The Girlhood Gazette

A while back I entered a story contest put out by Patrick Henry College. I didn’t win, but my mom suggested that I post the story on my blog. So here it is. It is rather long, so I will break it up into three parts.

Faithful Unto Death, Part I

It was the year 1556. Nestled in a sequestered glen on the moors of England was a little village of barely a dozen cottages; and on this particular night, the wind was whistling around the corners, and a deep darkness lay over the land. Yet a cheerful light spilled out of the windows of the cottages – a welcome sight had anyone been wandering around on the moors that evening.

In one cottage dwelt a family by the name of Wilson. They – and indeed everyone in the village – were of the reformed faith, which during that time was under attack by the Catholic church; but so far their tiny village had remained unmolested. Master Wilson was the village blacksmith and farrier, and Mistress Wilson was bedridden due to a fall that had permanently paralyzed her. They had one daughter of seventeen left at home; all their other children had married and had children of their own. The name of the daughter was Marianne.

On the evening in question, if you could have peeked into the Wilson’s cozy little home, you would have seen Master Wilson by his wife’s bedside, reading the Bible aloud. The door to the bedroom was open, so Marianne might hear the reading as she baked bread in the kitchen, which also served as dining room and parlor. Master Wilson had chosen to read verses on tribulation.

“‘Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer: behold, the devil shall cast some of you into prison, that ye may be tried; and ye shall have tribulation ten days: be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.’” Master Wilson’s deep voice floated out of the bedroom to his daughter’s ears as she put the bread in the oven. She sat down to mend until it should be done.

“‘Great is my boldness of speech toward you, great is my glorying of you: I am filled with comfort, I am exceeding joyful in all our tribulation,’” her father continued. “‘These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.’ Wonderful words, are they not, Mother? The winds of persecution have not yet blown over our little settlement; but if they should, we would do well to remember the word of God!”

Marianne stood and stirred the soup on the stove. She peeped at the bread; it was done. The wonderful aroma wafted through the house as she removed the four loaves from the oven.

“Father,” said Marianne, coming to the door, “May I bring some bread over to Mistress Greene? I heard Master Greene say yesterday that she is ill and cannot cook. Little Jane can do some, but has not yet learned to bake.”

“It is a wild night, daughter,” replied her father. “I like not the looks of it. But, as Mistress Greene’s house is but a few steps away, I will permit it. Be sure to take a lantern and wrap yourself well.”

“Yes, Father.”

Marianne took one of the warm, fragrant loaves and wrapped it in a napkin. After tucking it under her arm and lighting a lantern, she threw a thick shawl over her head and hurried out into the night.

This story is copyrighted © 2009 by Kathryn Y., All Rights Reserved.

Come back tomorrow for part 2…

Edit: Click here to read Part 2