Short Story: Amelia Green

           

Amelia Green

The wind blew over the small farmland, carrying the smell of sea salt with it. The different crops and plants swayed and waved at the passing country folk. Children ran and played, gradually making their way towards town.

         Adults talked in hushed voices, sticking to their other family members. The closer the pack of people came to the town, the quieter everyone became. Even the children, sensing the quietness, were soon silenced.

         In town, guards and officials quietly talked around the doors of the court house.

"... Can't believe..."

"... so young..."

"... Damn devils..."          

         The doors to the church opened and the talking ceased. The preacher, a tall thin man, walked out, grimed face. A girl walked behind him in shackles. Her shoulder length blond hair hung in her face, her green eyes burned with fury. Amelia Green is her name and she is accused of being a witch.



         Amelia is the only child of the town doctor, John Green, and led a happy and carefree childhood. Since her father used herbal remedies she was taught everything about herbs and plant since she was old enough to walk. Now at seventeen she has learned everything her father could teach and is even discovering more on the way. And at seventeen, Amelia had her first real problem in her nice, calm life.

         Like any other of her girl friends, her problem started with a boy. Edward Palmer, the major's son, a real hot shot. He likes her, she does not like him. And because of a quick remark she made to him in the church building, her whole peaceful life died.



         "He-e-llo, Amelia," a nasally voice whispered in my ear. I gave a shriek and fell forward into the chamomile I was pruning. A high pitched laugh filled my ears and I, although already knowing, searched for its owner. A tall young man stood above me, blocking my sun.  His curly black hair flopped flat on his square head and his brown eyes shined with mischief.

"Edward, I told you to not do that," I said in a stern voice.

         He gave his high pitched laugh in response and shook his mess of black curls. He gently took my hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed it and whispered complements into my hand. I forced a smile and pulled my hand away and wiped it on my already dirty dress.

"Edward! How are you, son?"

         Edward flinched and, with widen eyes, turned to face my father.

"Mr. Green! Hello, sir."

"Hope you aren't irritating my daughter too much," Father said, a smile cracking his hard face. I handed him the herbs I gathered for the medicine that we need to make.

"Oh, no, sir. Just leaving, sir."

"Hope so," Father whispered.

         Edward gave a short nod and walked quickly to the fence that separated our home from the old dirt road. Father shook his head and I gave a light laugh.

"Chicken," he said, walking into our home. Considering Father is six feet two and still growing, anyone would be a fool to go against him. Especially someone as skinny and frail as Edward Palmer. I looked back at our small one room cottage before getting back to work. I continued to prune and weed the garden until another familiar voice called my name. As I turned I was thrown into the herb garden.

"Get off! Get off! You're crushing the plants! GET OFF!" I screamed, panicking.

         The short brunette grinned and kneeled beside me. She laughed a little and said, "Oh, Am, you aren't any fun."

"Oh, Tori," I said mimicking her voice, "I am fun, just not around plants."

I looked down and continued weeding.

"There are plants everywhere."

         I threw some weeds at her and laughed as she squealed and run around the yard.

"So," she said after she finally sat back beside me, "I saw Edward leave from this direction."

         I only groaned at the statement. Victoria Blackburn, Tori for short, is the only person in our town that even remotely likes Edward Palmer. As she went on her "Edward is so nice and sweet" rant, I continued to weed, talking only when needed.



         Tori and I stood by the well that was located in the middle of town clapping and listening to the music the church choir made. Since I wasn't the dancing type, when Tori left to join a group of spinning girls, I remained by the well, laughing and clapping.

         Candles sat in window sills and torches were placed on the sides of the roads on tall stands. A great bonfire sits in front of the church roasting different assortments of meat. Everyone danced and sang, even Father, who was usually up tight in parties, sat drinking with a few of the older fellows. This is the Spring Harvest Festival. A time for relaxation before the planting seasons start and the real work begins.

         Our small town holds two Harvest Festivals a year, one for the end of winter and one for the beginning of winter. We spend the day before spring officially starts drinking, eating and relaxing. The next day we will be in the fields, hung-over, preparing it for the growing season.

         I laughed as the spinning girls fell to their butts dizzy.

"Silly girls," said a bubbly voice beside me.

"Hello, Miss Maggie," I greeted the plump woman. She gave me a chuckle in response. Magna Cross, wife of Martian Cross the preacher, is a bubbly, loud, and caring person. Her round face always had a smile on it.

"How's your fight with your little follower?"

         How does everyone know of my dislike of Edward besides Edward?

"Not to good, I'm afraid," I giggled.

"Well, keep at it. Boys his age don't know what they want."

"Thank you...I think."

         She laughed and waved a goodbye when her husband and son started calling her. The son was my age and had straight hair and gray eyes. He stared at me for a second before leaving. But I wasn't alone long; Tori soon came along and pulled me into dancing with her and the other girls.



         I gritted my teeth in the hot spring sun, trying hard to pull out a tree root that grew a ways into my garden. My grip loosened and I fell backwards onto a sharp rock. My hand stung and as I watched the warm blood and dirt mix, I sat in the sun, feeling the sticky breeze.

         A horse brought my attention back to my surroundings. Coming from the direction of town, a brown horse and its owner torn down the narrow dirt road. Dust and dirt flew from the creature's feet and its muscles rippled under its skin. The rider slowed the creature in front of my gate and dismounted.

         The rider black curls flopped on his wet forehead as he searched my yard, spinning his head wildly, for something. He looked towards my garden and scanned over it. As he did this, I saw who the rider was, Edward. And as he did this, he found what he was looking for, me.

         I was going to call out that I was busy or I was about to leave but the look about him made me stop. Panicked. His hair was matted with sweat and his eyes were a wide as they could go. His normally tucked, neat, and clam demeanor was wild and scared.

         He jumped the small three feet fence, nearly tripping in the process, and ran over calling my name.

"A-Amelia, do you have anything for a fever? Please, Mother is in real pain."

         Marta Palmer is a real sick woman. I remember one winter Father and I made twenty cups of 'fever tea'-a mix of white willow bark, elderberry, and basil- for just five days of fever. Only one cup is suppose to be drunk a day. And, unfortunately, we have no 'fever tea' at the moment. "No, but let me look for something."

         I ran into my small house while Edward paced outside. Besides our beds, our pantries of herbal medicine, and our cooking supplies, nothing else was in the cottage. But our pantries of herbs are the biggest thing in the cottage. And the pantries are one of the two things I have the most pride in. Bottle after bottle of herbs sat on the dozens of shelves. Dried plants sat on one shelf while their moisten counterparts are carefully cared for on another shelf. Each bottle is labeled, but that is more for my father then I, on account of not being able to read or write, the one thing Father never taught me.

         I searched bottle after bottle, searching my mind for remedies and recipes for fevers. Devil's claw? No, that's for pain. Ginseng? That's for stress, not fever. Calendula? No no, those help with cuts and scrapes. Yarrow? N- Wait. Yarrow! I opened the bottle of dried yarrow leaves and emptied some out in my hand. The feather like leaves fell into my hand and the different ways of making a fever reducer came to mind. Finally I picked the easiest out of the few I thought up and put eight leaves into a small bag.

         As I walked outside I ran into Edward, who was coming in. He saw the bag and his shoulders relaxed a little. "Edward," I said placing the bag in his hands, "listen closely. Making yarrow tea is fairly simple, but still be careful, too much can make you sicker. To make the tea just boil water and place the leaves on the bottom of a cup and pour the boiling water on top of the yarrow leaves. Let that brew for five minutes, you hear five minutes, and then serve. She only needs a cup a day, you may just want to give her two half cups a day. Yarrow tea is bitter so if you have something to sweeten it, use it. Got it?"

         He nodded and repeated the directions and when I nodded in approval his face gave away to relief.

"If I could write I would have written down the directions," I said with a gentle smile. He whispered a thank you and I walked him to our gate. Opening it this time, he closed the fence separating us. He mounted his horse and as I racked my mind for extra advice, he called my name really low. I looked up to him as he turned his horse around towards town. I am short but my head still reached up to his thigh. He leaned down and placed his hand under my chin. He kissed me. Then he rode off. I stood there, wide eyed, staring into the direction of the town.

         I am in trouble now. 



Tori was silent, for once, and glaring at the ground. She stood to pace, sat down, then stood back up to pace. I sat by the garden, staring at the drooping pink pedals of the Soapwort flower. Finally, Tori spoke.

"How could you kiss him? I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't. I..."

"Then why play him?!"

"I did not play him." I said sternly, standing up. "I didn't expect him to do that. But don't worry I'm putting my foot down hard and saying no. I can do it."



         I cannot do this. It has already been a week since the kiss and I have seen him every day. I walked past the well in the center of town and sighed. I am such a coward. Tori will not speak to me unless I set Edward straight and even Father is starting to give me that disappointed look he reserves for times like this. I sighed as I left a medicine at a neighbor's house.

"Amelia!"

         I hate my luck. I turned and saw Edward running to catch me. When he reached me, I was engulfed in a bony hug.

"Your medicine is amazing. Mother feels wonderful. We should be careful or else the King will take you for his own personal doctor."

         I gave a light uncomfortable chuckle and pulled away. He released me and stood back. He started to bounce on his feet and his grin practically reached his ears. Oh, why couldn't I like him and make this whole situation easier. I sighed and tried to start my answer:

"Edward, I... um..."

"Will you date me?!"

         He was looking down, embarrassed to have yelled that out. I was shocked. I stood staring for a second and when he realized I still haven't answered he started to shudder about time to answer. I put my hand on his arm, to quiet him. Everyone who was in the area had stopped by now and was staring. I moved us to an ally between two houses to finish this conversation.

"Edward, I don't need time to answer."

         His eyes shined and the corners of his lips started to move up. "I...I will not date you, I'm sorry."

         He deserves to be looked at, and like a coward I looked at him after I said what needed to be said. His eyes were dull and his mouth was open in confusion. We stood there in that ally until he spoke.

"Then why did you let me flirt with you so long? Why let me kiss you just a week ago?"

         He was yelling by the end and I flinched at every word. I wouldn't look at him. I kept my eyes on the ground. He slammed his hand on the wall next to my head and grabbed my chin.

"Look at me," He snarled. I was scared and he saw that in my eyes. He released my chin and punched the wall behind me.

"You will pay for my broken pride," he said, walking away. Silently I walked home and broke down in Father's arms.



         The whole town, people whom use used to stare at me with warmth and kindness, now stare at me with coldness and contempt. I could handle this. It always happens to those who break hearts. Even I did it when I was little, at lease before I knew why we would glare at them. I just continued my routes and delivered the medicines. No one would speak to me when I delivered the medicine. The only people in the town who would speak to me were Father and Tori.

         So when Father and I went to the town meeting in the court house that Saturday night I was ignored. When Father tried to invite me into conversations my input was disregarded. Soon I gave up and watch the surrounding people.

         As I sat and watched a figure slipped outside, someone tall and skinny. The meeting started just then so the absent person went to the back of my mind. Mr. Palmer led the meeting and started talking of the rain and the crops. He asked for volunteers to catch a strange wolf that has been attacking girls wearing red. He, again, warned the children to stay away from the old woman who gave out sweets. Then we were dismissed.

         Father and I were the last out of the court house and we walked out to everyone laughing at something. The town's people were laughing at three young men jumping around and acting foolish. One was Edward. I gave a relived sigh, I was glad he wasn't still very mad.

Father and I watched for a second but then started to walk home. Our home was actually thirty minutes walk from town and because we don't own a horse we never stay after anything long. The lights from town had just disappeared when Father lit the lantern and the wind picked up. The air smelled of the sage, rosemary, and lavender from our garden enlightens the air. The smell of smoke from the lantern, though, was the strongest smell among the aromas in the air.

I looked at the lantern. Father caught me looking and asked me what was wrong. I stopped walking and sniffed the air. The smoke smell was too strong for this small lantern. I looked in the direction of the house, the direction of the wind. I ran home and didn't stop until I was passed the gate and stood in our side yard. Father was soon beside me, cussing. I stared at my garden, watching it burn.



Sunday I sat in the pew, dazed. In my hand a small bag lied half open. A small unrecognizable flower hanged half out the bag staining my fingers black. Was it Self-Heal or Angelica? Was it Arrowroot or Lemon Balm? Each question brought tears to my eyes. I, who has cultivated and nurtured all the plants in our garden since a young age, can't decide what this burnt flower is.

My sadness turned to anger as I saw the child who did this to my garden. Edward stood to sing with the choir. As his nasally voice reached my ears my relaxed hands turned to fist. When I opened them some of the burnt flower was crushed in my hand and my hand was black. I tried to brush the black ash off but it only got on my other hand.

Soon everyone was standing to leave for their lunch break. Father got up but I stayed in my seat. When Edward came by I grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled him beside me. His mother glared at me but backed off after I glared at her, something she is not use to. When everyone left we sat in the pews for a minute before he started the conversation.

"What do you want?"

         I picked up the small bag beside me and showed him the contents. The broken black flower fell into my already black hand. Edward looked at it, even picked it up and turned it around. He placed it back in my hand.

"So?"

"So, someone came to my home and burned down my garden. Father and I live off of that garden and I know who did it! You! You burned my garden!"

         He looked from the bag to my shaking hands to my red face. And he smiled.

"So?"

         I screamed and slapped him. My nails dug into his right cheek and blood oozed downed the side of his face. He jumped from the pews and stood in the alse.

"You witch!"

         I stood and pointed my black hand at him.

"You listen, Edward Palmer, you will pay for my broken pride," I smiled and said, "I will make you wish you never saw me, you child!"

         I stormed pass him and threw open the church doors. Most of the town's people was still ignoring me so when they heard the doors and saw me, they turn back around to gather everyone to go back inside to sing the final hymn before going home. Good. I don't want to be seen crying.



         I paced back and forth. I blew up at Edward but he wasn't undeserving.  What should I do? I made such a rash remark. I sighed and flopped on my bed and closed my eyes. Father came in and when I looked at him, he asked for the red peppers. Red peppers... that could work.



         I did not go to town for the next six days. I refused to. The only people I talked to was Tori and Father, and I only talked to them for a small time. During those six days I spent my time trying to save my garden and wandering the woods. I have also spent my time crushing red peppers.

         We have one small bush. But since we usually use them as objects to trade with neighbor we never have any extras. So it's a very good thing that the bush produces twice as many as it usually does last year and this year. We even have enough to keep for ourselves.

         So for the last few nights, right after Father went to sleep I stayed up and crush dried red peppers. Since one pepper only creates a little of the fine pink powder, I crushed about five peppers. Then Sunday and church came so quickly. I hid the little bag of pepper powder and a small bowl in my dress. When Father and I reached the church, Edward was already in his seat. I would just have to wait until the lunch break.

         I didn't listen to the preacher. I tried to but his words were loss in my planning. If I did listen I would have heard that "forgiveness is a savior to the soul". Well, too bad. When lunch time came around I left with everyone else, I ate, and talked with Tori. Finally I excused myself for the outhouse. And finally I can continue with my plan.

         I snuck into the church and silently made my way to the front. The fireplace in the front was roaring for the unseasonal coldness of the day. I was tempted to throw the bag of pepper in the fire, to be done with this plan. Too bad God teaches us to fight temptation. I smiled as I sat in Edward's seat. I picked up the lone hymn book and stared at it. I pulled out the small bag and bowl. After pouring the powder into the bowl, I turned to a random page and put a thin line of powder on the edge of the book. Closing it, I turned to another random page and continued the same slow process. Finally when the powder was almost gone, I closed the book for the last time and spread the reminding powder on the side of the pages of the closed book. 

         Just as I reached my pew the church-goers started to trickle in. Edward and his family were the last to come in. As they sat down the preacher stood and started the farewell song. Edward, who has a habit of flipping through the pages even for a song he knows by heart, lean down and retrieved his hymn book from the floor. I then heard a scream. Then hell broke loose in our small church.



         Amelia stood, trying to see over the shoulders of the other s in the church. Another scream rang, louder this time. Amelia couldn't wait; she pushed and elbowed her way through the crowd, ignoring the protesting people. When she made it to the front, she pushed through the line of onlookers and was shocked.

         Edward head was lying in his father's lap with his mother and Tori standing above him. His face was bright red, swollen, and his eyes, which were shut, had content streams of tears running down his face. His mother suddenly took up a huge cry and grabbed Edward's hymn book.

"The Devil has walked upon our holy haven and has cursed my son's hymn book! Destroy the unholy object! Destroy the object with the Devil's red dust!"

         Mrs. Palmer lifted the book high above her head and threw it toward the fire place.



         "Oh, my," she whispered. When the book hit the fire, the book open up and all the excess powder caught fire and started sparking. All the church-goers stared in horror and amazement. People were screaming, Mrs. Palmer yelled about devils, and children cried. But one statement rang out among the others.

"She did it."

         Tori had a serious look on her, an awkward look on her. She was pointing. Every one stared at the person, at her shocked expression. She was pointing right at Amelia.



         Everyone was quite, staring at me.

"She did it. She is a witch. Edward accused her and she threatens to take his sight. I bet he was going to accuse her today or close to now. So she created the Devil dust and took his sight."

         She continued to point at me, glaring, and I stared at her. She overheard me and Edward's argument and took it way out of proportion. She accused me of witchery. In front of the whole town. My best friend.

         I scowled and replied with a simple statement. "I am no witch."

"Then if you are not one, then did he call you one?"

I glared and said, "If you weren't so busy eavesdropping on a private conversation; you would have known it is because I scratched him."

"But you created this?"

"I- I did. For revenge on my garden, he burned it down. But my plan was tears, sneezing, and to irritate. I didn't mean this for the first time!"

         Oh no.

"First time?! Mr. Palmer," Tori said turning to him with a smile, "I accuse Amelia Rosewater of witchery. If you check her home you will find ingredients for spells and such. Your opinion?"

"I...agree. Arrest her!"

         Some came behind me and grabbed me. I fought, screaming. No one listened. I saw people pat Tori on the back as she glared at me. The last thing I saw of the church was my father's horrified face. As I left I saw an ant hill. They were making their hill larger. I looked up and saw sea gulls flying away from the ocean to the east. Great.



         Amelia Green stood on the edge of the bridge stone railing, glancing down nervously. The town surrounded the bridge, but only Mr. Cross, Mr. Green, Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, Victoria, and Edward were allowed on the bridge.

“Confess your sins and admit to witchery and God will save you. Your last words?” Mr. Cross said, looking everywhere besides Amelia.

         Amelia lifted her shackled hands and rubbed the noose around her neck. She looked to the sky above her and then the water rushing below her. She opened he mouth and said, “You thought I lie when I said a storm from the west was coming. But it did. You said I lied when I said I was no witch,” she gave a dark laugh, and proudly said, “but I did not! I am no witch. You just cannot see beyond your nose. Look and listen. You will see.”

         Then she jumped backwards into the water. There were screams at the sudden suicide, then screams of rage. Amelia Green waved at the townspeople as she swam down the river.



         I saw the fire in the night by the river bank and dragged my exhausted body towards the shore. Barely out of the water, I collapsed on the ground.

“Noose worked,” I said breathlessly.

“Told you it would,” said a bubbly voice.

“Took you long enough,” said a nasally voice. 

“Shut up, brat, you started this mess,” said a deep voice.

“Ryo Cross,” the bubbly voice warned. I laughed. These are my saviors