Hannah Of May

Hannah had heard the legend once before when her mother said, “Do not go forth, and leave this shed.” But once upon a time, she once obeyed. Instead she made her mother, dismayed -- for she threw herself into the fray. Walking through the wood when the day broke, the allergies made her choke.

And then she saw the fire ring, where once the children came to sing. Just like the legend had told her about once before. It was a cold day in Winter, the same month of December, before the Christmas tide. But there would be no Christmas to abide, and listen to tired old carols. Instead it was her turn to harvest the food that was to be broiled fish.

And she took it home, while reading her tome. She had hid it from her mother, as told by her brother, before he left into the cold winter storm. For little Hannah, it was the time to find another life of rhyme, when her mother asked her where she went all the time. “I come from the wood, knowing you told me not to.” Hannah said, knowing her mothers fury. “But mom, I tried to hurry.”

The next morning, she went to plow her wooden shoes into the dirt, seeing many a sow and flowers smiling the day she walked to school. Didn’t care that she walked with nobody. As long as she had her Tome. But she wondered: What is the Tome about? It makes me want to pout. I shall open it later, or I shall shout.” School was normal, after word she put her shoes back on, And then went home to run on to see her mother, who made dinner.

Which was the one thing she enjoyed, that made her life bearable of the life in the village of the snow.

On another day, other friends that visited came to say, “Why don’t you walk with us through the forest, in the month of May. For it should be warmer, and we shall play.”

“Nay, for I have much work to do.” After all, she was already behind on schoolwork, and could not imagine anything else. This was her particular quirk. If she had no work to do this would make her tap her wooden shoe. Tap, Tap, Tap. She wanted to dance her own special dance, unlike the others who knew another dance. This would be her chance, that put her in a trance. “I want to play in the forest, and go to chant. The song of flowers in their bloom.”

“Honey, it’s time for mushroom soup.” mother’s voice said.

“Oh I love mushroom soup,” Hannah said, although she only liked it fairly well. She could live with it, until the month of May. For it was the season, for the death of the harvest. She wanted to be the queen of the harvest, for Summer and Spring. Glistening in the light, running in the field. Enjoy the time, of Springs mild weather.

And she slept dreamful dreams. But that Tome, she wanted to read, For it was become her need, “What is inside the Tome.” The book gave a chant:

“Come little Hannah, Come.
Satisfy your reading.”

She resisted until the month of may, until it made her eyes bleed. She turned to page one. It would be seen, by no one else.

A few months go by, the girls watch the birds fly. And they run through the forest. Hannah could not keep up with the best. When they arrived at the camp, It was the girl Hannah considered a tramp, that help with the tent. For the girl that was our champ was not one to get her hands dirty, not one to dip her hands into the water, and make them murky. Instead she watched, building resentment amongst her kin.

When they built a tent again, one insisted she help merge the tents. And when she did, she hurt her shin. Never one to wine again, she chose to help mend the tent. And then they day drew to a close, they hurried into the tent before setting up the fire, where the boys look at the other girls and admired.

And she sat at the far wall, mourning the issue to not have it all. But she had her book, and it was a diary for the old Queen of the legend. and the cover she took to bend opened smoothly in her finger tips. While the other kids, made their nips. One made quips. “Have you seen anyone read as much,” he said, his face glowing by the fire. “If she were a scholar, they’d give her many tips.

She simply sipped her drink from her cantine cup, and then gave them a wink. “So how much do you read, or do you not feel that need. To look at pages, with a breed of intelligence you will never have.”

“Slaughter a Calf with your mouth.” the boy said, making the other children laugh. Treating her like a potty mouth, She took the diary, put it in her pouch. The boy walked up to her, as she packed for the night. “So what sort of book is it?”

“What does it matter to you?” Hannah said.

“Just wondering.” the boy said.

“Why wonder, if you don’t read?”

“Maybe I might feel the need.”

And she thought;

Mary Beth burned in a fire,
But at least the others, followed
Her into the fire.

I can’t say the same for them.

As she went to sleep whether others would make a peep at her while she went to sleep. And whether any of the legend was true. For what was to come, who knew? It was the following morning, that he decided when she came out to play, “Why go back home, stay with us. For we shall make you are Queen.

She did not like the sound, of his voice. Was not sure what they meant, by making her the queen. Did not know what it meant, and made her want to leave. It reminded her of the dream from the night before, where the others where a snore. She dreamed of her self, by the fire of the night. Of her friends, like children playing in the night. “Are you still thinking about the legend? Do not, for it’s an old wives tale.”

Hannah did not like the sound of that, bad luck happened when she heard that. Of the books she has read, of legends born. The many children, slaughtered by the thorn. She remembered the crown, her head adorn. “Do I look worried?” she said, looking at the flying birds of the forest. Of the pretty flowers, flowing in the breeze of the morning sun. And then one of the boys, made them breakfast. Through her a glance, thought it was his chance. “If you want to be the Queen, give us a chance. Help make the breakfast.” He said to fast, for her to keep up with his lips. So she stopped trying.

And it the evening the followed, that made her leave.

Thing turned for the first, like a witches weave.

“Well you the queen, ate breakfast at least.”

“It was simply, using the grown yeast.” that she had brought with her, on the camping trip by that particularly ring of fire. But she tried not to worry about it, at least for a little while. But then the conversation began to change. And they began to chant, in an up beat rhythm. At first she could not sing the sound of song and chant, till she became tired and made her pant. And then she paused, because of her hurt shin.

“Is something wrong my queen?” one boy said.

“Nothing is wrong, what wrong with your voice?” Hannah said.

“What do you mean my queen?”

“And what do you mean by queen?”

They children turned to face her.

They wanted to make her, their queen. Not wanting the legend to be recycled a new. She hit one in the face, with her shoe. And then put it on, and ran off back for home. With her tome she kept. She could here the sound of children step. And they stepped and stepped and stepped, until eventually she arrived at home. Opened the door, and then her heart did not stop heaving into the evening began to fade.

At school, the boy she thought she knew said, “You know we were just joking right?” he looked at her with a polite smile. “We would never want you as our queen.”

“Whatever, do that again.” Hannah said.

“If you say so, Queen Hannah.” the boy said.

And she wondered, at that moment ...

How much of the legend was true.

She pictured in her mind, her picture of Mary Beth dancing in the flowers, staring at the mountain towers. Into the big blue sky, into the gardens that grew the rye. Promising never to let anything happen to her tome. Hannah never went to the forest again -- not in the night or the day, even as the children promised ... not to do it again.

For if anything else besides Mary Beth, it was her shin. Hannah gently rubbed it to take the pain away. She wanted to burn Mary Beth’s book in a fire. But instead she kept it, and consumed it in its entire. Never took it with her though, on subsequent trips.

The problems never happened since.

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