Member-only story
The Authentic Eclectic
The Dress of Stories
Today, there was no sewing. No chopping, no churning, no spinning.
Those who owned a finest wore it, though the women also wore pants under their dresses. Poorer children and women decorated their hair with wildflowers, dancing about with a giddy madness that put May Day to shame. The buildings were decked out such as to make Christmas blush.
Hours before the appointed time, the villagers gathered on stools and stumps along the main road, bickering over spots near the gate. Bryn clambered onto her big brother’s shoulders and wondered whether she could make it onto the roof of a house.
A voice caught her attention. “What you gonna try for?” She looked down to see a little boy who must be her neighbor Caius — but his face was so clean, she almost took him for a stranger.
“A chipmunk!” she cried.
“Chahhh,” he tsked. “I’m for gold and silver!”
“Cain’t play with gold nor silver,” she replied haughtily, and he was about to make the obvious retort when a woman gave a shriek that quickly rippled through the village. The children craned to see.
Through the gate, down the rolling dirt road, and far away at the edge of the woods, a figure towered over the trees.
