Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: River (08/31/06)
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TITLE: Out Of Love | Previous Challenge Entry
By Susan Lower
09/03/06 -
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The young woman looked down at her basket clutched in her arms. To an untrained eye she would appear to be on her way to do her wash, but she was intent on her direction. The guards had not noticed her precious bundle tucked inside the cloths. Intricate hands had woven the basket with great patience and care. She never wanted to have this day come, the day she had feared.
The sounds of the bushes behind her rustling startled her. The hammering of her heart loud in her ears. Her eyes darted in all directions to make sure the coast was clear. She must act quickly before anyone discovers her ruse. Then she hesitated reaching for the top layer of cloth. How could she look into the eyes of innocence and turn her back? What choice had she been given?
The cloth folded down, the smooth rosy cheeks of her son flushed in sleep. Fat tears slid from her eyes down her face. She stuffed her fist in her mouth to block the emerging sobs. She yearned to hold him one more time. She ached to nurse him. She wanted most in her heart to keep him, but she couldn’t risk him being taken away. Any sound, a coo, a cry, would alert the guards patrolling around their village.
She bent over and gave the slumbering infant a soft kiss on his head. The babe yawned and smiled. A new flow of tears streaked her sodden cheeks. “God be with you my son.” She wept laying the basket in the bend of the river. The water rippled around the small crafted vessel. Her hand held him still, she wasn’t ready to let go, and briefly she closed her eyes in prayer.
One finger at a time the basket slipped from her grasp. She opened her eyes watching the current take her child away. It was best this way, she decided, her son would have a better chance at survival than with her. The guards would take him away just as the river did, but the river gave her hope of freedom.
Splashing her face with the cold water from the river bank she rose to join the others in their daily task. She didn’t look back at the swirling tides of water rushing down the river’s path. She found the woman singing, scrubbing, talking of times past, but her heart was not into their company.
At home she worked on preparing the evening meal, and in moments when she looked upon her empty bed she wept. She sat on her woolen blankets praying for her child, for safety, and thanking God for the blessings of all her children.
The knock on her door came as a surprise. The door swung open and in stepped one of the king’s guards. In the crock of his arm was her baby. She jumped to her feet, panic rising in her throat. How would she deny the baby belong to her?
He raised his hand when she stuttered to speak. The babe was laid in her arms. “It is told in the village you are able to care for this babe.”
She nodded.
“By order’s of the royal family you shall care for this child until the day he may walk on his own.”
She nodded.
The guard left her then, and she wept. This time the tears came of joy for God had answered her prayers.
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