Description
Opportunity Knocks [epilogue] by Ratte
Autumn.
A cool breeze sweeps by. Still early in the season, but the change is noticeable.
More wind, more rain.
The gradual, inevitable reddening of the foliage and the full ears on their mother stalk, the dark silk spilling forward and greeting the changing world.
Ripe crops, good food to come, and a mess of canning to be done over the next several weeks.
Sit back and consider where life has gone-- my own home, my own land, livestock and everything.
Most importantly, my kids. May not have come from me, but certainly mine all the same.
It's been, what, about three years since Veran and Tyler moved here with Beyle and I. Despite the initial apprehension, the both of them acclimated quickly, and quite well.
No blame towards Veran for her hesitation, near anyone coming from that position would feel the same.
I know.
Beyle knows.
...
It's been a long day of work, Beyle and I tending to various needs of various residents-- a broken table, orders of jars, new countertops, changing tires. We're never bored.
The other two help with the animals before and after school. Still another hour before then, decide to take a quick break before going back out.
Pour myself a glass of sweet peach tea from the ice box and park in my large chair, close my eyes and take in the sounds of the outside.
The ice settles and clinks against the glass.
Muffled rattling from Beyle's workshop.
A deep breath and a sigh of contentment.
And then a light knock on the door.
...A knock on the door?
It took a few seconds to slip back into the overworld and process the sound. Clenching the arms of the chair, I lifted myself back up to my feet and slowly made my way to the door.
Nobody in the window.
Curious.
Grabbing the handle, a gentle turn and a slow pull revealed nobody after all.
I poked my head out of frame.
Look right. Look left. Nothing, nobody.
Perplexed, I go to retreat back inside, but I'm stopped by a faint whimper from below.
I look down to see a small child asleep on my doorstep, wrapped up in a thin blanket. A tiny faraden, I doubt even a year old, with some kind of paper in hand.
A note, maybe?
...I...don't think I could have been prepared for this.
Weaseling the note from the tiny hand, I opened it to read. Much of the handwriting was too scratched or faded to discern, some spots wet to the touch as though hit by rain. It seems this was done with great haste.
" -- -orry -- b-rden you with -uc- a thing.
I di--t w--t to do this. Thi- -as a last r--ort.
Our to-- -ushed u- out. Don't und--sta-- -hy. Bad thing- --- --ppening.
--ease try -- --ve her a --od life, one w- --n't pro--de.
Ple--- -ind it in yo-- ---rt to for--ve me.
Nobo-- --serv-- -o be lef- --hind.
Her name is...
T---- y-- -r m--."
...Ah.
...
...Well...it's a good thing we still have room.
---
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