Dark Petals on a Pale Rose

Almost Ready
Friday, May. 17, 2002 ~ 12:17 a.m.

"We walked for only a short time before I saw our wagons and my horse. I knew I didn't want to face anyone else, so I kept my head down, watching the forest floor. Jean (the mystic), lead me straight to his wagon. He was the only one among us that had his own. We never questioned it though. We figured he needed his privacy for what he did.

"For some reason, I was surprised at how organized he had everything. Since I had learned to read, I read anything I could get my hands on, so naturally, the first thing I went to was his books. There were so many of them.

"I stayed in his wagon for the next week at least, most of the time curled up with whatever book I grabbed next, leaving only when it was absolutely necessary. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to face those men, but Jean didn't try to force me. He brought me food and drink and respected my privacy. We would talk from time to time about anything really. We talked about things I had grown up 'knowing' and things I had learned from reading. Quite frequently we talked until the early morning hours.

"After a little while, he started trying to get me to be sociable again. 'They're asking about you. They miss seeing you and want to know that you're all right.'

"'I don't want to talk to them. I'm not ready to see them.' I was stubborn then. Of course, if you were to ask anyone who knows me now, they'd tell you that I still am.

"'Why not? I already told you that what happened was an accident, that it won't happen again. Are you going to hold that against them forever? And what about the others, the ones who had nothing to do with it? Are you going to ignore them as well?'

"I just stared at him a moment, then looked away. I stared at the corner as I tried to come up with a good answer, but there was none. He had made it sound so childish, but try as I might, there was no other way to make it sound. It was childish. Maybe I was just afraid of what they thought of me. Maybe I was a bit ashamed. After all, I ran away at the first sign of trouble.

"I sighed and looked back to him, 'you're right. You always are. I was being childish and I can't always hide. I'll go out there tomorrow.'

"He came over and kissed my forehead like my mother used to do. 'You've grown, child. You've begun to mature. I'll teach you everything I can soon. You're almost ready.'"

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		To the begining Almost Ready Friday, May. 17, 2002 ~ 12:17 a.m. "We walked for only a short time before I saw our wagons and my horse. I knew I didn't want to face anyone else, so I kept my head down, watching the forest floor. Jean (the mystic), lead me straight to his wagon. He was the only one among us that had his own. We never questioned it though. We figured he needed his privacy for what he did. "For some reason, I was surprised at how organized he had everything. Since I had learned to read, I read anything I could get my hands on, so naturally, the first thing I went to was his books. There were so many of them. "I stayed in his wagon for the next week at least, most of the time curled up with whatever book I grabbed next, leaving only when it was absolutely necessary. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to face those men, but Jean didn't try to force me. He brought me food and drink and respected my privacy. We would talk from time to time about anything really. We talked about things I had grown up 'knowing' and things I had learned from reading. Quite frequently we talked until the early morning hours. "After a little while, he started trying to get me to be sociable again. 'They're asking about you. They miss seeing you and want to know that you're all right.' "'I don't want to talk to them. I'm not ready to see them.' I was stubborn then. Of course, if you were to ask anyone who knows me now, they'd tell you that I still am. "'Why not? I already told you that what happened was an accident, that it won't happen again. Are you going to hold that against them forever? And what about the others, the ones who had nothing to do with it? Are you going to ignore them as well?' "I just stared at him a moment, then looked away. I stared at the corner as I tried to come up with a good answer, but there was none. He had made it sound so childish, but try as I might, there was no other way to make it sound. It was childish. Maybe I was just afraid of what they thought of me. Maybe I was a bit ashamed. After all, I ran away at the first sign of trouble. "I sighed and looked back to him, 'you're right. You always are. I was being childish and I can't always hide. I'll go out there tomorrow.' "He came over and kissed my forehead like my mother used to do. 'You've grown, child. You've begun to mature. I'll teach you everything I can soon. You're almost ready.'" � <~ \| ~>