"...your name came to me eerily as a whisper; resembling at first the ever so slight rustling of leaves as heard from a distance, carried faintly on the wind...but then as a banshee,* swiftly roaring forward, screaming, there only to hang and linger about me, resonantly drawing breath through the length of your name, till then exhaled upon its hissing end: Eeee-lihhh-ssss. I sought to flee the unseen voice, which repeatedly echoed your name and haunted my existence in hope to safeguard you: Eliassss. The presence sought what I would not yield: you. I wished to keep you always, as my little one, I failed, and mourn still that it was otherwise.
"Unforgettably, my ears had captured its craving desire," Mother sighs, "but unkowingly, it was my heart, which failed to capture yours. You were my first...I had had no others...and still I suffer longingly...for...you...my...beautiful...well-read child. Well-read? Most assuredly so. Books of all types were your treasures. How both your father and I marveled at your gift to understand writing in whatever form presented to you.
"Oddly, it was from one book which you had discerned your name, for to you, your name, had become a quest, into which you readily delved. Though you were not, your name is from the Hebrew...Eliyyahu...meaning..."My God...is...YAHWEH." You declared it so and accepted it as a statement of fact in itself, stating that it was another name of God. Then with endearing mirth would conclude, "Mother, my name is but an anagram, expanded from four letters, YHWH.**
"Though you were not a solitary child, Elias, you shunned me, often; even my attempts to embrace you provoked fright. Even more so, when I innocently approached you unaware, if only to speak kindly, repeatedly, you would cringe, as if I were a shadow, the forerunner of doom; or flinch, as expecting to be hardheartedly cuffed about the head.
"How can I fail to remember, the betrayed and hurt look in your eyes, each time you looked at my face, that yours became so pained, causing even your pert lips to tremble and teeth to chatter? There were no sweet tears of joy with my embrace for either of us, for, to you, even my touch was distasteful and barely tolerable. You had become my bitter sweet, what I sought to hold close would move no closer.
"Nor can I forget the countless morning hours you spent primming to your reflection in my mirror; and each time I thought you vain. Yet on each occasion, you would tilt your pretty head and if only for a moment, smile, and with a lilt in your voice, speak to me as if spellbound, entranced from a place, far away. I have kept in mind that apart from the last occasion, that our conversations, most often were the same and that I would feign to appear imposed upon and so begin by asking, "Elias, are you looking at yourself...again? One would think the mirror is yours instead of mine." As always, you perceived my shallow pretense of annoyance was but a facade and would pleasantly reply, "Yes Mother, I have been fair caught...again." Then I would follow with, "Why do you always...gaze intently at yourself in MY looking-glass?"
Mother pauses for the moment. It is the cue, for which Elias has waited. The stage is shared as we speak.
"Because Mother, it is unusual and with study always shows me what I wish to see."
Elias' noticeably soft and enchanting English accented schoolchild voice has captured Mother's presence. Upon hearing our voice, Mother's eye's open wider, but the conversation continues as though time as come full circle (however this time, it is Joachem, who chides us as to the colloquialism).
Softly Mother replies and continues to play the game, "Ohhh, how strange that I see only you. So now, pray tell, Elias, what is unusual and extraordinary, that you study and wish to see, and are all that you gaze into with intent alike?"
Our proper reply is as it was then, "Ohhh, Mother, please, do not be silly. You know full well, not all are alike, for each is different and will only show a moment of time, while in yours each reflection varies as the eyes that I am, peer back and change as do the times of day. Besides, you know full well, the face most often seen is always the same, I see the four faces of me: me, the young warrior long past, me as I am to be lifted from the ruins of what is to come, and me, as I look at what shall be my sister's pretty face, whilst she looks at mine. All of our faces are identical and impossible..."
Mother interjects as always, "Yes, of course, and as always, they are impossible to tell apart. But today Elias...what of the fourth? What has become of your face of today? Why today have you ommited yourself my pretty?"
Our reply is forthright, "Epeidthe simera, Metera, eime ektos apo me, to prosopo then eine simera pleon ormorpho. To prosopo pou vlepei Elias eine simera aimatero." (Because today, Mother, I am beside myself, the face today is no longer pretty. The face seen of Elias today is blood-splattered.)
Anxious, and seemingly put out, she continues, "Elias, please do not create any more stories. Your treasured books have always given you nightmares and the result when you grow anxious or slumber is discomforting to us both."
Matter-of-factly we reply, "Yes Mother, but I am telling you the truth. Moreover, there will be no next time for you to ask me to refrain, regardless of how many spankings you may wish to dole out for either."
Angered she replies, "Elias, must you always speak in riddles and be so cheeky?"
With certainty we retort, "Mother, I am neither impolite nor rude, I am telling you the truth, honestly. Besides, I know things that you do not, but I shan't tell you!"
The encounter proceeds. "You will not tell ME, your Mother, WHY?"
Our moody reply to let the matter drop all but guarantees her response, "Puisque, a temps, vous devez decouvrir pour vous-meme, mais jusqu'a puis, quelques choses sont unspoken mieux." (Because, in time, you must find out for yourself, but until then, some things are best unspoken.)However,truthfully, in thought, Elias giggling refers to it as his first...French-kiss off. Of course, Mother, ever in for a penny is now in for a pound, and yes, she's pissed off.
"Elias, that is quite enough. Shall I cut another switch to lay on to your bottom, or shall I leave that for the last of your household tasks for the day?"
Elias plays the part as memorized, raising chin, then sniffing once, grimacing while he turns his face away, as the unforgettable stench of the privy is brought again to mind. Scornfully he replies, "Mother, if I HAD a choice, I would gladly cut it myself and spare YOU the burden. Sadly, today however, neither your hand nor my tasks will end as you imagine. Between the TWO of us, I PROMISE, this WILL be our last conversation on this matter."
Reluctantly, Mother understands the inevitable memory shall occur. Hesitantly, she proceeds. "Our...last?" Elias, why do you promise this?" Pensively Mother waits the dreaded reply.
"Because Mother, today is a good day to die. Nevertheless, before it is time, I have a gift for you, actually several, but then again, I see, you have found the first and have willingly taken it."
Before Mother can speak, we place the first finger of our right hand gently upon her lips, again of course, it is the sign language to not say a word and just listen. All within and I muse that amazingly, even grown-ups know this sign and sometimes, though not often, over a certain period (of time) do as they are told!
Elias speaks, "Mother, as Father traded within the walls of Crown Point, I bartered there as well. I sought a gift for you. However, in all honesty, I fared better than she whom I encountered in the bargaining did. Truthfully, the bargain was one sided.
"Before I entered the forts gates, I walked the narrows,*** stopping occasionally to gaze at the goods and wares among the tents and stalls of the traders and tin knockers. As I went from stall to tent, I noticed an imposing young woman of stature clothed in white,who intently watched me as I approached her station. Mother, as I drew near, she called me by name, and beckoned several others and me to her side, introducing herself as, Mademoiselle Victoire (veek-twar), the protege of Monsieur Nicolas Bion, the renowned instrument maker of the Royal Court. She stated she was expressly on assignment in his behalf to the Illinois Country and had paused here on her journey to Kebec^ to refresh herself.
"A bench at the entrance to her pavilion displayed various trinkets, most common and of little worth which she presumed to peddle. As I searched the table, inquiring if she had brought any globes or other mathematical instruments along with her from which I might select, I was met with silence. She then murmured to herself and apologized; claiming he had made no mention of these items as a contingency of her assignment; then brushed the matter aside as an oversight, stating that she would speak to him when she returned.
"I was disappointed but further inquired, if there were any other articles, which she might offer, aside from what was displayed; as all were visible save one article, which she had covered in sackcloth.**** With her silence, I turned to walk away as nothing else she had sparked my attention. As I moved away, she called to me once more. Mother, as I turned to face her, she lifted the sackcloth from the bench revealing to me what lay hidden. Mother...at first sight...I became captivated!
"There Mademoiselle Victoire presented to most and I, what she claimed as the most recent of his unique undertakings; a new item, a special quill with nibs of metal. She was willing to barter and stated that one would need to provide but one item, which only she considered of value, to obtain the item in exchange.
"In the midst of thought as to what possibly I had of worth to offer for such an item, she further expanded upon the proposal, by stating that to seal the trade, that there were two, identical others, though all three, could be taken for the price of one.
"Mother...please...you have often thrashed me for what you consider lies, regardless of circ-umstance. Please, do not act with haste, but listen, for now you will have reason to doubt me, but what I shall tell you is the truth. Mother, may I?" Again, the nod is given, however, this time, she understands.
"Before I could reply, to my amazement, she waived her hand, as one would shoo a fly, vanishing all who had surrounded me, into thin air, stating that she would deal only with me. Mother, there I stood facing her afraid to move as she beckoned me closer; fearing she would dispose of me as well. I would have skedaddled but strangely felt obligated to remain, while staring longingly, at the object she now held and tenderly caressed in her hands.
"Mother, I must tell you a secret. May I?" The nod is given and Elias immediately replies. "Truthfully, I felt each caress, but even so, I did not move towards her. It was she, who approached, not walking, but rather as a bird on wind, only inches above the ground, moving smoothly towards me. And as she did, she extolled their virtues, claiming the outer blue shells, that while similar, each, was unique in itself.
"As you can see Mother, the outer shell contains three separate filigreed inlays of amber running the length of its shaft to join in a band at the nib. And look Mother, the two sculpted ivory letters are most unique for when pressed they move, allowing sepia to either flow or end.
"Mother, there is more to the secret; I knew she was not a protege of Monsieur Bion, for she was far to young to have fashioned the fine piece, which she held, let alone,two others. Besides, her spoken French was dreadfully poor, as was her knowledge of history, especially concerning his works in the use of celestial and terrestrial globes of which we spoke in passing. But more to the point Mother, Monsieur Bion had illustrated this device fifty-two years prior and unless she speaks with those beyond the grave and no longer of this world, she will not speak with him again for Monsieur Bion died; twenty-one years past.
"Mother, the last of the secret is that...
*Banshee-In Gaelic folklore, the black shrouded spirit of death, a terrifying woman, who appears to howl and wail, to signal that somebody in the household is going to die.
**YHWH-The Tetragrammaton-Tetra is the Greek word meaning, four. Gramma, also Greek in origin, means letters.
***Narrows-refers to where the banks of a river come closer to one another
^Kebec-is an Algonquin word for where the river narrows and for Quebec.
****Sackclothe-Clothes were made from this as a sign of mourning over evils and falsities, humiliation, repentance or penitence.
Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Topic: Promises, Obligations and Consequences (Read 144399 times)
