My father looks at me with narrowed eyes; I can se the hatred oozing out of the dirty green slits. For a
moment, the house is still and no one dares to say anything.
“Mariella, listen to me!” My father roars; I glare at him
“I do not wish to hear what you have to tell me!” I yell back at him; everyone stares at me in horror. I have spoken out against my father at last. It feels so good, even though I know I shall be punished for my outspokenness.
“Faye, go and wait outside.” Father is breathing hard through his nose; the noise is enough to make my heart pump slightly faster. He knows I am afraid.
“The King is a good man!” I hiss as my father closes the door behind his wife; my eyes sting as my mother turns back and looks at me with fearful eyes. The door closes, and the light my mother emits is no longer reaching me – three inches of wood blocks me from my mother and any means of safe escape.
“Have you ever met the King personally, Mariella?” My father spits at me; I blink for a moment and am suddenly over-whelmed by how insignificant I am in God’s plan for the world.
“No, but neither have you! You have no right to make judgements upon a man chosen by God who you have never met!” I cry out; my father looks, for a moment, shame-faced. I know from fourteen years of living with this man that his heart is the coldest place upon the Earth.
“Mariella, you know full well that Oliver Cromwell is a decent man, who is intent on getting more power from the King so he can better England! Make life easier for the small people, the people like us!” My father bellows; dust shakes from the low ceiling of the living room and my heart jags slightly.
I miss my brother for a moment, before I realise that he would have immediately sided with our father. The traitor, I think spitefully. He went off to fight a war in a foreign country, killing people he does not know, and widowing women who may be just like mother. Fighting against the unjust system their husbands have forced them to obey and living forever in fear that her children may not come home one day. All this in the split of a second.
“Cromwell is selfish! He wants the power so that he can find himself a new bride who is wooed by his power over England and its people!” My worlds hurtle out of my mouth before I can stop them; father’s face pales as I speak of adultery.
“How…dare…you!” He staggers over his words; I stare at him with eyes like ice. “Everyone knows that Cromwell loves Lady Elizabeth!” Father says in a slightly calmer voice; as if he is relieved Cromwell’s wife loves him. I sigh and for a split second, the world seems calm and peaceful.
“Father, I do not wish to rip our family at the seams. I shall not fight you,” I sigh; I watch as my father’s eyes narrow, once again, to slits.
“What are the words that spew form your fowl mouth, Mariella? I understand the meaning of the words, and yet from your mouth they mean nothing.” He tells me; I look at him. My father, once a figure of pure terror in my life no longer means anything.
“I shall leave, Father.” I say slowly; I watch the evil glint I know so well light up in his eyes. “And I can assure you that neither you nor Mother shall every lay eye upon me again.” My promise rings true and bold throughout the house; I hear Mother whimper outside. I know for a fact that she does not will me to leave as Father does – she loves me.
I turn without uttering another word; but as my hand touches the smooth wood of the door that my brother made before he left to fight, I look at my father over my shoulder.
“Father, once there was a time where all I longed for was to please you and be the perfect daughter and make a pretty wife. I now see that the daughter you wanted shall never be the daughter you have, the veil that has covered my eyes has been lifted by God – he wills me to be myself. He wills me to not remain oppressed by you and your views. My soul has filled with peace, knowing that now you know how I have changed. Once I loved you Father, but the flame of a daughter’s love can be extinguished in a heartbeat by her father’s breathing. My heartbeat happened many years ago, and yet you did not notice. I shall pray that God lifts the veil over your eyes so that you may see the world as it is. That way, when you look yourself in the mirror, you shall see the horror I have had to overcome throughout my entire life. Until that time, I shall pray for your soul.” I say; amazed that I could ever have made such a beautiful speech at my departure. I push the door open and before I have time to gather my saddened thoughts and shove them aside, my mother envelopes me in her arms and I go numb. I cannot afford to attach myself to mother emotionally again. Not now I told my father that neither of them shall set eyes on me again.
“I have to leave,” I say flatly; the emotion bricks up in my throat. My mother looks at me; I know she knows how much pain this causes me – and I can tell that she does not wish to increase my burden.
“I understand Mariella, yet I do not wish this to be the end of our family.” She whispers against my hair; I feel my spine straighten. From now on, I am a single member of society – I have no family. As the wife of a Leper may declare herself a Widow as her husband is banished from the land, I shall declare myself no longer a member of the Lawson family. I shall become Mariella…I think for a moment. Mariella Rainbow? No, I scold myself, that is the name of a child and I simply cannot be a child any more. My heart sings and I suddenly know what my liberated name shall be. Mariella Heartsong. I walk out of the house, thinking to myself – have I ever really liked the name Mariella? I find myself straying towards the name Melaney Heartsong – it is a name I have always liked, and now I am liberated it seems only right. As I walk through the dirty streets of England, the sky begins to clear of clouds and the Sun shines warm upon me and my new identity. Melaney Heartsong. I am free and the fire in my belly shall pour through my soul. I shall pour my heart out to the skies and pray every night and be a good citizen.
I walk and my spirit soars; Melaney Heartsong. I roll the name around my mouth and the more I say it, the more it feels like the name my spirit wants. So, I walk through the town and it begins to dawn upon me that I have nowhere to go and no way to get there. Wherever there may be. The farther I walk, the more obvious the flaws in my plan become. I become wrapped in my thoughts of people I once knew that would be willing to take me in. But it that wise, I ask myself, to go to the people who know you and could tell your old life about your new life. You should not merge the life you once had with the pure life you are entering – the past always taints the present. My conscious rambles on, and I decide to ignore her for a while so I can try to organise my thoughts. I begin to feel cautiously optimistic; I can see my path, I can feel it in my heart, but I still do not know where it is or where it will lead me. Maybe that is the point, I begin to realise slowly, not knowing where it leads me is what makes me want to walk it – so I can know where I shall be and how I shall be. As this thought dances through my mind, I begin to believe it.
“Oi! Watch it!” Someone snaps angrily at me; I glance up and my heart stutters to a halt. I think I just walked into an angel, my conscience chokes; I agree with her silently. I look up at the man I have walked into. He looks at me. “Oh, I’m sorry,” He says; I smile faintly.
“It was my fault,” I admit; I laugh as he shakes his head ferociously.
“No, it was my fault entirely. I should have been paying more attention,” He says; I grin.
“I’m Ma-Melaney.” I catch my tongue before I say Mariella; he grins.
“Melaney what?” He enquires; I look at him for a moment.
“Melaney Heartsong.” I whisper; it feels as if a rope has been cut – I am free of my family now that I have someone who thinks I am Melaney Heartsong. Freedom pounds through my veins and I let out a jubilant laugh.
“Your spirit soars free,” He states; I blink in surprise. No one in the world I know says things like that – least of all to me. People think I will get ideas and become too spiritual and stray off the path of God. “Can you feel the clouds?” He murmurs; I take in a deep breath and heat shocks through me.
“Yes, I feel the clouds icy against the heat of my soul – it almost hurts, but the pain feels good.” I can hardly contain the shock that is running like a raging river through my body.
“I’m Oliver,” He says; I look at him with brightened eyes.
“Hello, Oliver.” I manage to gasp; he looks at me, clearly amused. I stumble slightly as he looks upwards and I feel my spirit begin to calm.
“Melaney, how old are you?” Oliver enquires; I think for a moment.
“Sixteen,” I lie; the less Oliver knows about me the better, I decide quickly.
“You look young for your age,” He states; I look at him.
“Thank you, now if you don’t mind, I would rather like to be on my way.” I try to move past him but he keeps moving in front of me; I begin to panic.
The sky darkens and rain begins to pour. Oliver looks at me and I begin to back away slowly; I refuse to move quickly. Aside from the fact that it will only alert him to my fear – I am terribly clumsy. I could probably kill someone. I glance over my shoulder and my heart lightens. My best friend stares back at me in surprise; her eyes snag Oliver and they widen, stunned.
“It’s me, Fuchsia! Laney,” I call; her eyes do not reveal her confusion or whatever she is feeling. She has a perfect mask, truth be told I am rather jealous of how easily all my friends can conceal things behind their faces – I need a mask that is invisible to the eye.
“Laney, who is this man?” Fuchsia asks crisply; I can see the sisterly love in her eyes. I look at Oliver – he looks just like the man who put me up in the sky and let me touch the clouds. My heart softens for a moment. There must be something about Oliver that will help me; it is destiny that I met Oliver today – the day I left home and became a completely different person, I agree with my conscience and I stare at Oliver long and hard.
“I just met your friend Melaney, she is a delightful character.” Oliver tells Fuchsia graciously; I can see Fuchsia’s eyes bug slightly.
“Yes, she certainly is a character and a half!” Fuchsia agrees; I can see her eyes glaze over and she falls over.
“Oh my God!” I scream as I fall to my knees beside Fuchsia; people around me glare so hard that their eyes burn against my skin.
“You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” A woman says furiously; I glare up at her as I try to get Fuchsia to talk.
“Who is to say that he is my Lord as well as yours?” I demand in a flare of anger; there is a sense of shock and horror – my words cause a ripple effect to the people around me. They are horrified by what I just said and I can see it in all their eyes.
“Melaney, you should not speak such vile!” Fuchsia manages to say; I stare at her in relief.
“Hey, Fuchsia.” I murmur; she looks at me and I can see a strange fog in her eyes. It frightens me. “Hey, Oliver, can you help me-” I turn around and gasp; Oliver is gone and there is no trace of him anywhere near by.
“Sorry Laney,” Fuchsia giggles as she gets up; I blink at her from down on the floor – Fuchsia never giggles. Like, ever! I try to unscramble the new mystery that has landed on top of me as I scramble to my feet and make sure Fuchsia doesn’t keel over. A man comes over to me and I breathe a sigh of relief as I realise that I am staring at Fuchsia’s husband, Damien. He also happens to be one of the nicest men I have ever met.
“Damien,” I hiss as Fuchsia sways; he catches her as she slips from my side. He looks terrified as Fuchsia’s eyes flash then drift shut; my heart thunders in my chest and I struggle against the tears and the fear that is welling up inside me.
“We need to get her home,” He murmurs; he is not really talking to me and I know it, but Fuchsia is one of my best chances of home.
I watch with moist eyes as Damien lifts his wife up, Fuchsia’s head is tilted up towards the sky with a peaceful expression playing around her lips and her eyes; her stick then calves dangle over Damien’s arms and her middle dips slightly. Damien strides off with Fuchsia in his arms, the perfect vision of love. My heart shatters. I follow silently; my eyes down and avoiding eye contact with the rest of the world. I know where Fuchsia and Damien live so I do not need to look up to see where Damien is walking. Nonetheless, when I hear Fuchsia’s distinct grumbling, my head snaps up.
“Fuchsia?” Damien whispers; Fuchsia looks at him with utterly vacant eyes.
“Damien?” Her voice is weary, as if her youth is an illusion and her heart and soul are as old as the trees and the Earth; you can almost see Damien blanch.
“Fuchsia, how are you?” I demand; Damien glare’s at me and I can tell that he thinks that this is my fault. Whatever this is. Fuchsia looks at me and her eyes roll back in her head; the whites stare at me as if they can actually see. Damien looks at her nervously whilst the people around us gasp in horror. The worst word possible ripples around us. Witchcraft! My heart thuds in the back of my throat and I panic – the last thing any of us needs right now is to be accused of witchcraft. Fuchsia begins to jerk around spasmodically in Damien’s arms. They’re accusing you, idiot! My conscience snaps irritably; I wish I could shove her voice aside, even though I know that she is right.
Fuchsia goes still for a moment then takes in a deep shuddering breath and her mouth quivers.
“The world is going to split, innocent blood shall be spilt…the country is dividing – the evidence is all around you.” Fuchsia’s voice is grave and sounds nothing like her; is this my punishment for turning against God? I ask my conscience nervously; I can almost hear her rolling her eyes.
“She’s a witch!” People scream; I struggle to not roll my eyes. Fuchsia is not a witch; she couldn’t be even if she tried! I can see Damien’s hatred for these people welling up deep inside and I begin to feel nervous. Damien is not fun when he is angry. Especially if he is as afraid for his beloved wife as he clearly is. This might not be pretty. Not for the first time in history, Damien surprises me. He takes a deep breath and stares at Fuchsia; pain flashes through his eyes and he suppresses his anger and his hatred. I know that Damien does not particularly like me, but since Fuchsia thinks of me as a sister, he puts up with me.
“I’m taking Fuchsia home, are you coming with me?” He enquires under his breath; I look at him with tears in my eyes. I always get a strange feeling around Damien, and I am not really use what it is. I have always felt it, but I have never been able to put my finger on it.
I nod, “Yeah, I’m coming.” I murmur; he nods and we walk up to their shared home. More of a home than mine had ever been, I think sadly; Damien seems to pick up a strange vibe from me and asks me about my family. My mother’s beautiful face drifts before my eyes and I can feel my heart twitching with an ache to talk to my mother. She would know what to do, I think tiredly; my eyes feel as if they are made from sand.
“I left home,” I tell him quietly; Damien moves Fuchsia gently so he does not drop her. He smiles at me sadly, something I have never seen him do.
“You and your father?” He guesses; I sigh. I guess Fuchsia told Damien about how badly fights at my house had been getting. He sees me looking at Fuchsia and tightens his grip on her as if he worries my eyes will hurt her. I have to admit that Fuchsia looks so fragile now that my eyes might actually hurt her. Then again, considering I look more like a pixie than a person, I am really short, and I mean short! Everyone around me is taller than by head, shoulders and chest. I come up to most people stomachs, which is embarrassing a lot of the time. I have curly rich auburn hair that stops around my shoulder blades and sun-kisses sprinkled along my nose and cheeks. I look cute, as Fuchsia always tells me. She calls me her Fairy God-Sister.
“Yeah, he thinks the King is a bad man, but I don’t want to believe it. Someone who has such power cannot be all bad.” I say as we turn into their road; Damien snorts and I groan. Damien is against the King as well. Perfect, I think angrily at my conscience, her annoyance at me is tangible – how would I know? She snaps at me; we snap at each other until I walk into a wall and fall over. “Oww,” I mutter before my eyes flutter shut.
When I wake up, I can sense that I am in a different place from where I fell. The ground feels different, softer. I decide that it is best not to open my eyes quite yet – something does not feel right.
“I don’t have the money to pay it yet!” I hear Damien hiss; I suppress the urge to arch my eyebrows.
“You need to pay the Ship Tax,” An unfamiliar, but unfriendly, voice snaps heartlessly; my heart ices over as I remember the Ship Tax. It’s a ridiculous tax the King has enforced; we have to give our money to fund a war against the country of his wife’s birth. I may not agree with my father that the King is a bad man, but I certainly agree that some of his decisions have been…unwise. I close my eyes and ignore the frustrating amount of arguing and thudding I can hear.
“Listen,” Damien snaps; what he says next warms my heart. “I love her, you can’t have her. I don’t care how much money I am indebted, you can’t have her!” Damien argues; his voice is quiet, but I know that when his voice is quiet, he is not open to negotiation.
“We need you to pay it somehow and in these difficult times, anything can be used.” The heartless man says; I peek from under my thick dark lashes and watch Damien’s nostrils flare.
“No,” He repeats firmly; the man looks at Fuchsia sadly and then at me. “Leave,” Damien says in a deadly quiet voice, “Now.” He adds when the tax collector does not move.
I flutter my eyes slightly when Damien sits on Fuchsia’s bed; I am not sure if I am about to interrupt a special moment between my best friend and the love of her life. Damien strokes her face and I can feel conflict radiating from deep inside him. Tension is built up in his shoulders and I want to comfort him, even though he does not really know me or enjoy my company. Then why are you in his house? My conscience demands; I wish I could sew her mouth shut sometimes.
“I know you are awake, Mariella.” Damien says in a struggling voice; at the sound of my real name, my heart turns to ice.
“I’m Melaney now,” I whisper; Damien turns in surprise. “I couldn’t rise my dad looking for me,” Pain flashes across my face before I can hide it.
“Or your mother,” Damien murmurs; I block the tears – Damien does not need the stress of a weeping woman to deal with on top of Fuchsia.
“I can’t let her see me, I need to start over.” I say; I sound stronger than I feel.
“You’re brave, Mariella. I didn’t think you could do this,” Damien tells me; I stare at him in confusion.
“But I didn’t know this was going to happen Damien…it just did.” I can feel my voice shake; I hope Damien does not notice.
“The country is dividing, Mariella. You are proof. Families are being torn apart and friends are starting to turn against each other. I believe what Fuchsia said today – even if it was under…strange…circumstances.” I can see Damien struggle to talk about what happened today; Fuchsia groans from behind Damien and his attention is completely occupied. I really do think it is sweet how much he loves Fuchsia, I really do, but my heart aches when I realise that I will never have the love that he feels for Fuchsia and she feels for him. I can feel my heart shatter inside me.
I sit up and pull my knees up under my chin. I watch as Damien tries to get Fuchsia to remember what she said…my heart sinks as I realise she has no idea what he is talking about.
“Mariella?” Fuchsia asks; I look at her and feel a pang for my old life. It was so simple…except from your father, my conscience reminds me. As I think of my father, anger wells inside of me and burns, my blood turns to fire. My vision is stained with red the colour of blood and I find myself balling my hands into fists. My hands shake and I try not to blow my eyeballs up.
“Mariella, are you okay?” Damien sounds worried; I look at him with a hatred not meant for him to see or suffer.
“I’m fine,” I say through clenched teeth; Fuchsia looks at me with confused eyes.
“Mariella? You look angry,” She says; her weak voice makes my heart melt. I rush over to her ignoring the weird feeling of wool in my head.
“I’m not angry Fuchsia, promise,” I plaster a natural looking smile to my face; Fuchsia falls for it like she always does. Damien and I spend the rest of the day trying to calm Fuchsia down and try to get her to think back to The Incident. We are both worried when she genuinely has no idea what we are talking about.
Before Damien and I can be too stressed out, we hear it. News that will shatter out world forever and change England forever. War has torn through England; it is at war against itself. Fuchsia begins to drift back into her trance-like state as I chew worriedly on my bottom lip – I do not feel it as if starts to bleed.
“Don’t,” Damien mutters without thinking; he touches my lip and immediately my teeth release. I stare at Damien for a moment and he stare back.
“Sorry,” I murmur; he looks at me with soft eyes.
“There’s something unique about you, Mariella Lawson. And I cannot place it.” He tells me; my heart aches in my chest. “Maybe it is the heart you posses, that of a lion? Or your strength, that of an ox…or maybe your grace? That of a deer. Or am I simply captivated by your beauty?” Damien’s voice is soft; I look at him and my heart begins to weep. “When you arrived at my wedding and you rushed over to Fuchsia, your shiny hair glinting in the light and your eyes so bright, like stars against the velvet of the night sky, and your pretty little dress that made you look more like an angel than a mere mortal. I knew that it was my destiny, my duty, to protect you, not Fuchsia. My heart was wilting as I saw Fuchsia coming down to me, her smile was not as bright or as illuminating as yours, Mariella. Yours gave me the reason the Sun came up every morning. Moreover, when I saw you, beaming at your friend and silently urging her forwards, I felt like a lost soul. I coveted your love so badly, and as I married your best friend, I wanted to throw myself off a cliff and be done with it!” Damien looks at me with burning eyes; I think I’m going to faint, my conscience mutters. If you do, I threaten, you die.
“And having to see you all the time, with Fuchsia and smiling when she told stories of our beautiful marriage, I saw the pain flash through your eyes. That was when I realised that Fate had tricked us both. We were both at the wrong place at the wrong time, if Fate had dealt us a different hand, we would have been together Mariella. We would have had the perfect life,” Damien tells me; my heart shifts.
“Don’t tell me this, Damien.” I mange to choke through the tears that threaten to overwhelm me; his eyes dim slightly. “I love you Damien, and I hate that I only realise this now, when our world is shifting and ever changing, and I fear not for the better. I have to handle what Fate has dealt me, and so must you. Fate meant for this to happen Damien, but we cannot love one another. Not when Fuchsia loves us both and we both love her in our separate ways,” I tell him; I can see my reason working on him and I see his heart break inside him.
“I love you Mariella,” He whispers; I press my lips together and try not to let the words building up in my heart explode from my lips.
I cannot hold it in. “I love you too, Damien. Even so, I love Fuchsia more – she needs you so much more than I do. I may look small and weak and helpless – but I can look after myself. Fuchsia can’t, and after today, I don’t think she should be expected to!” I tell him; we both look at Fuchsia, the one person in the way of our love. I wonder for a moment, what life with Damien would be like. I shake my head, if I go down that road I shall never return and I know it.
“Fate is cruel to the small people,” Damien says simply; I look at him and I see why Fuchsia loves him so much.
“I shall leave now,” I promise; Damien looks like a wounded child, but he says nothing.
Three Years Later…
I cannot believe how terrible a place England has turned into. Blood spills everywhere, over small things that people would have once overlooked. I stare out of my small house, it may not be much, but it is mine and I own it. Parliament have the people on their side, because the people put them there, but Charles I has the Divine Right of Kings. Charles has destroyed lives and all for his greed for power and control over everyone in England. If God truly did choose him, then God must be loathing himself for making such an idiotic mistake. I have seen rich people amongst the poor, trying to get away from the horrors England now beholds.
Families have been ripped to shreds.
Friends now hate each other.
Neighbours are suspicious and no one trusts any more.
The country has divided, and no one knows how it shall end. Yu cannot leave your home without fearing for your life and the lives of those around you. I live far away from where I used to and I am now Melaney Heartsong, free and independent. Oh, and did I mention married?