Three Word Wednesday- Third Eye
Heave; verb: [With object] lift or haul (a heavy
thing) with great effort; [with object] produce (a sigh); [no object] rise and
fall rhythmically or spasmodically; noun: An act of heaving, especially a
strong pull.
Ponder; verb: Think about (something) carefully,
esp. before making a decision or reaching a conclusion.
Valid; adjective: (Of an argument or point) having a
sound basis in logic or fact; reasonable or cogent; legally binding due to
having been executed in compliance with the law; legally or officially
acceptable.
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to visit talented writers posts that post for three word Wednesday- http://www.threewordwednesday.com/
This is a WIP I'm working on, a book it is tentatively called Wake
Third Eye
My name is Mary Katherine Kendall, but I and others
call myself Kiki, just don’t do it in my grandmother’s presence. I live with grandmother
and my mother on the banks of the Thames in the city of London, Ontario,
Canada. My father is deceased-we think-
but that is a story I will tell you another day. Like most young women I have led a sheltered
life but living with Grandmother Yarborough has made it even more so.
Harriet Yarborough, my grandmother is the epitome of
upper crust, still lived in a world of long ago where women dressed a certain
way. Women acted a certain way; were sweet, demure, and coddled men. Women were
brought up to be the wife of a man, to encourage, enrich and make him
the perfect life partner. Daughters and granddaughters married
well and enriched the family coffers, so Grandmother felt that made her vision
valid.
Grandmother Yarborough felt that at twenty three, I
had let the family down, all because I had graduated from Western University. Women did
not seek higher education except to find a spouse. I felt like she compared me
and all other women to ornamental pieces on a chest board, chattel for the
families to sell to the highest bidder.
Her garden parties and her constant set-ups with her
friends' sons were getting more and more common. I couldn’t turn around without
bumping into this one or that one's son. My
mother’s disgust that said a first class education hadn’t netted me a man befitting our
station.
What decade did the woman live in? It was eighteen eighty
two, not eighteen hundred and nine the year she was born. My life altered a year
ago and not for the better. The day everything changed and my family treated me
as if I were glass. If only the accident hadn't happened. I’m sure a number of
people in the city said that.
It was the Queen’s birthday, May twenty fourth, eighteen eighty one, a day that will forever be engraved in Londoners' minds. Grandmother
surprised us all by saying that would have a picnic in Springbank Park. Mother
had taken to her bed with a cold; however,so we went without her. We arrived in
the park, and I watched as others too enjoyed the warm day. The servants unpacked
a feast fit for the Queen. We celebrated.
We had our picnic, and it grew late the servants were
packing up the fine linen and the china dishes and goblets when Grandfather Kendall suddenly
appeared.
“Good day to you, ladies. Our sovereign is sixty-two
years old today. Happy birthday to her, and God save our Queen.”
“It is so vulgar that we know Queen Victoria’s
age. If you were a gentleman, you wouldn’t mention it,”
Grandmother responded.
“If all ladies look as good at sixty-two and had all
those children, we would all be lucky men.”
“Disgusting, you are a repulsive old man,” Grandmother
had replied angrily.
“I hope that’s not what you tell all your gentlemen callers, Essie,” he had quipped.
“You, as my gentlemen caller? Never again, Kendall, will
I fall for your foolish talk,” she had said dismissively turning her head.
“Aw, Essie, you know you like me,” he had said, his
eyes twinkling, a ready smile on his lips. “The Victoria has a boat tour down
the river .Come with us, dear lady.” He had asked, holding up three tickets, one
for him, one for me, and one for Grandmother.
“My name is Esther, not Essie and I did not give you
leave to call me by my first name. I do not like the water, Benjamin. If you
knew me at all you would remember that,” Grandmother had responded.
“Aw, Essie, if you tried it. You would like it. Just
because your brother held you under the water once…”he began.
“This discussion has ended. By all rights, I should
forbid you to take my granddaughter on this foolish trip down the river. She
cannot swim,” Grandmother had responded angrily.
“Oh my dear Esther, I have taught her to swim when
she was young,” Grandfather replied, laughing.
“You did what? Do you know how seemly that was a
young lady swam in the river? What contagions might be in there?” Grandmother asked.
Grandmother angrily threw back her shoulders her breath heaving, she stamped her foot in frustration. If I hadn’t known before, I would have
pondered that conversation, but I knew that long ago they had dated.
Grandmother had broken off the relationship with my paternal grandfather and
married Henry Yarborough, making my parent’s relationship like Romeo and
Juliet. When Grandmother found out she forbid the relationship and encouraged an
engagement to a Howard Cleveland. Of course mother eloped with father and grandmother
was less than pleased.
I realized the conversation had gone on without me, and I hurried to acknowledge my part in it.
“It was years ago Grandmother that Grandfather
taught me to swim,” I responded, trying to mollify her.
“You, young woman, should not keep things from me. I
have told you before your grandfather is an foolish old man, who does not think
before he acts; so therefore you must think first before following him,” Grandmother
insisted.
“She was safe, Essie. I would guard her with my life.
Our granddaughter is always my top priority,” Grandfather had responded with
great seriousness.
“Very well, then.” Grandmother had agreed.
It was the last run of the day for the boat. We
boarded near the first of the throng that boarded the boat. A never ending
stream of people began to board the boat. I was surprised at the great number
of people who chose this ride. The boat pulled away from the shore and I became
uneasy. This boat had a double deck, but it seemed like too many people to me
for such a small boat. Grandfather too looked worried.
“I want to go talk to the captain. Come with me Mary
Katherine,” he had demanded.
I followed as we pushed our way through the crowds. There were far too many people. What were they
thinking to sell so many tickets?
“I wouldn’t be surprised if we were taking on
water,” Grandfather stated as he tried to push through the thick crowd of
people.
“But if we take on water won’t we sink?” I asked, frightened.
“Not if my friend, Captain Rankin, notices how
many people there. He is a wonderful captain and can pilot a boat with ease.
He’ll take us to shore,” Grandfather reassured me. “Oh, see, he’s turned the boat. I believe he’s headed back to shore. No worries, my dear child.”
“We’re very close to that bridge,” I had commented, worried that even with Grandfather’s valid argument we were in danger.
“That’s Cove Bridge, my dear. This won’t take long we
will be back on shore before you know it,” Grandfather responded. “I think he’s
going for the sandbar at the park there.”
Just then, I heard a cry go up as the crowd shouted, “Look at the rowers racing, and there is the Louise.
The Louise isn’t as fine a boat as this one.”
The crowd raced to the other side of the boat even
as Grandfather yelled, “No, don’t you’ll tip the boat. Run to the other side
before we tip.”
“Look out Mary Katherine look out.” he yelled.
The deck crumbled beneath my feet, and the upper deck
that we were standing on smashed into the lower one. Thrown violently into the
water rushing below, I felt something hit my head and knew no more.
© Sheilagh Lee February 20,2013
On May 24 , 1881 the Victoria, a steamer overcrowded, capsized shortly after passing some rowers on the Thames.Witnesses said the crowd rushed to one side of the boat to see the rower's race and the boat was swamped. Over six hundred people were on board though the captain had told them to evict some, few however disembarked before the boat left the shore. When the boat capsized an estimated two hundred, to two hundred and fifteen people died. Most families in London,Ontario, Canada lost one or more members.
cc. http://images.maritimehistoryofthegreatlakes.ca/59596/data
A terrible tragedy.
ReplyDeleteyes it was. I've often thought of those people wondered about them since I saw their memorial plaque when I was young.
ReplyDeleteThis is such a sad story. I hate to see her drown like that. Does she regain consciousness in time to save herself or does someone save her? What of her grandfather? You aren't ending it here, are you?
ReplyDeleteShe didn't drown though something happens that makes them treat her like glass. I'll post a little more of the story next week.
ReplyDeleteI love the set-up, lady! Glad to hear this isn't a ghost telling the story, too.
ReplyDeleteAnother tragedy must also be that an educated woman was seen as a failure - i hope that is changing..another diverse and interesting tale..
ReplyDeleteWhat a tragedy. Your narration kept me hooked till the end. Great narration!
ReplyDeletethank you Susan.
ReplyDeleteIt was a tragedy Jae Rose how in the eighteen hundreds some families did not value educated women.That has certainly changed but there are still pockets in the world as we all know that try to keep women uneducated.
Thank you Panchali
Amazing narration...almost feels like you have seen it...
ReplyDeletethank you atob
ReplyDelete