On my honor

5

"Are you still milking that cow?! I swear a herd of snails in peanut butter is faster than you! Hurry up" mother nagged

"Oh shut it woman I'll be done when I'm done!" Father yelled back

Mother places both fists on her hips and father quickly changes his tone

"I mean I love you dear!" Father said with a quiver in his voice

"That what I thought one more remark such as that and you'll sleep with the hog" mother finished as she walked back to the house

I just giggle at the two earning me a dirty look from father

"Now as you know we just lost a good hand around here so you're gonna have to pick up the slack now your mother won't like it much because it's not exactly picking vegetables or making biscuits. It's men's work but I have to depend on you from now on, alright? Come on I'ma show you to chop wood " father said getting on to the chores

I followed him to a stump with a sharp axe leaning against it. Father picked up the axe and began

"You be careful now it's very sharp you could chop your limbs clean off so listen close" father warned "now you grab the log and set it up then swing" father demonstrates

"Go on you try" he said as he hands me the axe and sets up another log

I take a deep breath and swing down hard. The log splits perfectly in two like a apple. I tried to pull the axe out but the head was wedged deep in the stump

"At-a-girl! Here lemme pull it out" father exclaimed proudly as he gripped the Handel

"Now don't swing so hard once the head meets the log it'll slide right through like butter" father instructed

I give him a smile and try again. Landing a perfect split. The summers and winters flew quickly as I learned how to be both a man and a woman. From sewing to forging armor and weapons I became talented in many categories, a true prodigy.

Once I learned to read more advanced literature I went back to Nicholas's bedside table and found a journal made off leather

There was only few entries though this was how he had practiced writing . Curiosity has struck me as I found myself eager to view my deceased brothers writing. That night at the prime age of seventeen I opened the leather book to pier into my brothers thoughts and find out more about him than what he allowed. His curiosity about sex and love and what they meant. Or his confusion about the 'role' one must be held to decided on their gender. His dreams of what he wanted to become. As I get lost into the inscriptions my brother left behind the soft candle light fades as a cold winter wind drafted in bringing the smell of smoke