Novel Treatments / Gloria ch. 2
Life went on much the same for almost a year. Every other day, I took Bible lessons from Nanny. On Sundays, I went to Mass. In my spare time, I did chores and took beatings from my father. Sometimes, when the sunlight turned the morning sky into a lavender blanket, I thought that maybe I was happy. Other times, when my father’s grip bruised my arms and the lashings swelled into welts, I knew that I wasn’t.
One such ordinary day, I scrubbed the grimy stone floor of our dining hall. The house had a considerable berth, sprawling over our small estate, but there were only two floors and a cellar, each ceiling about eight feet high. Once it had been a stately manor house, but now it was falling into disrepair. The expensive glass windows were cracked and caked with dust. During rainstorms the roof leaked into the second floor, where a colony of bats now lived, and the first floor ceiling was now stained with black mold. A particularly large tear in the shingles was situated directly above the nursery.
The dining hall, once the pride and glory of the family, was cold and dirty, the chimney of the fireplace blocked with soot. As I kneeled and lazily sloshed soapy water on the stone, the deep chill of frozen granite pierced my knees. I had tied back my stringy hair with a loose thread from my skirt, but strands kept falling into my eyes, and my attempts to push them behind my ears only resulted in a sudsy face. I shivered and crawled towards the kitchen entrance, hoping to catch a wave of heat from its massive ovens. The gentle murmuring of Nanny’s voice emanated through the door.
My father roared in response, toppling me over with fright. “I’ll have no such thing!” came his muffled yell. “She’s a devil, understand?! Devil!”
I crept closer, intrigued. They were discussing me, obviously.
“But I can’t just call her ‘child’, my lord!” Her voice trembled. “Surely her mother would want to -”
“NO!” Father bellowed again. “No names! I will not have that thing named in my house! Understand?!”
“Yes, my lord!” Nanny sobbed. The door flung open and she ran out of the kitchen, covering her streaming eyes with shaking hands. I felt sorry for her; she couldn’t handle my father’s rage. She was the spineless type, preferring cowering to blows. I knew it was only a matter of time until she left me.
The next morning, Nanny was gone. I had expected it, but I was still grieved. Even though she had taught me so many things and done so much else for me, and despite my loathing for her cleanliness and routine, I always remembered her as the woman who wanted to name me.
After Nanny was gone, Father hired a proper housekeeper and cook. The first day she came, she sought me out in the nursery.
Her plump frame shadowed the doorway, but I ignored her, playing with two worms I had dug up in the yard. She coughed politely. I continued to deny her existence. Finally, she stomped over to me and touched me with her shoe.
“Hello. I am Mrs. Lynn. The kitchen is my domain, and I expect it to remain that way. That means that I don’t want you scurrying about underfoot.” She glared at me sharply. Her faded violet-and-tangerine dress was a few sizes too small for her girth, and a few inches too short; her bosoms were spilling over the top and her hairy calves could be seen. Towering over me, she was as formidable as an unusually colorblind giant.
“According to your father, you have a penchant for mischief and misbehavior.” She patted her belly, took a deep breath, and stared a bit into the distance, as though preparing to recite a poem. “I will not tolerate thieving, pranking, tomfoolery, assault, irritation, wickedness, impiety, impudence, disobedience, disruption, disrespect, or guff. If you want to remain free to wallow in your filth, do not provoke me. Good day.”
What Mrs. Lynn hadn’t noticed was that I had dropped a worm onto one of her disgustingly orange shoes. I smiled evilly to myself as I imagined it sliming onto the bare part of her foot. I knew that, while she was intimidating, Mrs. Lynn would not be a problem.
I fingered my remaining worm, stroking its clammy, translucent skin. Mrs. Lynn wouldn’t make me go to church, as Nanny had done – but suddenly I wanted to. I told myself that it wasn’t because I missed Nanny. Nanny had been selfish, after all, leaving me here alone. I tried to hate Nanny.
The worm flailed on the floor, attempting to escape me. It did not belong here, in my nursery, in my world of broken windows and creeping mold. No, the worm belonged in the warm earth where it could live and grow. Finally I let it free, and with it, I let go of Nanny.
You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.
Reviews
Sort Reviews by Newest | Oldest | Highest Quality | Lowest Quality | Newest Comments |
Your description of the estate was very well done. I could see it vividly, even down to the bats. I could see her on her knees, scrubbing the stone floor. Good imagery.
Your charaters are well defined. The father, shouting at the nanny. The spinelessness of the nanny. The new housekeeper Mrs. Lynn was excellent imagery. I could see her and felt her personality as she stood in the doorway, going to her, giving her instructions about not being underfoot in the kitchen. And the worm on her shoe was hillarious.
I’ll be looking for more. this is good work and a very good story. You have much talent. Good luck.
- add/view comments (0)
Very nice beginning. I thoroughly enjoyed the thoughts of the young girl and how she saw things around her, refusing to give into the evil that encompassed her, but also not willing to not recognize it.
Keep it up! For one so young, you have a bright future ahead of you.
W.C.
Oh, my, trying to locate your first chapter is so very difficult with the Urbis search feature. That said, this is very impressive: proper sentences, good vocabulary, interesting dialog, nice scene settings, interesting premise.
I only have two very minor critiques. First, the word “berth” is almost always associated with ships and moorings, the only time that is not true is when it is used to mean a position at a job. Did you mean “breadth”, which relates to broad, wide, expanse? Second,I don’t think many people think of worms as having translucent skins (even though they do); instead, we think of them as pink or black or brown. The word translucent does not fit with the image we have of worms.
I really liked the new nanny’s list of things she would not tolerate, and how you prefaced the list with a reference to poetry; by mentioning poetry, you strenghtened the internal cadence of the list!
Showing 1 - 3 of 3
Review item
Add to faves
GENERAL
REVIEW QUEUE
Ratings & Rankings
