The sun has risen early that day. Its rays spread like warm arms embracing the earth. The morning dew glisten a chrome of colors while birds nestling on the branches chirped gleefully at their capture of worms. Grasshoppers leisurely hopped around on some well-kept lawn. Most of the residents are up and about for their morning meal. An occasional laughter would be heard from time to time as neighbors chatter with each other over the waist-high white-painted fence. A few children were playing along the empty sidewalk, chasing each other while some teens teased each other playfully as they head towards school.

 

It seemed to be an ordinary day for Spinster’s Town, whose name’s origin causes confusion, still. Some say the name has risen from long time ago where the town’s source of livelihood was spinning wheels. Some, however, stated that it was derived from a woman famed for her exceptional beauty who swore to spinsterhood after being betrayed by the man she held dear. But the story of the woman has been forgotten, it seemed. Or rather, the people chose to forget the story for it causes unsettlement in the air.

 

But what seemed to be a normal day was bound to turn out quite differently. At least, for a girl of nineteen years of age who gingerly but hastily walked along the sidewalk with her head bowed. Her unkempt hair which resembles the color that of autumn leaves fell messily at both sides of her face. Her presence was soon noticed. Scrutinizing and curious eyes watched her while a dead silence came to whoever saw her. Curiosity lingered in the air as it would be the first time for her to come down from her dwelling up in the hill with her supposed mother.

 

Sandara reached the town’s market with a group of people who noticed her trailing her steps. She slightly tilted her head up, her brown orbs scanning the place as if in search of something. A faint color streaked across her pale cheeks upon seeing what she came down for. With small but sure steps, she headed towards one area, causing unsettlement on the lady behind the tiled table where a variety of fresh meat was displayed. Stopping in front of the said display, her brown orbs blinked as she saw what she needed right in front of her. What seemed to be lifeless eyes lit up – eagerly, she took something from her large front pocket and presented it to the lady.

 

“Can I trade this for a piece of meat?” she asked. “It’s one of my finest works”

 

The lady looked down at the wooden figure of a black horse on its hind legs. With contempt and disgust on her face, she spat, “No! You must be out of your mind! If you want a piece of meat, you need to pay with MONEY! But even if you have money, I won’t sell you any meat, you menace! Get out of here before I drag you and your bushy hair away!”

 

But Sandara remained on her position as if the lady never spoke rudely to her. Again, she asked the lady the question she asked a while back. A pail of water was then thrown at her followed by a series of ruder words. But she stood immobile on her spot. For the third time, she asked the lady the same question. The scene was gaining both attention and avoidance. The meat vendor noticed how her usual meat buyers seemed to be avoiding her eyes. Instead, they went to the other tables to buy meat. Outraged with this, the lady snatched the horse from the girl’s hands and threw it on her face. A skin broke at her temple and started to ooze with blood, drenching her already wet hair. With a blink of her eyes, she bent down and picked up the wooden horse. Without any parting words, she headed towards the other meat vendors.

 

Whispers started to hum around the place. A split of reactions seemed inevitable. Some felt pity, others were revolted; some looked amused, while other seemed rather bored. Again and again, she was begrudged with what she came for and was harshly shooed away. Dress and hair dripping wet, she began to walk away from the market. On her way, two naughty boys of age nine playfully threw pebbles at her feet, tripping her. Shielding her fall, she held her palms in front of her, letting the wooden horse fall once again to the ground. Not minding her scraped palms, she picked up the horse and got to her feet. Clutching the wooden horse tightly to her chest, she went on with her journey back to the hill. On her third step, however, a person stopped in front of her. With her eyes casted down, she only saw a pair of white shoes.

 

“Are you alright?” a male voice asked. She looked up then blinked. Hearing no response from her, the guy sighed and went on. “Want to trade?”

 

Sandara’s head tilted to the side. Her eyes went to his lifted hand which was holding a plastic bag containing meat. For the second time that day, her face lit up. She handed him the wooden horse the same time she snatched the bag of meat from his hand. Without a word, she then ran away.

 

“Wait!” the guy called.

 

But the girl did not dare to stop. She did not even spare him another glance anymore.

 

Sandara ran back to the cottage atop the hill with sheer eagerness. Something rare can be seen in her face – she looked alive. Her usually pale cheeks gained a streak of pink while her commonly blank eyes lit with life. The wind gushed, earning a gentle shiver from her. Her wait hair and dress stopped dripping water but remained wet, still. The bag of meat was held closely to her chest as she made way through the path of soil amidst the jungle of straw grass and other green life. She blinked upon seeing she was nearing the cottage. It was mostly made out of wood which has been worn out from the gushes of wind and kisses of the heavy rain. A broken set of fence hailed the front while smooth, flat, uneven and medium-sized stones were neatly placed on the path towards the cottage. Just behind the cottage lies a garden of varieties of vegetables which serve as food for her and her mother. Beyond that rests the dark forest from which they gather dry twigs or broken branches as fuel for cooking.

 

Sandara patted her shoes on the worn out rag on the doorstep before pushing open the wooden door gracing the entrance. The act produced a loud creak that filled the little cottage. She entered in a serene manner, tiptoeing even before shutting the door close. She went to the kitchen adjoining their eating area and took out the meat from the bag. She stared at it, head inclining to the side. She blinked and stared at the meat longer, quite not sure what to do with it since it’s the first time she ever handled one. Living a simple and humble life, she grew up eating nothing but from their garden. Setting the meat aside, she started building fire and rested a pot on top of it. She then poured a good amount of water into it and threw the meat down, uncut. She proceeded on dropping chopped vegetables before covering the pot. Taking a sit on the wooden chair near the table, she rested her hands on her lap as she sat motionlessly. She fixed her eyes on the dancing flames caressing the bottom of the pot. A cough caught her attention. Looking away from the unusually amusing flames, she stood up and went to the only room in the little dwelling. She peered through the curtain and watched the weary old woman lying flat on her back on the hardly worn wooden bed. The woman had her eyes closed as she coughed for two to three times before turning to the other side and falling back to sleep.

 

Sandara slowly stepped back and left the old woman in the comforts of sleep. She wondered how the old woman would react upon finding later about her little trip downtown. She was forbidden – but not entirely – to go downtown but the old lady’s current state worried her. She may know less about things but she knew vegetables weren’t enough to bring her adopted mother back to her healthy state. Sitting back to her previous chair, she fell back into her usual silent state as she once again watched how the flames caressed the bottom of the pot.

 

What seemed to be an eternity later, Sandara took the pot out from the flames and set it at one side. Taking the pot holder, she lifted up the cover and stared down at the contents. She paused for a moment after seeing that the meat won’t fit in any of their bowls. She looked around her, trying to find anything that will help her. As if answering her, her eyes landed on the chopping board and knife. Understanding dawned on her mind. Taking the meat out of the pot, she proceeded to chopping it to pieces. She testily picked one piece and put it in . She gave a nod of approval as a burst of rareness of taste overwhelmed her taste buds. She took a bowl and started scooping a good amount of the meal before bringing it to the room. She sat down at the edge of the bed and gently laid the bowl down. She reached out a hand on the sleeping figure’s shoulder and gave a gentle shake. Another round of cough came from the lying figure first before she looked over her shoulder. “Sandara” the old lady greeted in a raspy voice.

 

“Your meal’s ready” Sandara informed her.

 

The woman rolled to her side to face Sandara. Seeing this, the girl scoops a spoonful from the bowl and blew it gently. A wistful look came on her mother’s face after tasting the soup. “What did you put into this, Sandara?”

 

“Some vegetables” she answered. “And meat”

 

“Meat?” the old woman clarified.

 

“Yes” Sandara nodded.

 

Her mother waited for her to elaborate further but when her daughter remained silent and went scooping another spoonful from the bowl, she heaved a sigh. “Where did you get the meat?”

 

“From the town’s market”

 

The other instantly turned red, as if she’s about to explode but then, her face changed color into that one of being pale. Her eyes discreetly scanned the girl; pupil’s narrowing upon noticing her seemingly wet hair. A strong emotion close to destruction boiled inside her when her eyes zeroed in on the broken skin at her temple. Even through her weak state, she managed to clench her fists tightly. No, she does not blame Sandara for going down town. Her adopted child has always been obedient, too obedient as a matter of fact. There were times that she glimpsed a look of curiosity in the nineteen year old girl’s eyes but the latter never asked her anything. She would just wait for her to explain things. At times when she failed to do some explanation, Sandara would just leave it alone, never bugging or demanding her for anything. Her anger, or better yet hatred, was directed to the people who leisurely live downtown. “How did you get one? We don’t even have money”

 

“I tried to trade the black horse I made” she answered blankly. “But the woman didn’t accept it”

 

“Is that why you’re wet?”

 

“Yes” the girl nodded casually. “She threw a pail of water at me”

 

The old woman looked at Sandara’s face carefully, trying to trace any emotion – hurt or distress. But the latter just blinked at her blankly. “So, how did you acquire it?”

 

“A young man traded with me”

 

“A young man?” she repeated, her old heart laboring with every beat.

 

“Yes. About my age, I think” Sandara answered. “Or maybe older”

 

The old woman went silent as she watched the girl’s face for any emotions again. To her relief, nothing came. But she knew there could be no peace within her after learning Sandara’s encounter with a young man. She hid Sandara from the town for a few reasonable reasons. One of the said reasons was to hide her beauty from the prying eyes of the unworthy men. As a child, Sandara looked like an ordinary girl, except for the natural smoothness and glow of her skin. But as she came to age, she transformed into this unearthly beauty. It scared her, yes. Their Mother was also famed for her exceptional beauty but it only brought her misery and sorrow. With that, hatred sprung to their Mother’s heart that made her swear of revenge. Soon, their Mother’s wish shall be fulfilled. In time. . .

 

In time. . . .

 

 

 

 

 

Jiyong finally found a place to stay in. To his dismay, the place does not hold any of the luxuries he got used to. He saw a cheap looking inn a while ago that accommodates travelers but the bathroom did not approve his taste. It almost took him the whole day to finally settle in on a family house despite it being small. The house hasn’t been used for months since the family built a bigger house two blocks away from it but it was well-kept. The owner informed him that it’s being regularly cleaned by hired housekeepers in case a traveler would be interested to rent the place, making him the first occupant after the family, actually. He couldn’t blame the ‘travelers’ for not renting a place like this. It sure did cost him some money. But it didn’t matter. He preferred a clean place to sleep in anyways, aside from the fact the he wanted to be alone of course.

 

After the landlord and the wife left with huge grin plastered on their faces as they count the money on their hands, quite not believing their luck, that’s when Kwon Jiyong closed the door and went to the bedroom. He dropped himself to the bed and instantly fell asleep.

 

Back to the cottage, Sandara was once again staring at the moon. Night has descended and darkness surrounded the place. Tonight, she has two sources of light – the moon and the dancing flames from the lamp. Her mother has long fell asleep in the room; the soft snores coming from it were the evidence. As for her, she couldn’t somehow find sleep. Even the comforts of her blanket on the wooden floor didn’t seem appealing. Taking her eyes away from the moon, she looked down at a piece of wood and carving tools in front of her. She reached out for the wood and weighed it on her hands. She turned it here and there before reaching out for a tool and started carving the image in her mind with sure and steady hands.

 

The cold night air swept the whole town. The coldness of it hugged Sandara’s little frame but the girl didn’t show any signs of being cold. Too focused was she with her task that she failed to feel the coldness of the wind; hear the usual night sounds coming from the forest or even see the rats ran about the place. A cloud passed, blocking the moon from sight but still, she went on carving the wood with skilled hands. The wind gushed again, stronger this time. It blew the cloud covering the moon. As soon as the cloud was out of the way, Sandara set back and admired the finished product bathed under the moonlight. Her eyes traced every curve and bump of the miniature of a man on his feet with one hand carrying a little bag. The figure was bearing the face of the young man who traded with her downtown. Her mother told her many times before that the people downtown are nothing but evil residing in their hearts. She was aware of this that the way the meat vendor treated her didn’t really come as a surprise. But the young man was different.

 

Her head moved to the side as she stared at the stilled smile on the face of the wooden figure. Smile. The word echoed in her mind. How can she be aware of such a word? How can she carve a smile when she doesn’t even know how to smile herself? Standing up, she grabbed the lamp’s handle and went to the only mirror in the cottage, which she happened to pick up at the forest when she was gathering woods. It’s been covered with molds, dust and cobwebs. There were even cracks on some part of it. Setting the lamp near the mirror, she looked at herself and forced her facial muscles to move. As if frozen, her face remained the same. She wondered how people can smile whenever they want to when it seemed to be a hard task. Giving up her attempt to pull a smile, she went back to her sleeping bulk on the floor with the lamp and wooden figure on her hands. As she settled down, she blew the fire out and put the wooden young man beside her. With a sigh, she finally succumbed to sleep, welcoming the comforts of darkness it brings.

 

Another gush of wind passed, blowing a new set of clouds to cover the moon, bringing more darkness to the whole town. Everything was calm and still. But something colder came upon a house. Subconsciously feeling the change, the lady meat vendor awoke with a start. Rubbing her eyes gently, she pushed herself up and strained her ears. But she heard nothing unusual. As she was about to go back to bed, something foul penetrated her nose. Bothered with the smell, she pulled the bed covers off gingerly, not wanting to wake her sleeping husband up. Her nose wrinkled as soon as she stepped out of their room, the night air blowing the awful smell to her direction. The offensive smell seemed to come from the living room. Barefooted, she headed towards the direction of their living room and flicked the lights open.

 

The scene in front of her didn’t register at first. Slowly, her brain started processing everything. The whole place was thrashed and there were dead rats on the couch, on the floor and literally everywhere. Up in the wall, what seemed to be written from the dead rats’ blood says: ‘Blood shall spill upon my return’

 

Eyes growing wide and horror washing her whole being, a scream escaped her lips.

 

 

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*a/n:

Whoa! WHOA! Thanks so much for the warm welcome guys!! Aigoo, i read all your comments.. Tsk, I wasn't really gone that long, was I? Hehe.. Anyways, thanks so much, really!! Aigoo. Please don't expect too much from any of my stories, 'kay? Still a noob writer here..

 

sorry for the typos and grammar errors!!

 

and thanks for all the love! love y'all!!

mwah!!

 

xoxo

hagocimit

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