U is for Underground
The man straightened up, wide-eyed. He turned to Kenrick. “You believe this?”
“What proof have you?” the man demanded, glaring back at Godwin.
Godwin licked his lips. “Grant was careful to obscure any evidence of my parentage. Yet you can still make out my father’s crest on my arm.”
“My right forearm. On the inside. Grant tried to burn it off.”
The man came around behind Godwin and shoved him down flat. He gripped one wrist. “I see nothing.”
“The other one,” gasped Godwin. “The right.”
S is for Secret
Godwin tapped his horse’s flank, encouraging the stallion to continue up the steep trail. He had been riding silently behind Kenrick for more than three hours, climbing higher and higher into the hills behind Baronwyth. The sun had dipped behind the peaks more than an hour earlier and twilight was falling.
The trail passed between some large stones and a nearly vertical cliff. The trail grew darker between the rocks. Kenrick slowed.
Godwin heard a noise behind him and looked back. Four men now occupied the trail where they had just been.
Kenrick’s horse snorted, bringing Godwin’s focus forward again. The trail was blocked by an additional group of men. The horses stopped.
R is for Reconciliation
Godwin walked home alone, troubled.
He had looked his best friend – the one person he’d known his entire life – and said he did not know him.
Godwin felt sick. This was a disaster.
He’d never considered that people from his past might suddenly reappear.
When he got back to the house, he stoked up the fire and sat, staring into the flames.
“What happened,” Joan said, startling Godwin. “That man said he knew you.”
“He did,” said Godwin. “It was unexpected.”
“But you didn’t know him?” Joan said, sitting on the bench beside him. “He seemed so certain.”
Godwin gazed at her in silence.
O is for Oriel
Godwin stared down at the struggling tiny person. “So beautiful,” he whispered.
The baby gazed back at him with dark blue eyes, making tiny sounds as she worked her hands open and closed. Her face scrunched up and she began to cry.
“Oh no-no-no,” whispered Godwin. He started to walk, bouncing the baby gently. “Sleep my little Oriel.”
Joan padded slowly back into the room. “How’s our darling?”
K is for Kuk Sool Won
Yesterday, Saturday April 13, 2019, my son and I participated in our first tournament in the traditional Korean martial art called
Kuk Sool Won.
The first-ever Fingerlakes Kuk Sool Won tournament, organized by my school, Kuk Sool Won of Greater Rochester, NY.
Ribbons for all the divisions and events.
My son has studied Kuk Sool Won for about 3.5 years, and is very close to starting the two year cycle that leads ultimately to a black belt. I started a little over a year ago and will be promoting to my blue belt in a couple of weeks.
L is for Lift
Godwin sat with his legs dangling off the side of the bed.
“Planning to go somewhere?” said Kenrick.
“A journey starts with just one step,” said Godwin. “I need to walk.”
“And then what?” said Kenrick.
“Then I’ll do as I’ve promised. I’ll make myself useful.”
“Boys,” said Joan from across the room.
Kenrick sighed. He slapped his thighs and stood up. “Well, I’m going to wash up.”
“You do that, father,” said Joan. She pointed at Godwin with the knife she was using to cut vegetables. “And you’re going to sit right there, David.”
Godwin smiled. “Well now, how am I supposed to be useful all the way over here?”
K is for Kenrick
Godwin enjoyed watching Joan cooking. In truth, he just enjoyed watching Joan. She was cheery and full of life. Maybe plain, but real, and earthy. Bertram would never have approved. She was perfect.
He chuckled to himself, then struggled to sit up a little better.
“And you’re moving around,” Joan said, looking up from the pot that hung over the fire. “How are you feeling today?”
Godwin shrugged, looking away.
“A man could question your motives,” said Joan’s father from across the room. “I see how you stare.”
Godwin moved his hand slightly, expressing mock surprise.
“No doubt you’re not completely innocent,” said the father. “Surely there’s some reason for the beating you took.”
J is for Joan
The spoon touched his lips and Godwin opened his mouth. He wasn’t sure he could really taste the broth, but he knew that’s what it was. He could smell it.
He groaned slightly. The effort to swallow was unbelievably exhausting.
The woman cooed over him. “Another bite,” she hummed.
Godwin whimpered as a spoon touched his lips again. He was so urgently hungry.
He blinked and thought he saw the flash of the fire. He turned his head slowly to look. It was there again. A tiny bit of light.
I is for Injuries
Something cool was dabbed on Godwin’s face. He heard the crackling of wood in a fire, and could just barely smell it. But his eyes would not obey his command to open and look for the flames.
A woman was singing, cooing over him.
He wanted to move, but pain was everywhere and heavy. His body refused to move.
The woman hushed him.
Something sweet touched his lips. He licked at it.
H is for Heap
Course, dusty fabric scratched across his nose, trapping heat against his face. Godwin didn’t move.
He couldn’t move.
His head thumped against a wooden plank. Muffled, somewhere in the distance, wheels rolled across stony ground.
Movement stopped. Distant voices. Muffled.