Language of Love

     When I woke up on the floor this morning I didn't think the day would end with me pressed in between cold palace walls and the rough side of King Scrub Daddington. It's a good thing I don't get paid for thinking.

     Earlier This Morning

     I woke up on the floor, face pressed into the dirt, green hair splayed in a ratted mess around me, sun in my eyes. I got my bony arms underneath me and pushed myself to my feet. I tried dusting off my nightgown but the stains had already formed. I'd have to wash it now if I were to wear it tonight for bed. I groaned as I made my way to the door, next to it was my bucket and in it was my coat. I pulled my coat out and slid my arms into it then i picked up the bucket and pulled the door open.

     I stepped out into the cold, feeling cool wet grass against my heels and between my toes. The front door faced west so I was cast in shadow as I walked around the front of the house, when I stepped out of the shadows I felt warm sunbeams gently kiss my face and legs. I continued my short walk to The Spring, grateful for the quiet of the early morning, it was calm, there were sounds of birds chirping and the trees at the edge of the village stood tall and watchful. I'd always thought of them as guardians, shielding us from the horrors of the world beyond. My mother had told me about the world beyond the wood once. A place of kings and monsters, thieves and tricksters. "Liars lay beyond the wood" she'd told me.

    "Miss Owlarr" 

     Speaking of liars. I turned to face the woman who'd called to me, she had long blonde hair, it was perfectly brushed and she had large round blue doe eyes, her nightgown was dirty or wrinkled, she was smiling at me. I hated her. I hated her perfect blue skin and the way I always smell vanilla when she's near, the way her hair fell on her shoulders and most of all I hated the way she lied.

     "Miss Smurf-" I replied shortly, nodding my head at her before turning my back to her and resuming my walk at a quicker pace. I did not want to get stuck talking to her. I hadn't actually spoken to her in 6 months and I did not intend to now.   I dared to glance back and it seemed fate was on my side as she was not interested in me anymore but was now wrestling with a pig, probably her breakfast. I turned back and finished my walk to The Spring.

     I arrived at The Spring and stepped into the cold water. The Spring was situated at the edge of the village, it sat right near the tree line and this morning it was half shrouded in shadow, the part that was lit by the sun revealed a fog coming off the spring, it was quite pretty I thought as the water rippled beneath me. I waded in about knee deep before bending to fill my bucket. I made about 6 trips before my tub was full of the cool spring water.

    I peeled my dingy nightgown and threw it into the tub before grabbing my brush and getting in as well. The water was cold against my skin and I broke out in goosebumps as a shiver ran down my spine. I grabbed my lye soap bar and pulled the gown up from the water and got to work scrubbing. It took about 30 minutes but I was able to get both myself and the nightgown cleaned. I stepped out of the tub and walked to the corner of the room where I kept my clothes and slipped into a pair of trousers and a tunic. Most women of the village wore dresses or skirts, I did not. I worked in the field, I wore pants. 

     After I'd gotten dressed I grabbed my nightgown and pulled on my shoes before stepping outside and walking to the side of the house where my clothesline was. It stretched from my house to a nearby young lemon tree. I reached up and hung the dripping nightgown to the line next to a pair of pants and took a step back, examining the line. I reached out and felt a pair of socks and pants I'd set out the day before and forgotten about. They were damp, I frowned and went back to the house to prepare my breakfast. I got inside and went over to my counter and pulled an orange from the wooden bowl on it. It was beautiful, carved from an orange tree by my mother, it'd been one of her last projects. The exterior was decorated with carvings of beautiful flowers and food always seemed to last longer in it. 

    I pressed my nails into the orange peel with some difficulty and began peeling the orange, marring it with my rough, callused hands. 5 minutes later when I'd finally vanquished the beast I had a pile of orange peels, a half squished orange and sticky hands. I didn't even want the thing anymore at this point but I'd bought it and I would not waste food. I brought it to my mouth and took a bite, I grimaced as the sour taste filled my mouth. I chewed methodically and swallowed before taking another bite. 

     Crack  

     There was a sudden pain in my jaw as I bit down on a seed. I spit it out muttering a few curses while rubbing my cheek.

     "Son of a bitch-" I say before finishing the orange, careful to bite anymore seeds. When I'd finished it I walked out of my house and went around to the opposite side where my field was. I call it a field but its more of a garden, not yet large enough to be a field. Even calling it a garden is generous, it was more of a square of dirt that had never yielded any crops. That didn't deter me though. I would farm this land as my father had, I had to. I needed to, otherwise I had no means of supporting myself, no one in the village would hire me and no one was going to marry me.

    Lets just say I have a history of not getting along with men, I don't listen very well and I like to ask questions, I like to read and I have a large vocabulary, I think it frightens them. Thats fine though, I don't need a husband or any man to support me, I can do this all on my own,and it starts with getting this farm up and running. I let out a sigh and rolled up my sleeves. Lets get to work.