Author: Peacock Feather in my Hair PM
A song fiction piece written for my character Annabelle later known as Lyric . She was around during the American Revolution and this is the story of her lover and her kidnapper. Written to Spring Awakening's Whispering R&RRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Angst - Words: 1,966 - Published: 04-18-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2908722
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Here the ghosts in the moonlight
Sorrow doing a new dance
Through their bone, through their skin
Annabell sat in her tiny cell of a room, moonlight playing over her skin as she waited for the man to come down. He always came down. Every night. Always.
To the souls in the fool's night
Fumbling mutely with their rude hands
And there's heartache without end
June 23, 1775
Annabel smiled, walking through the woods on the summer day. Sure, she loved the bustle of the city, but she loved the silence of the woods just as much.
"Well, look who escaped her chores today." Came a slightly teasing voice from her left.
The girl turned before she smiled, seeing Ben standing next to a tree.
"I'm just taking a short walk. Shouldn't you be at work with Father?"
"He closed the ship early to spend some time with your mother."
Annabel nodded, "Then what are you doing out here? You never come along this trail."
"I saw a pretty girl and I decided to follow her."
Annabel blushed brightly, looking away from him. The man chuckled, moving slowly up to her. "I mean it. I always used to think of you as my little sister, but you're really growing up. You've turned into a very beautiful girl that some man's going to snatch up."
Annabel shook her head, "I'm only sixteen years old."
"Almost seventeen," he corrected her. "My sister married when she was fifteen. And what about Franny Barker? She married when she was thirteen."
Annabel frowned. She hadn't thought of that before. Did she really want to marry? Especially if it was to someone so much older than she was. Or an arranged marriage… surely her parents wouldn't force her into marrying someone she didn't love…
"I've upset you, haven't I?"
She looked up, jerked out of her thoughts. Ben was looking rather dismayed.
I didn't mean to… although I suppose I went a poor way about it…"
Annabel was silent for a moment. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Ben."
He sighed, "I wanted to talk to you first… I'm almost done with my apprenticeship… and your father has offered to keep me around. After I start working, I should start looking for a wife. I know that you're not too keen on becoming a wife and mother and getting tied down… I just thought that since we've always been close… and… and…" he faltered, losing his train of thought.
Annabel couldn't help but smirk at the man who had become so much more than a friend. "Are you asking to court me, Benjamin Coalman?"
Ben smiled slightly, "… To put it bluntly."
Annabel smiled, "You didn't have to ask me."
"Yes, I did. I didn't want to force you into something you didn't want. Plus, you would have been furious at me if I hadn't asked you."
Annabel smiled softly, "Go talk to my father."
Ben grinned before he reached down and kissed her cheek.
See the father bent in grief
The mother dressed in mourning
Sister crumbles, and the neighbors grumble
The preacher issues warnings
March 2, 1776
Annabel pulled against her kidnapper's grip as she was dragged through the woods.
"Let me go!" she had been fighting him every step of the way since he had taken her a month ago. Not that it helped her any. She couldn't get away from the large man, and her defiance the past few weeks had only made him crueler.
She was thrown onto the ground at the top of a hill. "Don't move," the man warned.
Annabel looked down from the hill, a familiar sight filling her vision. There was the town she had grown up in spread before her. She was so close. If she ran down the hill, yelling, she would get attention immediately, especially from the group of people heading into the cemetery.
Her eyes immediately trained on the procession of mourners. Who had died? She knew almost everyone in town. She watched silently as the procession turned to the left, heading towards her own family plots. Her hands clenched. What if mother had problems with the pregnancy? Was she the one in the coffin? Or Grandma Clara had been doing poorly, she was old. What if it was her? Or her father? Her sister? Her Grandfather? She was shaking as she counted.
The preacher stepped forward as the coffin was lowered into the ground, standing silent. They seemed to move easier than usual and all six men stepped back from the coffin as soon as it was into the ground, as if there was something eerie about it. She spotted her father, his chestnut hair combed perfectly as usual. It was graying a bit at the sides now, as if he had been under some kind of strain recently. He was bent next to the hole in the ground as some of the men start burying the coffin.
She spotted her mother next, dressed in black, with a bundle in her arms. Her black cloak is wrapped tightly around her and the child against the winter chill. Her blonde hair is pulled back under her mourning cap and her curved frame keeps the child warm. She stands stoic, being the strong backbone of the family, like she always was, has been and will be.
Next, she saw her sister, her younger sister, Victoria. It's almost impossible to tell it's her. She's bent in on herself and moves sluggishly. There's no spring to her step anymore. Her blonde hair, so like their mother's, has lost it's luster. It's now pulled back into a sharp, plain bun. No more ringlets hanging to her shoulders to make all the girls jealous and all the boys stare. While she stands there, she crumples to the ground, sobs shaking her small body.
The neighbors, her grandparents and other family were close by. All were standing silently, a few murmuring about the death. She finally saw Ben, at the edge of her family, not far from her mother. He watched the happenings silently, his hair dark as the mourning suit he was wearing. She was glad she couldn't see his face or his eyes, knowing she wouldn't be able to bare the pain in them.
The priest began to speak as the coffin was buried.
"Annabel Felicity Hamilton, a young lady who had barely reached her place in the world…"
Little miss didn't do right
Went and ruined all the true plans
Such a shame. Such a sin.
December 24, 1775
Annabel giggled happily, as she was swung across the dance floor in a lively jig. Her cobalt blue dress twisted and turned as she did, trying to keep up with her movements. Her partner, Ben, smiled down at her, keeping her close to him as he steered her through the dancing crowds.
The jig ended soon enough and Ben led her off of the dance floor. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked, his hand lingering on the small of her back longer than was specifically proper. Annabel nodded.
"Please? I think I'll step out to get some fresh air."
Ben smiled, "I'll bring it to you." He gently turned her in the direction of the door. "I'll be there in a moment." He said before disappearing into the crowds.
Annabel turned, slipping out of the ballroom. She walked to the French doors and opened them before stepping out into the snowy garden. It was getting late, and all she could really see was the snow reflected off the low light coming from the doors. The world was filled with an uncommon feeling of peace. Ben stepped up next to her.
"Don't you love the peace that comes this late at night?" He nodded, slipping his arm around her waist. Annabel flushed slightly as Ben stepped away, his arm still at her waist so she would follow him. She smiled slightly, following the man she had fallen in love with over the summer. Ben pulled her over into a small out cove as Annabel giggled softly.
"Ben!" she whispered as he shielded her from the rest of the courtyard. "What are you doing? If someone see's us it will be a scandal."
"Shh…" he shushed her, kissing her briefly before his lips trailed across her cheek. She grinned, liking the new sensation, very aware of his hands traveling slowly down her back.
"Ben… wait…" she murmured, slightly intoxicated from the wine and his kisses. His lips had traveled down to her neck. It wasn't until she felt his hands slip under her skirts that she got worried.
"Ben!" she whispered frantically, "What are you doing? Stop that." She squirmed against his grip as he pushed her up hard against the wall.
"Shut up, whore."
The growl that came from the man's throat froze the blood in Annabelle's veins. That hadn't sounded like Ben. The tone was all wrong. And he had an accent, not like the one that Ben had… This wasn't Ben.
"Get off of me!" she cried, trying to push him off of her, but the man shoved her right back. Her head banged against the brick wall behind her, making her see stars.
"Shut up, I don't want to have to kill you yet."
Home alone on a school night
Harvest moon over the blue land
Summer longing on the windHad a sweetheart on his knees
So faithful and adoring
And he touched me. And I let him love me.
So let that be my story
September 5, 1775
Annabelle glanced over her shoulder, singing softly as she walked through the woods. She was out past the cemetery as the crisp autumn air blew through the trees.
"Miss Annabel, Miss Annabel, where are you?" Came a gentle, teasing call.
Annabel turned around and saw Ben walking towards her. She couldn't help but smile as she saw him walking towards her.
"Hello, Ben," she said softly, walking up to him. Ben smiled down at her, slipping his arms around her waist for a moment before kissing her cheek. She blushed slightly as he did before he took her hand and continued walking.
"Where is my song bird off to today?"
"I'm just out for a walk. Mother and I need some space from each other since she hasn't been feeling well."
Ben nodded in agreement, as he started leading Annabel through the woods. They were walking for a while before a clearing opened up before them.
"Want to sit down for a bit?" Ben asked as he looked around the clearing.
"I can't get my dress dirty."
Ben smiled, "I can fix that." He said, leading her over to a fallen tree and sitting down. He gently patted his knee. Annabel flushed a little as she gently sat, spreading her skirts around her. Her lover smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Ben…" she whispered, "We shouldn't be doing this…"
"Doing what? Sitting here?"
"… Like this…" she blushed brightly.
"Annabel, we're just sitting here. We're doing nothing wrong."
Annabel smiled softly, "I suppose that's not bad…" she relented after a moment. Ben smiled and kissed her cheek again.
For the hope, for the new life
Something beautiful, a new chance
Hear its whispering
Annabell sat in a bar, years later, nursing a drink and watching a boy sing a beautiful song that spoke to her soul.