Holly Moore

Chapter One: The Flying Creature

The maid placed a plate of food ahead of me. I am about to thank her, but I'm interrupted by one of my father's familiar grunts.

I purse my lips to prevent myself from smiling. My dad is a stumpy man, and he does what he wants, where he wants; no exceptions. His dark hair is tightened back into a knot above his long face, his eyes protruding from his face like eggs in a nest. Next to him, my two lanky brothers already staring at their food while my mother gives them both deathly looks.

They all put their hands together, looking down to their laps for a moment before grabbing their forks. I pick my own fork and knife up and start cutting up the meat.

"Son what news do you bring?" My father's low grumpy voice shouts, steadily holding himself in a straightened physique.

"Nothing father," William's voice waves, dragging the vowels and slurring his words, making the whole room smell like old beer.

"Were you stealing from my crates again? You've been drinking my ale and now you're out of it!" he shouts. I continue eating, glancing up at them

"Marriage is wonderful. You should think about getting a wife instead of stealing my possessions!" my father continues to shout. I look up. "And what are you all doing being so quiet? Roth? Aren't you finding a fair lady soon?"

"Yes father, I am looking.  Every chance I get, I blow it." Roth replies,

"So don't blow it?" He grunts, "And you, Holly, I have had too many men ask me for your hand, but you always reject them. We need to push her! We need to tell people we have a woman to marry. Nineteen -years old, very old but will have to-"

"Shut up!" I jump to my feet. The table shakes, and plates wobble as slam my palms on the table top.

"What did you just say?" my father asks slowly, looking at my face.

"I'm not just a possession to be sold, Father! Maybe I want to fall in love!"

"You don't get a say in that!" he shouts, slamming his fist onto the table. "You want to be a maid and bring this whole family dishonor, be my guest. But with your attitude, that's all you'll get."

I stare down to my shoes, trying to calm down. Breathe in... breathe out. My eyes begin to burn, I felt a tear run down my cheek. 

"Can't I be a hunter." I mutter, instantly realizing the stupidity of what I've said.  

"Girl, you listen carefully. That's not your job. You sit there and look pretty like you are meant to." He grins, "Understand?"

I blink, glaring at him for a moment,"Yes, father."

"Good girl. Sit back down. Remember my loved ones, it's 1557. To the queen," He raises his glass, and so does everyone else. I sit back down in my seat, raising my champagne.

"To the queen." I mumble, I take a small sip of the bitter alcohol, placing the glass back down on the table. I wipe my lips with a napkin, then placing it back onto my lap.

They resume their conversation. I begin to ignore them like I always do, feeling myself drift, until I hear my father's shouts in my ear. I shiver, looking up at his blotchy red face. I knew exactly what I needed to do.

I stand, picking up my plate before walking around and taking everyone's plates too. I walk into the kitchens and put them down on the wooden table to clean later. I walk back into the dining hall, using the advantage of my dad listening to my mother talking to sneak out of the room.

I walk down the corridors, passing some poles and unpainted walls before heading into the courtyard. I breathe in the fresh air, the smell of the grass blowing in the wind along like a potion. Taking my shoes off, I step onto the lush. I throw my feet around, feeling the grass brush between my toes and the cold mud leaving faint marks on my heels. I start to run in the direction of the pond, my hair falling out of its tight up-do. It whips in my face, sily in my fingers as I push it back. I laugh loudly, feeling like a bird flying in the wind. Suddenly, my legs fail me and I roll down the hill, wailing as I tumble across the lawn. I come to a rest at the bottom of the bank, I then try to loosen the corset confining my stomach. Why must this feel normal to me?