The Wood

Part 1, Entry 3

Day Three, First Moon, Hunting Year Five Hundred and Four

Aunt Martha took the class to the edge of the wood during school today to show us the remains of a witch that was caught creeping out of the wood last night. Under the ram's horns growing out of her eyes and the hooves that took the place of her hands and feet, there's something familiar about the form. It's gruesome, though, and I can't help but want to look away. Still, my eyes are drawn to it in quick flutters from the dead witch to the ground under my feet and back to the witch. I'm not sure which is more sacrilegious -- to look or not to look. I feel a dull ache in my temples. I hope that doesn't mean I'll grow horns. If it happens and I get a choice, I'd rather antlers. They're much more elegant.

***

When we got home from school today, Michael asked if Mama was going to grow horns and curse us. Grandpa smacked him, said Mama would never do a thing like that because she loved us too much to let her curse turn her into a witch. Dad made him eat three tablespoons of salt to make him purge those thoughts from his head and to remind him to never say anything about Mama's curse outside the family -- otherwise, someone would tell Grandfather Seth and Grandmother Margaret and if they found out, they would banish Mama into the wood for sure.

I don't need to be reminded not to talk about Mama's curse because I remember the day Grandfather Seth and Grandmother Margaret sent Loretta away. They caught her dancing around the house in her brother's trousers. She was their daughter and everything, so I know Grandfather Seth and Grandmother Margaret won't be bothered about sending Mama away. It doesn't matter that she's a kind person or that she's always on time or that she never forgets to bring tithes to the Temple. It doesn't even matter that the whole Village relies on her to pour soap.

Back when everyone made their own soap, villagers would get left with lye burns because they didn't know how to make the right balance between the lye and the lard -- but Mama figured it out, so most people have quit making their own, and they trade with Mama instead. I think some people would be upset if Grandfather Seth sent Mama away, but I suspect he doesn't care if losing her skill would make it harder for the Villagers to wash themselves or their belongings. No one is truly safe from the witch-hunt.

*****

Do any other writers here sneak little things from their own life into their stories and characters? I gave Mama the job of village soap maker because I make all my own soap. I don't sell it, but I gift it to family and friends. My folks "put in their order" once or twice a year, so they usually get a big stash of homemade soap around the holidays. They used to ration it so that they wouldn't run out, but now they don't have to!

What do you do in your own life that you sneak into your stories?

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