Dark Petals on a Pale Rose - Stolen in the night.

Stolen in the night.
Friday, May. 03, 2002 ~ 3:45 p.m.

"That fear never really subsided, though I guess the people grew accustomed to it. They tried their best not to shun my family, but my mother could see the changes in their behavior.

"I didn't know any different. My mother and father loved me to the point of distraction. They saw me as a gift, a very special gift. My brother took some time to get used to me, but somehow, I gained his love and acceptance too.

"I believe I had a normal childhood for that time period. That is to say that nothing stood out as strange to me. My father left every morning to work on the large farm that all the men in our village worked. My mother and brother stayed home as women and children did.

"From very early on, I remember my mother teaching my brother and me. She tried her best to teach us the ways of the world as she knew it, but I realize now that she didn't know much of it. Despite how loving my father seemed, he tended to be cruel at times. He never allowed my mother out on her own, and he never took us to other towns and villages.

"My world consisted of my small village, and the world I dreamed of I only knew through my mother's perceptions of what my father saw. A longing grew in me with each bedtime story.

"In time my brother grew to working age, and he too started leaving early every day to work with my father. I was 10 years old at the time and helped my mother with the chores of the house. We spent most our time cleaning, preparing meals and although we bonded, the longing that resided in me kept us at arms length from each other.

"My mother tried to tell me that I would have no choice in how my life was spent. As all the other women in our village did, I would just live, marry and die in that small town. I would never leave there because there was no one there who would take me. My heart sank when I heard those words, but I didn't let it show. I didn't want my mother to know what I knew in my heart. She could have done more than be the prisoner that she was, but she had been that way for so long, she didn't know how to do anything different."

She once again paused her pen. She felt an ache in her heart thinking about her mother's drowning strength. Touching a slender finger to the corner of her eye, she wiped away the crimson tear that had just started to form. Perhaps it was seeing her mother unknowingly trapped that gave her the strength to leave when she did.

"As I grew, I had my suitors, those who were not afraid of my unusual eyes, but I made it clear to my father that I did not want to marry. I believe I even threatened to take my own life should he have chosen a husband for me, and I must have been convincing. He turned the men away, both young and old.

"Then one summer, just before I turned 17, a band of gypsies came to rest for a time at the edge of the forest, just outside of our village. My father had strong views on the gypsies as I recall, but I remembered the bedtime stories my mother told me when I was younger and my father was away. She had told me of the ways the gypsies danced and played. She told me all that she could remember from her own childhood and how she had longed to go with them.

"I slipped out of the house one night to see these people for myself.

"I was mesmerized. They were beautiful and graceful. Most of all they seemed to enjoy their way of life.

"I stayed with them into the early morning hours. They welcomed me into their camp and told me stories of their travels. I told them of their reputation in our village and what my father thought of them. In response, they just laughed. They didn't care what others thought of them. So long as they accepted each other, nothing else was important. They were free.

"I left them a few hours until dawn, afraid that my father might wake while I was still gone, and while I laid in bed, I could not think of anything but the life they had described. It was so similar to the life that I had longed for since I was a child.

"I didn't sleep at all that night, just as I won't sleep at all this day. My curiosity consumed my thoughts and I could think of nothing but joining them. I fought the urge to leave, using the love I felt for my family as my weapon, but in the end, my desire won out.

"I packed a small stash of clothes, gathered up the few special things that were mine and slipped out of our home without saying goodbye. I would have left a note had I known how to write, but my father believed that women had no need of that knowledge.

"The gypsies welcomed me. They knew I would join them. I found out later that I had been the reason they stopped to rest where they did, and we were gone before morning light."

�

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		To the begining Stolen in the night. Friday, May. 03, 2002 ~ 3:45 p.m. "That fear never really subsided, though I guess the people grew accustomed to it. They tried their best not to shun my family, but my mother could see the changes in their behavior. "I didn't know any different. My mother and father loved me to the point of distraction. They saw me as a gift, a very special gift. My brother took some time to get used to me, but somehow, I gained his love and acceptance too. "I believe I had a normal childhood for that time period. That is to say that nothing stood out as strange to me. My father left every morning to work on the large farm that all the men in our village worked. My mother and brother stayed home as women and children did. "From very early on, I remember my mother teaching my brother and me. She tried her best to teach us the ways of the world as she knew it, but I realize now that she didn't know much of it. Despite how loving my father seemed, he tended to be cruel at times. He never allowed my mother out on her own, and he never took us to other towns and villages. "My world consisted of my small village, and the world I dreamed of I only knew through my mother's perceptions of what my father saw. A longing grew in me with each bedtime story. "In time my brother grew to working age, and he too started leaving early every day to work with my father. I was 10 years old at the time and helped my mother with the chores of the house. We spent most our time cleaning, preparing meals and although we bonded, the longing that resided in me kept us at arms length from each other. "My mother tried to tell me that I would have no choice in how my life was spent. As all the other women in our village did, I would just live, marry and die in that small town. I would never leave there because there was no one there who would take me. My heart sank when I heard those words, but I didn't let it show. I didn't want my mother to know what I knew in my heart. She could have done more than be the prisoner that she was, but she had been that way for so long, she didn't know how to do anything different." She once again paused her pen. She felt an ache in her heart thinking about her mother's drowning strength. Touching a slender finger to the corner of her eye, she wiped away the crimson tear that had just started to form. Perhaps it was seeing her mother unknowingly trapped that gave her the strength to leave when she did. "As I grew, I had my suitors, those who were not afraid of my unusual eyes, but I made it clear to my father that I did not want to marry. I believe I even threatened to take my own life should he have chosen a husband for me, and I must have been convincing. He turned the men away, both young and old. "Then one summer, just before I turned 17, a band of gypsies came to rest for a time at the edge of the forest, just outside of our village. My father had strong views on the gypsies as I recall, but I remembered the bedtime stories my mother told me when I was younger and my father was away. She had told me of the ways the gypsies danced and played. She told me all that she could remember from her own childhood and how she had longed to go with them. "I slipped out of the house one night to see these people for myself. "I was mesmerized. They were beautiful and graceful. Most of all they seemed to enjoy their way of life. "I stayed with them into the early morning hours. They welcomed me into their camp and told me stories of their travels. I told them of their reputation in our village and what my father thought of them. In response, they just laughed. They didn't care what others thought of them. So long as they accepted each other, nothing else was important. They were free. "I left them a few hours until dawn, afraid that my father might wake while I was still gone, and while I laid in bed, I could not think of anything but the life they had described. It was so similar to the life that I had longed for since I was a child. "I didn't sleep at all that night, just as I won't sleep at all this day. My curiosity consumed my thoughts and I could think of nothing but joining them. I fought the urge to leave, using the love I felt for my family as my weapon, but in the end, my desire won out. "I packed a small stash of clothes, gathered up the few special things that were mine and slipped out of our home without saying goodbye. I would have left a note had I known how to write, but my father believed that women had no need of that knowledge. "The gypsies welcomed me. They knew I would join them. I found out later that I had been the reason they stopped to rest where they did, and we were gone before morning light." � <~ \| ~>