyes, trying to will a return to reality but when she looked again, the corpse has struggled to a sitting position.

It opened it’s cracked, bloodied lips and rasped, “But you must know what to do… you must help us. Please, please help us. The pain is too much… I cannot bear it. Please, you have to do something”.

It reached out a hand to her and strained to pull itself onto its ruined legs. Mella could hear the cracking as it rose, it’s arm extended at an odd angle, blood caked on it’s back, where a huge, open wound was visible.

It looked puzzled as it reached around to feel the gaping hole. A moan escaped from between it’s lips and it began to wail, a sound that made the bile rise in Mella’s throat. She noticed another corpse pulling itself to a sitting position and began to pray fervently and desperately, her hands over her ears to block out that dreadful sound.

“Please, Lord have pity on me”, she cried gazing upwards to the catherdral ceiling and beyond.

“Have pity on you?, she heard another voice that was almost a scream and turned to see sister Mary, “Why did he not have pity on us?”. Her voice was gaining pitch and it was such a vile noise that Mella’s whole body was shaking. “Why didn’t you help us Mella? Can’t you help us now? The pain is so bad… please… can’t you help”. She pawed at the open wound on her side.

Next to her, another corpse was trying to pray, a sight that filled Mella with terror and pity. But she could do nothing to help these women. It was already too late and this was her condemnation for hiding in the crypt while they were massacared.

Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed a small figure moving near the fountain. A wave of dread rose up in her as she realised it was little Bethany, her beloved friend. Bethany had been the closest thing to family she had ever had, her confidant and comforter. She fought the urge to be sick. Bethany sat up and looked around, surprised at the blood, failing to notice the dark red edges of the jagged wound ripping across her stomach, barely visible amongst the folds of her tunic.

She looked down and saw the state of her midsection, her face a grimace of fear and pain.

She slowly rose and stumbled towards Mella. Mella almost reached out to help her small friend but she stopped when she heard a cracked laughter coming from her. Bethany stopped in front of Mella, so close that she could smell the stench of death coming from between her bloodied lips.

“Bethany, I’m so sorry… oh my Bethany… how could they have done this to you”.

To her dismay Bethany leered widely at her, a look of horrific joy spreading across her rotting face.

“He is coming for you Mella, wait for him”, she said with a look of sheer ecstacy. “Vous êtes belle”.

“Vous êtes belle”, she repeated her laughter growing, and now all four corpses were laughing too, a shrill sound which felt like a knife piercing Mella’s skull.

They all began to chant in horrific tones, “Vous êtes belle”.

“Please, god… deliver me from this evil… help me”, she cried in utter terror.

With a start she sat up bolt upright in her bed, the sheets slick with sweat. Her heart was pounding in her throat and her mouth was dry. As the panic subsided she felt an overwhelming rush of relief. She had dreamt of that night many times before, of wandering through the chapels and coming upon body after body. But it had never been like this.

She froze in horror as she saw blood staining the white of her sheet. As she looked down another drip fell. She put her hand up to her face and felt blood pouring from her nose.

Lisbet folded the embroidery she had been working on and tucked it neatly under the bed. She paused for a moment and sighed.

The room was stuffy and she didn’t like the way it smelled. It smelled like Cordell. She supposed it wasn’t such a bad odour really but the fact that it belonged to him was enough for her to despise it. How had she ended up here? She had hoped for so much more. As a young girl Lisbet had eagerly listened to the romantic stories her mother and sisters had spoken of and known that in her future lay a great love story. She had wanted it all, and waited to be swept off her feet by a knight in shining armour. She had got her knight but that was all. Now all that was left was a dusty drawer in the back of her mind where she had folded her dreams and packed them away as neatly as the embroidery.

She slowly stood and began her preparations for bed. She did not want to be awake when Cordell arrived. Unfortunately for her, they had not been able to have two seperate rooms onboard the ship, space was limited as it was. How she hated sharing a room with that man.

She stood before the mirror and undid her hair. As always as soon as it was released from its tightly woven confines it returned to its natural wild state. She knew there was nothing that could be done to change it, she had cried for hours and hours when she was a child, pulling her brush through the tangles, trying to tame her messy hair.

Now she was happy her hair was the way it was. She thought that it made her appear unattractive to Cordell and was glad for it. He had often called her many names, a harpy, a banshee or a witch and she knew that they all referred to her hair. But it suited her well, she would not make an effort to look nice for him and she wanted him to know it.

She pulled her nightgown over her head hurriedly, always concerned that Cordell might chose that moment to retire, got into bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. She shivered as a cold, dank breeze blew through the hull of the ship. She had to admit it would have been nice to snuggle up to a warm, manly body on those nights, but not Cordell.

Cordell walked quietly into the room. He knew Lisbet would be sleeping already and the last thing he wanted to do was wake her up. Then there would be hell to pay and he didn’t feel like a screaming match tonight. He paused at her bedside transfixed by the sleeping figure.

She seemed so vulnerable when she was asleep, like a worn out child with all the days fury gone. He knew she would hate that he sometimes watched her sleep. But it was at these times he could imagine that things were not the way they were and this was his soft, warm wife he could curl up next to. She was his wife, but he did not know whether she was soft and warm, the only time he had touched her was to share a chaste kiss at their wedding.

How he hated her during the day, but in her sleep she seemed somehow lovely, even more so because he knew he did not have permission to look. Her wild hair flowed out around her face onto the pillow. He liked her hair, particulary since he knew he was the only one who got to see it like this. Every day she tortured it into a bun for the benefit of others, but only he could see it in its natural state.

Suddenly she opened her mouth widely and began to make snuffling noises. A surge of irritation rose in him as he realised he was going to have trouble sleeping because of the noise she made. Her face seemed ugly to him again in his anger and he turned away and began undressing, quietly so she would not awake and see him.

He silently slid into bed and pulled the covers up, listening to her gentle snoring. It wasn’t so bad really, and he was lulled to sleep by the waves rushing onto the sand outside.

Lisbet awoke to the sound of loud snoring. She bristled all the way to the tips of her untameable hair. That man! How could she be expected to get any sleep when she had to share a room with him. She pushed the bed sheets back violently and clambered out of bed.

It was pitch black in the room so she lit the candles. She quickly straightened her nightdress which had ridden up while she slept, put her hand on her hips and stamped her little foot. This did not achieve what she had hoped so she coughed loudly in an attempt to wake Cordell. But he was sleeping like the dead, although his snoring proved that he was very much alive.

She stomped over to his bed and shook him awake.

“You were snoring so loudly, I couldn’t sleep… you know I hate it when you do that!”.

She turned to blow out the candles and go back to bed but Cordell’s voice calling her back stopped her in her tracks. She had not expected him to say anything and she really wanted to get back to bed.

“Why do you have to be so cruel to me Lisbet?”, Cordell asked angrily.

She turned back to him in exasperation. “What am I to do but wake you when you make such a raucous. I cannot sleep. Am I to lie there and take it. I must be married to a man such as you, but I am now not allowed to have my sleep either?”.

“Sometimes you are so loud I just want to smother you with a pillow. Do you have any idea what you are like? Well I suppose you do since the other day you snored so loudly you woke yourself up. If you didn’t drink that ale before you slept you wouldn’t snore so. Why can’t you be more considerate?”.

Cordell was so angry he thought he would explode and consume Lisbet in fiery rage. He pointed a finger at her that was trembling with barely controlled hostility.

“Why can’t I be more considerate? I? Considerate? You are my wife! I should be sharing a bed with you and yet I do not force you. Many men would! I have tried to be a husband to you despite your rages, and your tantrums, your sulking and your evident hatred of me. From you I have got nothing. Nothing!!!! You were supposed to make me happy but you make my life a living hell… you are a witch sent to destroy me. And you are! I hope it makes you happy. I am nothing.”

“So here it is”, he said, trying to control his emotions, “You are my wife and as such you should behave as one. I will not force you to do anything, but perhaps you could treat me with some respect. I will build us a big house and we can sleep on rooms on the opposite sides and you may never hear me snore. But for now, you will not wake me again, even if my snores are so loud they are tipping this ship over. Do I make myself understood?”.

Lisbet did not answer him, she only scowled and turned away stalking back to her bed, leaving him completely drained of emotion.

They both quietly retreated into their own beds and pulled the covers up to their chins. Neither would admit it, but they were both trembling with the effort of not crying.

It was a long time before either could sleep or snore as they lay in their separate beds, shivering from the cold of the room and the chill on their hearts.

Darina stood in the mess-tent clutching a bowl of partially eaten porridge. The menfolk had come and eaten their lunch leaving the usual mess to be cleaned up and it was her day to do it. It was a hot, muggy day and the tent was stuffy and had the distinct reek of sweaty males.

Whoever had been eating this particular bowl had obviously not enjoyed his meal and had poked at the porridge until it had ended up a congealed cold mess that she had to clean up. Looking at the globs now, and thinking about the spoon going in an out of some dirty mouth made her stomach turn.

In fact, now that she thought about it, her stomach wasn’t just turning, it was doing sommersaults. She felt bile rising in her throat and clapped a hand to her mouth, using all of her willpower to keep from throwing up.

Not here, she thought moving quickly towards the doors of the tent so none of the other women on cleaning duty would notice and out into the fresh air.

She took a couple of gulps but this was not enough to appease her roiling stomach and she found herself bolting for the nearby bushes. She knew these bushes well, she had spent the last few days becoming very well acquainted with them.

She clutched her stomach and retched violently, spattering the leaves with the morning’s breakfast. She paused for breath trying to control her body’s reponse but the sight of her vomit caused her to heave again.

She raised a trembling hand to her face to wipe away the tiny beads of sweat that were adhering to her brow, and took a deep breath. It seemed that it was over for now.

She put a hand to her chest and felt her heart racing. This was not like her, she never got ill and it couldn’t have been rotten food because it had been going on for days and days. She felt mildly nauseous most of the time now that she thought about it.

She suddenly had an idea and cursed herself for being so stupid and naive. She carefully counted back the days since she had last bled and realised it had been much longer than it should have.

A smile burst through the close confines of her face. It was rare for Darina to smile about anything, unless she were laughing at some other’s misfortune. But for a moment a smile managed to make it through. How stupid she had been. She was not a young girl anymore, she had seen other women before. She knew what was supposed to happen and yet she had doubted her own body.

Thoughtfully she rubbed her still small stomach. Yes, it must be true, everything added up. She smiled to herself, her thoughts turning inward to the small being she carried within her. She half-whispered, “You are going to do great things my little one, great things”.

Hey everyone! So sorry for totally neglecting Mhalwae this week. My sister has been visiting so things have been exceedingly hectic (but also really nice) with lots of sightseeing and staying up late (and eating… oh the eating). So I haven’t had enough time to post or to answer comments from you lovely people but I will try to rectify this situation when I get home tonight. Just wanted to let you know that I haven’t forgotten you =).

Also, I should let you know now that I am heading off for five weeks next Thursday… first to a workshop in Spain, then for a course in Germany and then a conference in France (hurrah for doing a PhD in Europe). I am taking my laptop with me and I have taken heaps of pictures in advance for posts I want to write. The only thing is I don’t know when I will have internet connection, so I won’t be able to do my usual post every three or four days, but I will still try and keep them coming.

Okies… better get back to work… thanks again to you all for reading =).

It had been a very long time since Gena had spent such a pleasant day. She had gone with one of the other peasant women, the young girl Hepsie to collect berries from the forest. Gena wasn’t used to people being kind to her, her whole life there had been noone except Noah. Either they pitied her for her disability or they hated her for being a burden.

Something about Hepsie was different. She exuded a kind of warmth from her that seemed to surround all she turned her attentions to. Gena thought that she was well-suited to midwifery, her presence in the room would make any woman feel at ease, despite her young age.

“I have to tell you something”, Gena felt Hepsie’s face lean in closer to her own.

“But you musn’t tell noone else… ’specially not my Steen cause he’s a wonderful boy but he does get mighty jealous and I don’t wan’t him breaking no nobility’s noses”.

Hepsie put a finger to her lips to emphasise the necessity of keeping this a secret, forgetting momentarily that Gena could not see her gesture. It did not matter, Gena would have died rather than told Hepsie’s secret. She could not remember anyone ever taking time to share their secrets with her, and she considered it a great privilege.

Hepsie began to laugh, “So, do you know who I had the misfortune to meet in the forest the other day”.

Hepsie did not give Gena enough time to guess but rapidly continued her story.

“Why it was that old Sir Alexis… you know, the one with that funny little beard”.

“You know what he did… he came up to me and called me his pretty, eyeing me with those beady eyes of his. An’ then he come up to me and says he wants to see if I’m fully grown yet and tickles me on the sides”, she started to act out the offensive tickling on Gena, who was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

“And you wouldn’t believe it… the ole’ cad grabs me and tries to kiss me and I tell you what it definitely wasn’t no noble kiss like this one here”, she said between laughs, grabbing Gena’s arm and kissing up it in what she considered to be the way nobles would kiss. Tears were running down Gena’s face as she shook with barely constrained giggles.

“An’ I got such a big old shock that I pushed him away from me and slapped him right across his face”, she snuffled a bit to contain the laugh that was about to burst free, “Ohmy you shoulda seen the look on that poor man’s face, he looked like he had just stepped right in a cow pat”.

Hepsie stopped laughing for a moment, “I’m telling you all this not just cause it’s so darn funny, but because I want you to know you should be careful. It’s not so easy on an island like this to keep away from men like him and you know there are worse here”. Hepsie wrinkled her brow, “And besides, if he tried it on with you you wouldn’t be able to see to clock him one on that stupid mustache of his”.

At this they both dissolved into laughter again, but in the back of her mind Gena had heeded Hepsie’s warning.

The two women stayed for a lot longer than they were supposed, relishing the freedom from endless chores and the beautiful sunny day. They sat together, Hepsie chatting animatedly while Gena listened quietly, happy to be allowed to be part of the conversation. Hepsie sat with her knee just touching Gena’s, as though she sensed Gena’s insecurity in the dark world and her desperate need for human contact.

When the day became dusk, they reluctantly rose to walk home before it got too dark.

Gena mustered all of her courage. “Hepsie”, she asked timidly, “would it be all right if I touched your face, I would just like to know what you feel like?”. Gena prepared herself for the young womans anger and rejection. She knew it was imminent but she had to ask, it was hard to go through life never knowing how people looked. She felt like she could imagine the way Noah was better now that she knew how his face felt.

“Why of course you silly goose, why din’t you ask before. It must be awful not being able to know what your friend looks like. If it will help you of course you shall”.

Gena’s heart almost skipped a beat when Hepsie said the word friend. She had never heard that word used in conjunction with her before, never dared to consider anyone would want to be her friend.

She tentatively reached out her hand and touched Hepsie’s face, moving it over the broad curve of her nose and her smiling lips, feeling the warm, soft skin of her cheeks and her unwrinkled brow.

Now there was another sharing the darkness with Noah. The features of the man who loved her more than anything else were there, but now also the features of a friend.

“C’mon then, we had better get us back before it gets dark and the beasties get us”, Hepsie said jokingly, gently taking the older woman’s hand in hers and leading her back towards the ships.

What she did not realise was how very right she was.