Paper Boats
The countryside wasn't a lonely place, Sol's mother had promised. Yet, everything Sol spied outside the carriage window contradicted that. Fields of wheat swayed in the faint breeze, rolling green hills shimmered and the great oaks sighed just as he did.
Nothing. Nothing but cows, sheep and horses.
"There's no-one out here to play with." Sol pouted, his watery blue eyes turning a shade darker as he turned away from the sunlight that poured through the black curtained window. The boy was of an average size for an eight year old, lanky and his cheeks speckled with light freckles, his mop of honey-blonde hair in a thick tangle, dangling over his eyes. His eyes shimmered like clear beach water in the midday light, pools of curiosity and boredom at the same time as he stared out into the thicket of brush and oaks, wondering what wicked monsters and cackling witches it held.
His mother, a thin, sad yet kind eyed woman smiled and assured him, “There’s another boy your age at the house, dear. The caretakers son and his family live on the farm nearby.”
She almost looked like she might cry, but Sol knew she was happy to be here, away from the city. These days she always looked more sad than happy, as her and father began to sleep in separate beds and sit farther and farther apart at the dining room table. It had been her father’s idea, to go to their country house for the spring. Sol’s father, Tobias Ashford was a stout, broad shouldered and brown haired businessman. They weren’t close by any means, but he certainly cared for his family, but Sol was certain he just didn’t quite know how to show he cared.
Despite his shaggy hair already in an unruly mess, his father decided to tussle it in an awkward manner. He seemed almost hesitant, but Sol gave him a wide, white-toothed goofy grin and his father replied with a crooked half smile.
The carriage bumped and occasionally bounced them side to side as two twin black destriers pulled the carriage along the deep ruts in the fissured, lonesome country road. After another hour of staring out the open air window and imagining what it would be like to actually ride a horse instead of being boxed up like this. Sol imagined that he was taller, faster and stronger than that of any human, and that he ran through the fields, outrunning the carriage and the horses and even the rabbits in their warrens, darting through the treetops and soaring through the skies…but these thoughts were quickly cut short when the manor came into view.
It stood at three stories tall, primarily cream colored and dark, cedar wood framed house, the left covered in a vine lattice overrun with a blue blossom vine. Sol could even hear the faint babble of a creek over the clop of the horses hooves and rattle of the four wooden wheels. Two cobblestone, crumbling dwarf walls bordered the dusty dirt road that led past the black gate and into the courtyard, centered with a fountain. The gate doors were opened by a quaint looking man with black hair and odd, yellowish eyes, that Sol assumed was the caretaker by the look of his raggedy, linen undershirt.
As the carriage drew closer trotted around the fountain and surrounding circle of perfectly clipped grass, Sol rushed to the other window and stared in a wondrous fixation at the statue of a weeping, hooded woman, her face covered by her palms as they wiped away the granite tears. The statue looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned for some time, despite the rest of the manor ground in perfect condition, as the statue crevices and folds were covered with a substance of dirt or moss.
His mother quickly hurried him outside the carriage, the door having been opened by the caretaker man, who offered them all a kind smile as he helped the lady down. With his blue petticoat, trousers and green undershirt and those fancy shoes his mother had spent hours choosing, Sol knew better than to dirty any of it. So, he stepped onto the ground as a respectable young gentleman would, instead of leaping to the ground and sending up a cloud of dust and dirt, as he wanted to. To that, his mother relaxed her worried gaze and nodded for him to run along and explore.
And so he did, wandering into the lavish, well-polished manor house of warm colours and dark cedar wood. To his delight, Sol spotted an overflowing bookshelf in the solar, the words inside the fairy tale books practically begging to be devoured.
Yet, with the call of the wild and babbling of the creek Sol instead scavenged a random piece of parchment on the table and left out the back door of the flowery scented house. He ran out into the field of wheat just beyond the house, journeying downhill Sol followed the sound of the creek, swatting aside the stalks of wheat in his path. He finally came to the bank of the creek at the very foot of the hill, and decidedly threw off his petticoat at the insistent glare of the sun at his back as he crouched by the cool waters and crafted his little paper boat.
Sol assumed his father would speak with the kindly caretaker for some time about the manor, about many things that only led to Sol’s mind to wonder far, far away and into some mystical battle between two kingdoms, perhaps between god and evil.
But he thought of no such things now, as he pushed off his little paper boat onto the gentle current and watched it begin to sail away…only to be downed with a single little lap of the water and sink.
“Damn…” Sol grumbled under his breath, his heart sinking just the same. He snapped from his momentary mourning of the S.S Very Important Legal Document when he heard a cackle of laughter behind him.
A witch?! Sol thought for a split second as he spun, only to be disappointed by the sight of a young, black haired boy, probably around the same age as him. Sol was taken aback for a moment, seeing the same, strange yellow eyes of the man before, only they almost seemed to laugh with him. Mud caked the boys boots, his hands were filthy along with the rest of his roughly sewn famers clothes, but he didn’t seem to notice, especially so when he casually stepped down onto the bank and shoved Sol into the cold shallows. He cried out as he fell, but water quickly filled his mouth until he sat up, coughing and disgusted by the mud and guck now covering his back.
“Hey, what was that for?!” Sol demanded, his watery eyes now icy as he pouted at the famer boy who just laughed as if it’d been the funniest thing in the world.
“That’s how me and m’ brothers say how to each other, milord,” he began, extending a hand that Sol hesitantly took, “The names Egad by the way. Egad Northwood, but you can just call me North, no one else does.” The odd boy North continued to smile mischievously as Sol gave him a sceptical eyebrow raise. Deciding to return to favour in his way of greeting, Sol decided to call the strange egg a different name.
“My name is Solomon Ashford, but you can just call me Sol, nice to meet you Egg.”
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