First a real quick preamble. First, this story contains no sex scenes. It's mostly setup for later installments. Later ones will have sex, or will at least contain scenes with intimacy which heavily imply that the characters have had sex. I haven't fully decided yet. Also, this chapter is going to be an emotional gut punch, at least that's the goal. If that bothers you, you have been warned.
Home is Where the Heartache is
I lived on a small farmstead with my parents, just on the outskirts of the village. It wasn't anything special, but it was home.
I came home around mid-morning, after checking my traps. I set my pack near the door, and found Mother in bed. She had been ill for almost a week. In that time, she had been growing gradually weaker.
Her voice was a no more than a whisper. "Sebastian, why are you home so early? Did your hunt not go well?"
"The traps were empty. Game keeps getting scarcer. I may need to start ranging further out if we are to survive."
"Don't worry. We'll be fine. No matter what happens, we're still family. I believe in you and Thomas."
Thomas was my father. A small, wiry man, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a face that seemed to hold a permanent scowl. I could never shake the feeling that he didn't like me, but I couldn't see why. I would ask Mother, but I couldn't get a direct answer. I wasn't disrespectful or lazy. I just couldn't figure it out.
Mother had another coughing fit. They were getting worse. Recently, I started seeing blood on her sleeves, and handkerchiefs, despite her best efforts to hide it. I quickly brought her a cup of water. I tried to pretend not to notice, but I decided that I couldn't just let it go today.
"Mother, how long have you been coughing blood?"
"Hmm? What are you talking about Sebastian?"
"Mother, please don't lie to me. Cecilia has been washing your handkerchiefs. I've seen the blood. I just want to know how bad it's gotten."
"You know, she's a lovely girl. I know her parents approve of you."
Cecilia was the butcher's daughter, and my dearest friend since I was nine. I had given it thought, but the blight had pushed such thoughts out of my mind. Perhaps I should ask sooner rather than later. With her blue eyes, chestnut locks, and rounded features, it would surprise no one if she were married off to some merchant's son.
But I would not be distracted from my question. "Mother, please."
She turned her head away. "A few days now. Its been getting worse."
"You're not going to get better, are you."
She shook her head. "I don't think so." The words hit me in the gut. Until this past week, I hadn't even conceived of a world without Mother. Now the realization was undeniable.
"Listen, Sebastian. Brie, the butcher's wife, was over here, and I had her write my final instructions in a letter. I asked her to keep it until I... until I die."
"Mother..."
"Shh. Please let me finish. I don't have much time I have left. I want you to take care of everything. Your father has enough troubles without adding me to them."
The crops had been blighted this year. We barely had enough to pay the taxes, much less enough to live on. I had been hunting and trapping for months, but there never seemed to be enough. Despite the deprivation, I was 19, so well past my prime growing years. I was a solid six foot one. Prior to this year, I was built like a tree, but since the blight, I looked more like a stick. My green eyes were framed by slightly sunken features, and the dark brown hair I had inherited from Mother was starting to thin a bit.
Another coughing fit from Mother broke me out of my reverie. She had stopped trying to hide the blood. I couldn't help but wonder if she even had that much blood left in her veins. She was starting lose color, and her eyes looked dead.
"Mother? Mother?!"
"I'm still here Sebastian. I'm still here."
"I don't want you to go."
"Listen, I know this is hard. It's going to get harder. Just know that I love you more than life itself. Please, live well for me, my dearest boy."
"Mother? Mother?! Mother?!!"
A Grave Matter
Cecilia found me weeping by Mother's bed. She had her mother in tow. Ever since Mother had gotten sick, Cecilia's mother, Brie, would come visit and help Cecilia with the house and keep Mother company. I heard Brie cry out in pain, though it didn't register at the time. Cecilia rushed to me and held on like I was going to fly away.
Mother wanted her grave to be on top of the hill a few miles from our house. I started digging her grave myself. I stabbed the shovel into the ground, again and again. Father didn't seem interested and that meant that the responsibility fell to me. A few of the townsfolk came to offer their sympathies. One man was less than welcome in my book.
Father Augustine resembled a man, but under the skin lay a snake. He was portly, with long, thin gray hair, and eyes that contained the avarice of a demon. He was the only man in the village who got fatter during the blight. It was like the man had made it his mission to make my life as miserable as possible. He always seemed to come up with the worst things to say. When I caught my first rabbit, he opined on the reasons why eating meat would lead to moral degradation. When I failed to catch anything, he would ask me how my family would survive without meat. He would also leer at Mother whenever Father wasn't looking. I could see in her face that she hated it, but whenever I brought it up, she would tell me to pretend like I hadn't seen it. Now that Mother was no longer here, I was sure that I would end up killing him. Many's the time I wished I could strangle him with his own belt.
Father Augustine licked his chops as he began to speak. "Good evening, Sebastian. Such a shame about your mother. She was always such a pious woman."
"Yes, she was, Father Augustine. What can I do for you?"
"Oh no, I should be asking that. I came to offer a sermon for the sake of your dead mother."
Just looking at his face fuels my hatred. Why couldn't he be the one to die in her place. "There is no need. I will give her eulogy, and then bury her."
"Well, if you're sure. Such a shame though. I'm sure your mother would have appreciated one last sermon."
"Perhaps, but I swore to her that I would take care of this."