Tuesday, September 7

Shadow


Ella has worked as the Head Maid for nearly 24 years. She had defended the manor from babies, children, weddings, parties, even wars. Never was a mess left in a corner, or a tapestry left unbeaten even for a single day. Through that time she has seen many things change. Some of that change had been ushered in by her. Currently she was sweeping one of the long, meandering hallways. The broom's straw strands making a careful, ordered swish swish on the cool stone floor.



She smiled at the thought of all the hours she had saved by inventing a new way to bind the straw together and to the broom handle. She had soaked leather in a pot overnight (over the fire next to the boiling rabbit stew: another of her innovations she reminded herself to reminisce on later). Then she bound the straw with the soaked leather, and baked each set of brooms in the bread oven. What came out was a broom that would last well beyond four of its string-bound counterparts. A slow smile spread across her face.



Ella saved every copper or silver she could over the years. Except for the occasional dress, and the essential consumables she had saved every possible bit. Next week she would talk to the Lord, and then leave.  She had enough to buy a small estate somewhere, preferably in the trees; she loved the birds' calls. Her mind wandered as she continued to sweep down the corridor.



Swish. Swish. Swish. As she neared a window a chill went up her spine. The ordered cadence did not falter, alter, or change no matter where her mind went. Then, suddenly, it stopped. As Ella had swept past the window, and her shadow fell across the floor, her long, smooth stokes moved across her shadow, until on one identical stroke, her shadow was swept away in a furl of dust and minute bits of straw. Where just a moment past the swish had fully swept through the air, a scream rent it sharp like a knife... A man's laughter, deep and sardonic could be heard coming from just outside the window in the courtyard beyond.