The man in the cottage sits patiently, uninterested in the woman who stands speechless in his doorway.
Misery clears her throat, tears stinging her blind eyes. “Is it you…?”
A pause.
“Young woman, I don’t think I am who you’re looking for.”
Quinn lets out a deep sigh. Of course, how stupid could she be… This weak man was not her father. Her father had probably moved closer to the village square to set up business. “Could you tell me where he is? His name was Brian, a stone cutter… He used to live here.”
“Brian, you say?” A little pulse of life drifts through his dull voice. “Stone cutter, you say?” He scrambles to his feet, clawed hands clutching an ancient cane, bony knees trembling.
She nods, heart pounding. “Please, m’lord. Tell me, where has he gone?”
“Down the end of the lane, dearest, but…” He hesitates, searching for the right words.
Getting impatient, Quinn bursts out, “What, what is it?!”
“Well, after his daughter left, Brian just sort of… faded away. That girl was all he lived for. He believed she’d return soon, so he stopped the mending he did for the ladies, stopped his stonecutting for the men… He sat in this house, day after day, watching and waiting for his Misery.”
Trembling, Quinn listens to the tale unfold, the events playing out in her mind as if she had been there.
“For three days he neither slept nor ate. ‘Waiting for my Misery’ he would say if someone asked him what he was doing. The townsfolk watched as your father wasted away, watching at the window on the slim hope his daughter would return, though in his heart he knew she would not.
“He died a few months later, we carried his body to the old cemetery. Quite a lovely funeral if I do say so myself. Aye, the town loved Brian.”
His voice takes on a thoughtful tone.
“We all wondered what had happened to that little girl…” He shrugs and smiles at Quinn. “Guess we’ll never know, eh?”
She tries to speak, but can’t find her voice. Her jaw works absently for a few seconds before she snaps it shut and turns on her heel, fleeing the old man and his story.
Its not true, it cant be true, my father is alive! He has to be…
Thoughts tumbling randomly over each other, she stumbles forward blindly, pale hand spasmatically clutching her staff. She makes her way through the town that used to be home, great sobs wracking her body, not caring who sees, something guiding her steps without her knowledge.
She stops slowly, berating herself harshly.
“Fool child, get ahold of yourself! Running through the town like a frightened sheep… Now, where are you?”
She turns to a passing aura and murmurs politely, “Could you tell me where I am?”
The old woman frowns at her before realizing she’s blind. Her mouth drops open and her dirty face takes on a look of pity. “Oh dearie, so lost you must be! Here, let me help you to my house, I’ll give you a good hot meal and a place to sleep… and I will no rob you blind like the Inns around here.” the old woman grabs at Quinns hand.
Frowning, Quinn pulls her hand away. “No ma’am, I just need to get my bearings…” Before she can say another word, her mothers voice asks through her mouth, “Am I near the cemetery?”
The old woman looks at her sternly. “Aye dearie, but you no be needing to go nigh that place. There do be spirits there, aye so there do.”
In her mind, the cold voice of her mother whispers to her…
The only way to find out about your father, little Misery, is to go in… What are you waiting for, child? Go in and see if its true!
Quinn ignores the voice for now, terror threading its way through her heart. She mutters to herself, “He cant be dead…” and shakes her head. “Could you just tell me where it is, ma’am?”
The old woman sighs. “Ye’r right in front of it dearie. But do no say I didn’t warn you, aye?” She scurries away quickly as if Quinn would blame her for it.
Misery stands at the entrance to the cemetery, hands on her staff, wondering if she can really go through with this.