The Eastern Woman

Two sisters

"Flora...?"

Esther stared in amazement at the cloak that had been left dangling on the drying ropes.  It was fabulous, made of an intense cobalt blue with precious details in gold thread, which adorned the edge.

The woman reached out a hand, fearful, to touch it.  It was soft velvet, a fabric that Esther had never seen before.

"Flora ..." she repeated, in a slightly higher tone.  This mantle is a gift from the fairies, she thought.  The good fairies their mother spoke about every now and then.

Esther was a forty-eight woman, with the mind of a child of five.  She was a poor unfortunate lady. Her sister Flora, who was three years older than her, had been forced to look after her sister after their elderly mother had died.  Together they had grown up, together they shared that large rural dwelling, built by their grandfather, together they were aging.

"Flooora!"  She shouted again.

From the small stables behind the house, a voice was heard muttering.
"Goddamn!"  swore her sister, a big woman with a masculine appearance, walking out with a hen in her right hand.  She was about to kill it.  The poor animal screamed in fear.  "Why are you yelling?"

"Flora, look at this!" Ester said, pointing at the cloak.  "The fairies brought it to us!"  She exclaimed enthusiastically.

Flora approached to observe that gigantic piece of blue cloth that dangled on their porch, elegantly moved by the wind.  "What the hell is this stuff ..." she murmured.  She did not realize that three pieces of their clothing were missing out there.

"It's a gift! It's for us! The fairies brought it!"  Esther continued to chatter, thrilled by the news.

"Shut up!"  said Flora.  Her sister had a rotten brain, she still believed in fairies, gnomes, and leprechauns.

Flora observed the drawings on the edge of the cloak.  There was a symbol, an ornament that resembled the head of a horse.

"It's ours, Flora! It's all ours!"  Esther said again.

"It's not ours, you silly! Someone left it ... maybe a thief."  grunted Flora.  "This is a thief's loot. He left it here!"

Esther kept on caressing the precious garment.  "I'll wear it tonight, I'll show it to everyone!"

"Stop it! Whom would you like to show it to, to some gentleman? Did a rich lord invite you to a feast?"  She asked sarcastically.

Esther silenced.

"... or maybe you'd like to wear it to pick the turnips from the garden? We have to give it back. They have probably stolen it from the Royal Palace, maybe it's property of our Queen, or her sister."  concluded Flora.

"NO!"  shouted Esther.  "It is ours, it is mine! The fairies left me, the good spirits of the woods. The ones who come into the house at night and whisper to me!"

Flora felt a shiver of discomfort down her spine, as always when her demented sister started with her madness.

The hen still writhed in her hand, and the woman threw it away.  The little animal ran away in a frightened clucking.

She approached her sister, who instinctively drew back. Now it comes the beating , her myopic eyes said.

"Esther ... enough with this. I said this thing has to be returned ... I don't want the guards to come here to arrest us! We can't wear it, fool! Everyone will see us and go and say we stole it." she shouted a few inches from the other's nose. Sometimes Flora had the impression that even if she had opened the head of that idiot of her sister with a hammer she wouldn't have managed to slip a little common sense into it.