The Cost Of A Young Maiden's Freedom
The thunderous impact, followed by a child's cries, was more than enough to wake the entire town. But crying children were nothing new to the church. The stone building before him had long served as a refuge for many weeping infants. In fact, one child in particular, stood just beyond the door.
Her plan to quell her boredom, gone dangerously awry.
Days at the church were boring.
Its grey stone façade loomed over the quiet street. Dim light filtered through its tall, narrow windows draped in faded curtains. Inside, the air was thick with dust, and the creaky floorboards echoed with the shuffle of small feet. Its sparse décor featured crooked, dull paintings, and the worn wooden pews offered little comfort, forcing the children to squirm during long sermons.
To say that nothing ever happened would be an insult to the very concept of 'nothing.' It was as if the church had been stripped bare by the rest of existence, leaving behind nothing but the dull remnants of what could have been.
Well, at least that was what Feyra thought. And on her bed beside her best friend, she devised a plan to escape this dullness.
"You know, one day I'm gonna break out of here, Kerian, and then, oh baby, I'm gonna be like a fish in water." Feyra stated, her tone laced with enthusiasm.
"I don't know why you tell me this same story every day; you know it's not breaking out when you are allowed to leave, right?" the boy responded, twirling a small knife between his fingertips.
"Oh, see, that is where you don't get it. If I leave when I'm allowed to leave, then I'm just following 'the man'—"
"Which man?"
"It's metaphorical; don't interrupt. Anyway, if I really wanna beat the man, then I'm gonna have to disobey the rules. That's right, I'm going to have to make him tell me to stay in, and then, oh, and then, I'll defy him."
"Is this going to be like the time where you stayed up 15 minutes past bedtime, staring at the door, making sure Father Fionnlagh didn't come in to check on you?"
The young girl slumped over in her seat; it was now obvious to her that even her 'best friend' wouldn't take her seriously until her plan was actually complete.
Her pristine black hair, always draped over her ears, along with her dark brown eyes and her assortment of dresses that she wore daily, gave everyone the impression that out of all the 103 orphans in the church, she was going to be the last one to break the rules.
And they were right.
"Alright, since you think that I'm just a goody-two-shoes, I'll prove to you the depth of my conviction tonight, and oh ho, you're gonna regret ever doubting me."
"I more just don't care than doubt—"
"You'll regret it!" Feyra interrupted.
The children were, for the most part, allowed to come and go as they pleased. The domain lands and caverns were far enough away that none of the children would venture to them, and most of the people in the town knew their faces. There were only two exceptions to this allowance: the first was that they weren't allowed to go into the forest, and the second was that they weren't allowed to leave at night. However, tonight, Feyra planned to break both of those rules.
Two hours before lights out, Feyra came to Kerian with 15 pieces of parchment, each side of every piece full of words that culminated together to create her magnum opus of rebellion.
The plan itself was simple, only taking up a single line: 'Walk out the front door at night, and walk into the woods.' The remainder of the parchments listed various contingency plans: 'If this happens, then we do this,' over and over again for pages on end.
"Ok now, listen closely; this is what we are going to do."
…
With the plan now thoroughly explained and only 10 minutes until lights out, they prepared to move out, or at least they would have if Kerian hadn't fallen asleep listening to the explanation of what they would do if they were attacked by between sixteen and twenty-six medium-sized alligators.
Feyra was all alone, but she wasn't going to let that stop her. And why should she? After all, out of all the 103 children in the church, she was the only one who was an Awakened Weaver.
"That's right, Feyra, you can do this; this is nothing for you. What is the dark, scary, unknown to an awakened weaver? That's right, it's a... well... still dark and scary, but that is besides the point."
This self-hype session continued for the following 10 minutes until it was finally interrupted by the clock in the church bell tower striking, meaning one thing: lights out.
Moving as quietly as she could through the corridor past all the rooms of the sleeping children, Feyra had never felt so alive. Her adrenaline was pumping, her heart was beating, and she wasn't even outside yet.
"Freedom, here I come!"
However, just as Feyra touched her hand to the handle of the door, a deafening thud reverberated through the entire structure of the church.
The noise was like thunder, causing the wooden beams to tremble as if the building itself quaked in response. The flickering candles plunged from their stands, striking the ground with their dying flames, sending tiny globs of wax soaring across the floor. The wooden frames that held the paintings also shook violently before they too crashed to the ground. The once tranquil atmosphere was replaced by a chaotic whirlwind of noise and confusion.
Feyra's heart raced as she instinctively pulled her hand away from the door, her pulse quickening in the aftermath of the shock. And as the colour drained from her horror stricken face she could do nothing else but atone.
"god, listen to my plea," the girl began to confess, her knees now on the floor and hands clasped together, pointed towards the heavens, "I have sinned; I wanted to be a bad girl, but I'm not. Please, you have to forgive me; don't strike me down like you did with legless Dorian. I'll be a good girl from now on, I promise!"
Tears were now streaming down the girl's face; however, to her surprise, the resonance of her wails was matched by the cries of what seemed like a baby, coming from just beyond the door.