GYPSY PART 1

With the twilight slowly fading to black the forest air is full of the sweet smells of a hearty gypsy stew. After all has had their fill, they sing and dance. It is a happy time in a gypsy camp when the night is still young. Savilla watches her sisters dance with their men as her father plays his flute and her uncle his fiddle. Her young nephews and nieces play by the fire. A string of beads, a stick, a ball is more than enough to fill them with joy.

Savilla wanders off to the edge of the clearing, she needs some time by herself. In a few days they will be at the river. She thinks about her friend who last year was taken by one of the King's sons to be his woman. It will be good to see her again. She knows things will be different, the child in her will be gone. She will probably have a child of her own.

She is excited and scared about this winter with the other bands. She is now at the age where a man will claim her as his woman. Savilla loves her father, he is kind and brave. The other men she has known, even her brother-in-laws and uncle seem to have a dark place in their nature. There are no secrets in the life of a gypsy. Living in a wagon means privacy is something a gypsy learns to live without. She knows what a man does to a woman and she wonders what it will be like. Yet the child that still lurks within her thoughts is terribly frightened. She also worries if the man her father chooses will stay with his own band. She will only see her family once a year. Why must a woman become part of a man and not the other way, she thinks.

Savilla is the first to see the men coming toward the clearing from the road. One was on horseback; all were carrying torches and weapons. A mob of the locals means bad things are about to happen for the gypsy. She runs back to the camp and warns the others.

Her mother hands her the oldest grandson and tells her the name of Ghitulescu must continue at all cost. When her mother tells her to run into the forest Savilla obeys; a gypsy child knows not to ask questions.

At the edge of the clearing Savilla hides among the trees. Her heart is pounding in her chest like it is trying to break free. The mob surrounds her family. She listens while the man on horseback accuses them of a killing in their village two days ago. Her father tells them they were in the city of Kimerth far to the north. Her father's pleas fall on ears deafened by the mob's lust for blood. The man on the horse cuts her father down with his sword, it is like the world has stopped. Savilla watches with a detached calmness, it is all too horrible to be real, as the mob gone mad hacks her family to pieces.

Savilla rocks the child in her arms gently as she recites the gypsy curse over and over again. She places it on the head of the man on the horse, for he is the leader of this pack of mad dogs. She watches them take everything of value and put her family in a wagon, then set it on fire. They all think they are better than the gypsy, yet a gypsy would never rob the dead, she thinks.

The fire from the burning wagon bathes the clearing in a hellish red. The shadows of the murders dance among the trees like demons celebrating the death of hope. While the soulless mob squabbles over the spoils of their disgusting deed, the leader sits upon his horse and takes one last look around. He knows the things he is responsible for this night must not go beyond the bonfire's glow.

What is that at the edge of the clearing, he thinks, straining to get a better look. Their eyes lock onto each other. She sees the all-consuming hate of one who is capable of such acts. He sees the telling eyes of a witness. He is the first to take action by kicking his horse, sending it into a gallop toward the next victim. She holds on to the child and starts what will be the flight of her life.

The light from the full moon exposes her to the terror of death's wild rider. Through the trees she runs, as the end bears down upon her. The child's cry, the pounding of the hoofs and the mad man's screams. She dares not look back, but she must. The horse's hot breath chills in the winter air; it's dark eyes show the terror of the orders it must obey. The moonlight reflects off the horse's sweat that steams as if he is on fire. The man sits straight in the saddle with his sword held high, his face twisted with a hideous glee. She loses her footing and tumbles down a steep hill. The child ripped from her arms and she no longer hears it crying. She looks up from the bottom of the hill and sees the horseman from hell silhouetted by the full moon.

The horse fears it will not make it down the steep incline. The first thing a man full of hate loses is his common sense. He slaps the horse on the rump with the flat side of his sword. The horse fears the man more than death and starts his descent. With front legs stiff and straight, and hind legs awkwardly feeling their way, the horse brings the madness closer and closer. Once at the bottom, the horse franticly dances and the madman's stare turns Savilla dead inside.

The child lays motionless by a rock next to the horse’s prancing hoofs. With less emotion than swatting a fly, this demon masquerading as a man stabs the helpless child with his sword. This last act of cruelty is like a slap in the face and sends her gypsy blood into a boil. The life of a gypsy is hard, for their enemy is everyone. Survival is as much a part of gypsy life as trickery and laughter. Savilla gets to her feet and runs, escaping her only chance at revenge.

In the moonlight the horse closes in on her retreat with every stride. The bellowing scream of the man as he waves his sword above his head is the ultimate nightmare. Savilla feels the horse's hot breath and the sound of death approaching is now at a deafening pitch. One last step before the end of her life there is a sound.

In the moonlight that now seems enhanced by the stars, Savilla looks back at her fate. The horse flops around trying to stand with a broken back. Next to the horse lays what was once the most terrorizing thing on Earth, now just an old fool crying from the pain of his shattered body.

Savilla gives thanks for the swiftness of the gypsy curse. She picks up the sword and looks deep into his eyes. It amuses her that this man who had no mercy for others now begs and pleads for some. He is in unbearable pain. With the sword she slowly cuts his throat, just enough to insure death while allowing the agony to linger. The mob starts to gather at the top of the ridge. It is time to go, she thinks, as she uses the shadows of the night to conceal her escape.

Almost a week passes as she makes her way across the mountains. The cold and lack of food has weakened her. The twilight tells her that she must find a place to hide. The night in the forest means only death for those foolish enough to wander.

It is the leader of the pack that first separates the faint scent of fear from winter's icy wind. It is still a little early. The light has enough remaining strength to expose the hunter's intentions. The excitement of the other members of the pack starts to surface. One by one they realize their leader will once again show them the way. With each sniff at the wind the leader gets information that combined with instinct will enable the pack to feed.

The sound of a howling wolf seems a lonely cry. Yet it brings the individuals of the pack together for a single purpose. The hunt starts when the leader slowly heads toward the scent. The others follow for they still do not have the scent. This is why the leader is the leader. It is better that the rest do not yet know what they will soon hunt, the leader thinks. There is always danger before the feast, for the main course will always fight to the death. This hunt will be more dangerous then most, for tonight their prey is human.

Savilla manages to pry a few stones from the frozen ground and eats what she finds living there. It is not enough to keep the hunger from feeding the madness, a madness that is now in almost complete control. The sound of a low growl from the surrounding forest is the last straw. Her mind clears, as if some unseen evil wants her to understand what is about to happen. Terror replaces the fight that has helped her endure. All she has been through was for nothing more than to die the most horrible death. Her heroic fight to keep from being cut down by the mob was only so she could be devoured by the pack.

From the safety of the underbrush the leader cautiously watches its intended meal. His instinct tells him that this human is helpless, yet he knows that they can be deadly. The leader comes out from the shadows and reveals himself. One by one the other members of the pack follow. The leader hopes that this will scare their quarry into flight. Retreating prey cannot attack. Savilla looks at the pack and prays that her beating heart will burst. The future she sees being torn apart piece-by-piece torments her mind's eye.

Surrendering without a fight is not the gypsy way, she thinks, as she looks for a weapon. Her only chance is a pile of boulders. She scampers to the top of the pile but the pack is just one step behind. She loses her footing and falls between the huge rocks. In the blackness of the pit, the pain of her broken ankle only adds to her terror. All around her she hears the yapping of the wolves whose blood now boils with hunger.

She feels the stinging pain of fangs biting into her scalp and a relentless yanking of her hair. She claws at the face of the wolf that has climbed down halfway into the hole and is trying to drag her out. When her hair is pulled from her head she drops back into the bottom of the pit.

The wolf is now afraid to climb back in, for it fears the close quarters will trap him. Nevertheless, it is not a victory as it just prolongs the inevitable. She screams to drown out the sounds of the growls and snarling, as the pack searches for a way to get her. She feels paws banging against her broken foot. She kicks at them, but they will not stop. The pack has made up their mind; she will be their next feeding. Franticly they scratch at the frozen ground. She thinks about her family as the hole the wolves are digging gets bigger and bigger. First it is just a nose, then the whole snout. She gets satisfaction when she kicks the snout and hears the wolf yelp in pain. A fang filled jaw locks onto her foot and starts to yank. I am going to be pulled through this hole, this little hole, she thinks. She screams what surely will be her very last sounds.

The leader of the pack feels the ripping thud in his side before he hears the sound of death. The screaming, yelping and snarling seem a whisper compared to the ringing bang of a gunshot. The leader lies dieing; his last thought is that humans are not food. The rest of the pack disappears into the darkness without a thought of fighting back.

Savilla takes hold of the hand extending down to her, and takes comfort in its strength. As it gently pulls her from what was to be her tomb, she hopes that she is not just moving from one nightmare to another.

                                  PART  2  A man, a boy and a Gypsy...