Although this blog was created a while ago, it was only recently that it became a proper writer's blog. A portfolio, if you will, of my work pieces from uni and personal pieces which might one day be published.
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Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Frank, Cordelia and Jose
Once
upon a time there was a man named Frank Letras. He owned a farm located in a
remote place, outside the city of Evora, in Alentejo, which in turn is situated
in Portugal. His father got the wife of his servant pregnant, and since he had
no more heirs, he left Frank the farm in his will. He lived in the farm with
his wife, who had been married to him for two years…
- …three.
- What? It has not
been three years.
- Yes it has Frank. I
remember 'cause it was the "best" day of my life.
Alright, so they had
been married for three years. Before they were married, they only met once.
- This is your future
husband, C, Francisco Letras. I'll leave you two alone.
- Did he really have
to do the flair and the wink when he introduced me?
- Uncle Herbert means
well.
- You say that 'cause
you don't have to live with him!
- So, why do you live
with him?
- Why does he call
you C?
- I asked first!
- My father died when
I was nine. He left me a farm, but until I turn sixteen uncle and auntie will
live here with me.
- Oh, this farm is
yours?
- In paper. So, why
does he-
- He says my name
belongs to a cow, not a pretty girl like me. I'm Cordelia.
- I believe it's the
first time I agree with him. From now on I shall call you C as well.
- I'm flattered.
Jose, one of Frank's
farm workers, lived in a small house next to the mansion. The house had been
built per the request of Frank's father, for the servants to live in. Frank and
Jose had grown up together in the farm. They would play together, and while
Frank taught Jose to read and write, Jose, in his turn, taught Frank all about
cow milking and sheep clipping.
- So, Frank me good
friend, how's the business goin'?
- A little slow this
month, but I'm hoping my Cordelia will render me some money.
- The cow?
- No, my wife! Hah hah
hah! She's been sowing some dresses to sell at the market. Once she is done
with them could you take them to the market along with the food and wool and
try to sell them for a good price?
- No problem at all.
Just hand them to me when they're ready.
- I will, thanks.
Speaking of Cordelia, she's been acting strange, you know, always avoiding me.
Even in bed, and that was always her favourite time of day-
- I'm sure she's
pro'bly jus' overworked. Believe me, hard work does get to you. Or I should say
me.
- You're feeling
overworked? Would like a little time off?
- Don' be daft! All
I'm sayin' is give C a break.
Later on.
-How was your day,
Cordelia?
- Average. Were you
with Jose again? His stench is all over you!
- Yes I was with him.
But the stench is from the cows.
- You were milking
cows again? What do you have workers for, if you are the one doing the work?
- I was only helping
him. He is my friend after-
- Friend? Hah! If he
was your friend he would not be sleeping out in that little doll house. He would
have his own farm!
- What are you
implying?
- You know very well
what I'm-
- I told you I never
wanted to talk about that again. It's between me an' 'im/
- /Now you're
talking like him./
- /an' me and him
promised each other we would never talk about it agai-
- Well, I made no
such promise.
- It's none of your
business. It's between-
- Oh, yes it is. I am
your wife. You have to admit it, Frank, you two are from very different worlds.
And your whole friendship is based on your feelings of guilt because even
though he is your half-brother, he will never have half the life you did
because your father was not his.
- Are you done?
- Yes- No. What your
father did or did not do is not your fault. And even if it was, being friends
with Jose does not eliminate his whole life. Besides, you are not his only
friend in this world, he is not alone.
- I know. He gets
letters more frequently than me or you, or anyone else in this farm!
The farm was located
in an isolated place, and they rarely got post, as the postman did not bother
to deliver their mail regularly. Jose often received a lot of letters from
friends he would meet at the market. Frank, although not admittedly, felt
jealous for Jose's popularity, so he regularly asked his friend to share the
content of the letters with him, when they seemed interesting. At one point the
letters became more frequent, and Jose seemed reluctant to share them with
Frank. This made him even more jealous and enticed his curiosity to find out
what was in the letters. Frank went on asking his friend until one morning Jose
offered:
- Frank, I'll give
you one of my letters, as long as you pay me several week's wages. My clothes
aren' exactly bran' new an' I haven' been able to afford much more than food.
- You know that is
not a problem, Jose. I'll pay you now, and you give me one of your letters…
- I'm afraid I've
opened all the letters I received last week. But I happen to know I'll be
receiving a rather important letter later today. If you'd like I could sell you
that one. You'll have to pay me now, but I'll only be able to give it to you
tomorrow. I'm going to the market later today and that way I can buy the
clothes then.
So it was settled,
Frank payed Jose and went back home, anxious for the following day. The next
day he got up and dressed, and went straight to Jose's house. He knocked but no
one answered and the door was locked. He went home to get the extra key to the
house. He went in and saw a note on the wooden table which read "Went out.
Letter is in the mailbox." He went to the mailbox, in front of the main
gate and opened it. Inside he found the letter. Filled with excitement, he
could not wait to get home to read it. He opened it, and saw there was a small
piece of paper, which he found strangely recognisable. The note was written in
a delicate handwriting, which he also recognised. Holding the paper in his
hands, he read:
Dear Jose,
I have already packed
my bags. Frank remains ignorant. I feel terrible leaving him this way, but I
can not stand this life anymore. I do not want to stay at home sowing and
knitting and washing and cleaning for my husband, until I have his child, and
then have to do all that with a toddler in my arms. I want adventure, freedom,
romance, passion and I can not wait any longer. Can not wait to leave this
stupid farm. Can not wait to be with you, without sneaking around. Can not wait
for us to spend the rest of our lives together.
Love, Cordelia.
Labels:
Cordelia,
Frank,
Jose,
short story
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