|I'm damaged, as I'm sure you know, Part One
Sabra Trevail was born in the year 1269, the oldest of seven children to a young couple in a small Irish village. Life was hard and times were tough. Soon after the birth of the seventh child, Sabra's mother died of a fever. Since she was the oldest, the duties of running the household fell on her ten year old shoulders. Her father became a drunk after the loss of his wife. Many nights Sabra had to go out to find food for her younger brothers and sisters. The responsibilities weighed heavy on her young shoulders however, and she became bitter and resentful, jaded at an early age. She hated her mother for leaving, and hated her father for his weakness.
As the years passed, Sabra realized there was only one way to change all that her life had become, and that was to marry. The only problem with this solution, she was the most unattractive girl in the village. Her nose was too large, her eyes too far apart, her chin was sloped. But her determination was great and soon she was accepting a marriage proposal from Liam, the village idiot. He was, most of the time, unwashed, he was slow, and he was as ugly as she was. He thought she hung the moon. Once they were married, she moved out of her family's hut and into his. She learned to use his affection for her to her advantage to get what she wanted, even though they were so poor, it wasn't much.
They were married for almost a year when, as some might see it, a tragedy occurred. Liam was walking home from working in the fields one evening when he was kicked in the head by a horse and killed. Sabra didn't see this as a tragedy however, she was finally on her own, freedom and independence. She learned to provide for herself and lived happily for several months. Her father urged, bribed, and begged her to move back home, but she refused and the refusal severed the tattered ties she had with her family. Life went on and she soon settled herself into a comfortable routine. All was peaceful, people stayed away from her and she stayed away from them. That was probably why she was the last to hear of the plague sweeping through her village. The bodies of her family, of people she had grown up with, the few she considered friends, were discovered daily. Most times there were no signs of struggle, no signs of forced entry, just the lifeless, bloodless bodies left behind. Each night the huts of the affected got closer and closer to hers. She sat one night and thought over her options. There were whispered rumors about this "plague", and she knew it would be only a matter of time until her village was wiped out completely. She knew she could stay and be picked off along with everyone else, or she could leave and take her chances on the road.
Sabra prepared all through the night, packing her things, baking loaves of bread to take with her. By the early dawn light, she donned a pair of her late husband's trousers and a man's shirt, tucking her long braid of hair under a hat. She looked at her reflection one last time to find a young boy looking back at her, and then she set out walking from her village, her home. She walked through the day, passing little traffic and drawing no attention for the people she did pass. When darkness fell, she made camp and as she fell asleep, she wondered again where she was actually going, where her travels would take her. [ Continue ]
written by Lisa Roberts