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Charcoal Drawings (Chapter 2)
Friday, January 20, 2012

Charcoal Drawings: Chapter 2 by Fathiah Zarafi


Crickets sung in the night, filling in the heavy silence. Beneath the curtain of black covering the skies, Alys laid wide awake. Her eyes flickered upwards to study the diamonds glittering in the sky through a small window. Nights like this, when it seems like she was the only person alive, caused her frame to quiver with fear. Fear of the unknown. Alys knew that the villagers had nothing but hatred for her. They would like nothing more than to have her burnt at the stake. The endless taunting and abuse to her body made it seemed as if she was already approaching her death.

Alys closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cold wall. She wanted desperately to fall into a dreamless sleep but the stinging pain in her stomach kept her awake. Her eyes fluttered open to stare at the heavily-shackled door. She has never felt more alone and her vision of Berta's death only worsened the situation. Blinking back tears, Alys slid down on the hard pallet and pulled her legs up to her chest to curb away the chilly air.

Only when the golden rays had peaked shyly at the dark sky did the guards slid the bolts away from her door. With a heavy sigh, Alys pushed herself up onto her bare feet and silently padded to the door. And so her morning routine began, starting at the washroom. Her fingers slowly began peeling back the dirty cloth from her body when her eyes locked with Berta. The older woman, already washed, scurried over to Alys.

Berta's eyes were filled with worry, Alys noted. "Alys dear, have you broken fast yet?" she asked with concern.

At the question, Alys was painfully aware of how her stomach was protesting in hunger. She was starved off food since last morning by the guards. "No, I have not but it is fine—"

Berta quickly cut her off. "Nonsense! I did not catch even a glimpse of you during lunch and supper last sunrise. You must be famished."

The woman dug her hands into a worn pouch tied to her waist and brought forth two rolls of bread. "I could only smuggle these during breaking of fast. It is not much but it would last you until midday."

Hastily murmuring a thank you, Alys accepted the bread gratefully. She practically inhaled the food, trying to fulfill her hunger. Berta was right; the small rolls of bread weren't enough. Her stomach still felt empty but the stabbing pain was now gone.

"Go and wash up now, or you will be late," Berta ushered her to an empty stool. Once again offering the woman a grateful smile, Alys resumed her morning rituals.

She was in the midst of securing her long locks with a braid when a guard knocked heavily on the washroom's door, startling some of the remaing slaves inside.

"Hurry up, slaves! The new master is approaching!" the guard barked. The women scrambled to finish their cleansing. Alys pushed her bangs aside and exited the washroom. She was eager to meet the new bastard who would once again mistreat them all.

Alys rubbed her arms slightly when she shivered due to the cold air in the foyer. She stood near the back wall as slaves slowly filtered in. But unlike last night, not even a whisper was heard uttered from the slaves' mouths. The pin drop silence further increased the tense atmosphere in the room.

The sun rose higher up in the sky. Not even a glimpse of the new master was seen. The agitation felt by the slaves was evident by the way they shuffled their feet back and forth and releasing a quiet sigh every now and then. Even the guards grew weary of waiting. They started chatting idly with each other, relaxing their previously vigilant stance.

Feet aching, Alys leaned against the wall to ease some of the pressure off of her soles. Her head bowed when her mind began wandering back to the times when she was happy.  She could still recall vividly when she had her first vision. It was a fire that will destroy a family's house and rob them off their only child. Until now, Alys still felt guilty for her inability to save the little baby even though her mother had repeatedly told her that she was still young and confused with her gift.

The silence in the hall was shattered by the sound of heavy footsteps and guards shuffling back to their positions. The new master has arrived. With a heavy sigh, Alys raised her head and waited for his arrival. Two guards pulled open the heavy oak doors.

"Lord Bartholomew has arrived!" they bellowed.

Alys rose on the tip of her toes to peer above the crowd. Her body froze at the sight that greeted her eyes. Lord Bartholomew stood proudly in front of the slaves, his chest puffed out as a sign of arrogance. Thick, brown moustache covered the top of his lip and curled at the tip. But the one long scar going down his left eye was what shocked Alys the most.

"Berta's killer," she breathed. Her trembling fingers unconsciously tightened into fists.

Lord Bartholomew stepped up onto the makeshift podium. With one hand resting on his walking stick and the other on top of it, his posture sent out a proud yet an audacity aura.

He took a quick glance at the slaves before speaking up. "As you have been informed, I am Lord Bartholomew and I will be your new master as of today."

Alys' knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists tightly. She stood frozen as she witnessed the man from her vision spoke to the crowd. His voice was teemed with confidence.

"Fret not, my fellow slaves. I have been informed about the rough handling of the previous owner and his common mistreatment." Lord Bartholomew smirked, "Rest assured that I am nothing like him. Torturing of slaves will not be tolerated in this building—"

The rest of his words were droned out by Alys. When the words 'torturing of slaves' were uttered, images of her vision flashed before her eyes. Bruised skin and splatters of blood seemed to dance its way across her view. For a moment, all she could see was white hot rage. The man was trying to fool all of them!

Alys' lips seemed to move on their own accord, mouthing out a word before she could think clearly. "Lies," she choked out. Her voice was feeble but in the pin drop silence of the hall, it was as if she had screamed the word.

Lord Bartholomew's welcoming speech came to a screeching halt. He cleared his throat, eyes searching the back of the hall for the source of the voice. "I beg your pardon?"

Releasing a shaky breath, Alys stepped into his line of view. Upon sighting her, his face immediately hardened. She saw his lips move discreetly to mouth the word demon. Her hatred for the man grew tenfold.

"I said," she raised her voice, "that you were spewing out nothing but lies."

A few women released shocked gasps at her outburst, and the silence in the room was broken by murmurs and chants of the occupants in the hall. Lord Bartholomew's face slowly turned red from anger.

He tried to speak normally through gritted teeth. "And what, pray tell, made you come to that conclusion, girl?"

"I just know," Alys replied simply. The man before her suddenly burst into laughter. People stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and fear. Disbelief over his unexpected reaction, and fear over his mental state.

He descended the stairs with grace, his shoulders still shaking from laughter. "Allow me to guess. You 'foresaw' me," he chuckled, "doing unholy things. Did you not, little demon?"

Alys' fists shook as anger welled up inside of her. "You have no right to call me that," she hissed.

The man stopped his strides within a few feet of her. A crooked smirk adorned his lips as he eyed her form. "Oh but you are one. Predicting the future and what not," he narrowed his eyes. "Not to mention, killing your own dear sister."

Her eyes widened in shock momentarily before she ducked her head, shielding them from view. The stunned onlookers could see tremors running through her body. Bartholomew merely raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"I did not kill her," Alys muttered. She raised her head, revealing blue orbs burning with ire. "Do not flap your gums as if you know everything when in fact, you and this whole damn village know nothing of me!"

Bartholomew sneered at the girl with disgust. "Very well. Let me play along then and make your 'vision' come true."

Before she knew it, armored guards were flocking around her and restraining her arms behind her back painfully. Alys struggled against their grip but her petite form was overpowered by the heavily-built men. Bartholomew bent down so he was eye level with her and leered.

"Take her to the dungeons for punishment. I do not tolerate insolence," he ordered the guards darkly.

With a rough shove that sent her stumbling, Alys was forced by the guards to walk through the gaping crowd. None of them dared to say anything, opting instead to cower away from her as if she was diseased. I wish I was diseased instead, she thought bitterly, because then I can find a cure for this.

"Stop! Please stop this instant!"

Their steps faltered and stopped at the familiar voice. Alys managed to twist in the hold of the guard to face the equally stunned crowd. Her eyes widened at the sight of Berta running towards them. With her skirt hitched, she desperately pushed through the slaves to reach them. Bartholomew, who was trailing behind them, studied the scene with keen interest.

Upon reaching the lord, Berta dropped to her knees. "Please my lord, do not punish her, for she is still a naïve young girl," she begged. "She made a mistake just like any younglings do. Please forgive her."

Bartholomew pretended to consider her, rubbing his thick moustache with a finger. "I am not certain I can grant your request, slave. If I release this chit, then I will not have anyone to release my anger upon and this demon has made me very, very angry."

"Then take me as her replacement," Berta replied without a second of hesitation.

"No," Alys shook her head, her face contorted in shock. "No, Berta, stop this! You cannot possibly—" she was forcibly pulled back when she tried to step forward.

The man smiled leeringly. He glanced at Alys through the corner of his eyes briefly before meeting the eyes of the guard restraining her. "Release the demon. Take this woman instead," he barked.

Alys grunted in pain as she fell unceremoniously to the ground by the force of the guard thrusting her forward. Quickly pushing black hair away from her face, she stared in fright as Berta was escorted out of the hall. Springing to her feet, Alys tried to chase after them, only to run smack into another guard.

"Berta, no!" she screamed. "Come back, do not do this! Stop!"

In a bid to reach her, Alys reared back and threw a punch on the guard's uncovered face. He groaned at the pain of the impact, and staggered a few steps back. She slipped past the man and ran towards the door.

"Berta! Do not do it!" Alys yelled. Berta turned her head towards her and offered her a sad smile before completely disappearing behind the door.

Alys wretched the door open, ignoring the angry hollers of Bartholomew behind her. She began chasing after the retreating form of the older woman, in hopes of stopping this madness. As Berta rounded a corner, hands grabbed at Alys and pulled her back.

"Unhand, you bastards!" Alys kicked and punched, and even bit at the guards trying to hold her back. Bartholomew approached them, glaring at the struggles she was putting up.

"Lock her in the underground room! I have had enough of this demon," he spat harshly. Alys stopped the scuffling to glare back at him.

"You are nothing more than a lowly son of a—"

Those were all she managed to yelled out before a guard brought down his fist to her temple, resulting in her lost of consciousness.

________________________________________________________________


It was dark when Alys regained her bearings. Not the usual dark that came when the sun sets beneath the horizon, no, this darkness was even thicker. There was not even a small ray of light in the room to aid her vision. She pushed herself up and winced as her head began to throb.

That was a really hard hit, Alys noted as her fingers lightly skimmed her left right temple. She gripped at the cold wall behind her to hoist herself up, nearly yelping when she touched what felt like moss. Her knees trembled beneath her for a while. Inhaling deeply to compose herself, she threw her hands in front of her and started walking forward.

Blinded by the darkness, Alys could only grope the air to prevent herself from running into a wall. When her hands touched another wall, she flattened her palm against it and started search for a sign of an exit. Alys began walking again in that manner when she felt metal beneath her fingertips.

A door handle! she was quite taken aback when the door opened with a weak tug. No locks, no restraints, no guards. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Alys stepped out of the room. She waited until her eyes adjusted to the lights of the torches before running towards the dungeons.

Alys ran down the hollow corridor, up steep stairs until she reached a dimly lit corridor. Which way now? Alys thought as she panted. Her question was answered when a scream echoed in the corridor. It was Berta's, she knew. Alys sprinted in the direction of the scream, all the while praying that it was still not too late. Berta's voice got louder with each step and Alys could feel the panic rising in her chest.

Upon reaching the door that holds Berta behind it, the younger girl began pounding on the wood. "Berta! Berta, hold on!" Alys pleaded. "I will get you out of there!"

She started ramming into the door with her shoulder, hoping that the force would be enough to knock it down. However, just after two tries, a blood curling scream escaped from the room. Alys halted all movements.

"Berta?" she called in shock. "Berta, please respond. Please say something!"

Stray tears fell from her eyes as she fell to her knees. No, she cannot be dead, no! "Berta!" her voice quivered. The door that she was trying to knock down swung open. Bartholomew stepped out along with a flack of guards and locked eyes with Alys on the ground.

"Why?" she whispered questioningly, staring at him with tear-filled eyes. The man smirked.

"Because I can." With a swish of his cloak, Bartholomew brushed passed the shaking girl. "Take her back to the underground room," he ordered the guards standing by the door. "And dispose of the body."

Alys buried her face into her palms as she sobbed. Her lithe figure shook with the tremor of her sobs. She didn't resist when she was pulled to her feet. "You heard the master, back to the room!"

"Wait!" choked out Alys. "At least—at least let me see her, for the last time."

The young guard's hardened face faltered for a moment. "Her body—is not in a condition for viewing," he explained quickly.

She shook her head. "I don't care. I need to see her for the last time, please."

With a loud groan, the guard led her into the room. Alys tried hard not to notice the torture equipments hanging on the walls, some of it still dripping blood. She shakily made her way to the body lying on a stone table, covered by an old rag. Alys had to fight the urge to gag at the sight of blood staining the rag whole.

Her fingers quivered as she pulled back the rag to reveal her face. Fresh tears ran down Alys' already wet cheeks. She gingerly closed Berta's eyes with her fingertips before kneeling down next to her.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Alys cried out. "This was my fault. Please forgive me, please."

She buried her face into the woman's hair and let her tears mingle with the blood.

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