3. Ricky's Torments

Ricky's Torments

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    ((This story is also posted in the Tales of the Fire, but since I am restarting the character I reposted it here. All of this happened before Ricky ever came to Narfell.))

    Ricky's Torments

    The human on the other side of the fire is neither tall nor small, we can still see that, despite the age that has him bent over slihgtly, marked his face and greyed his hair. Now he slightly lifts his head and looks at us, turning those hazelnut brown eyes - those eyes that have seen much, much pain - to examine us. His lips twitch a little, before he opens his toothless mouth to speak in an even tone to us.

    "So ye want to learn about me? Listen to me life's its sad story? If ye ask me, yer wastin yer valuable time. Go spend it wit' a beautiful girl, instead!" At the mention of this those sad, sad eyes sparkle with a momentary joy and a smirk forms on his lips. "Well, well. Alright so I'll tell ye, since yer not goin. Can't say I mind the company either."

    One of his still faintly muscular arms picks up a branch and pokes the fire causing flames to roar up again. For a moment the man watches the flickering of the fire fascinated, then he begins: "So ye know I'm Ricky. Tha's always been my name. Haven't always been proud of it, though. But I'm gettin ahead of myself. If ye really want to understand why I did what I did, I oughta start at the beginnin. I oughta tell ye about my pa."

    "Dad, well, I guess he never really forgave me that I killed my own poor mother. Being a little bugger myself then, I didn't comprehend what I'd done. But I understood early on that I'd done somethin real bad, real nasty. Mostly I can remember bein beaten for it, too. Sometimes Pa would only lock me in a closet, when I didn't deserve beatin. Sometimes I'd get both, though. I figure I mostly did somethin te deserve it, too, sometimes just tiny things. But I was goin te tell ye how I found out about me killin me own mum. It's the first thing I can clearly remember. It was on a late summer's day, I must have been like six or seven years old."

    The grey haired man pauses momentarily and if we looked closely, we might spot a tear or two in those eyes. But before we can be sure, he blinks once at the fire and continues with his tale. "It's just the age a boy starts te ask questions and make conclusions. Well, ye see, all them other children in the village, they had like a mother except me. So that one day, at lunch. It was a rainy day, so we weren't workin out on the fields, Dad was chewin at a piece of pig, I think, and he seemed in a good mood. So I figured I could ask why I didn't have a mother."

    The old man takes a deep breath and shakes his head before letting it out slowly. "What followed was like the worst beatin I ever got. Pa kept shoutin about how I was a monster and that I murdered her and things like that. He kept beatin me with everythin he could grasp until I passed out, and prolly some more after that. Couldn't even lie down nor stand nor sit without achin for the next month. But the worst part was that I never dared te ask a question of my own pa again."

    For a while there's an uncomfortable silence, only the soft crackling of the firewood dares to break it. For a moment we ponder if we should hug the old man or steal away quietly, heeding his earlier advice. Then he looks over at us again, shrugs slightly and continues with an almost comfortingly peaceful tone. "Anyway Dad taught me a lot about huntin and workin on fields and things like that, but he also found plenty of other reasons te beat me or lock me up. Like not sayin 'Good mornin' quite loud enough or not cleanin the stable on time. One of them days, I did a terrible thing. Afraid te take too long wit plowing, I drove the ox too hard. Didn't notice he'd done somethin to his front leg. Not until it was too late."

    "When Dad found out, he just hit me square in the face and stuffed me in the closet. Then he forgot all about me. Didn't get nuthin to drink or eat fer a tenday. When I was already certain I'd die a friend of mine, Cathy. Lovely young girl, eyes like the sky on a clear summer's day, an' the hair in the matching color of hay. Anyway, Cathy snuck into my pa's house and found me. Tha's when everythin changed. She wasn't just a friend, too. Back then she was like the only friend I had at the time. The other kids, well, I was easily scared, back then, if one raised a fist, I'd go all limp and weepy. Tha's different now, though."

    While he's talking his eyes have left us alone and he uses the branch to stab angrily at the fire. "Back te the story, though, shan't we? Cathy freed me and she said we was to run away. And so we did. What happened then, isn't cheerful. But I've talked enough for now. I need te get somethin te drink." Out of a pocket of his cloak he pulls a flask and sips from it, then offers it to us with a friendly, toothless smile. "Good stuff. Want some?"

    The man stares a while longer at the flask before pocketing it. With a deep rumbling sound he clears his throat and turns to face us again. For a long moment he just watches us, his eyes seeking something in our face. Giving up after a few seconds, he shrugs. "I suppose ye want te know what happened te Cathy. I keep tellin ye te spend yer time wit something else."

    "I really don't wanna talk about it, okay?"His eyebrows form a deep frown but since we make no move to leave, he decides finally to continue with his story. "Well, if ye must know, two days gone we ran inte some real bad guys. Like real mean robbers. I was still weak, damnably weak, so I couldn't even defend myself. Even less Cathy. She tried te defend herself and me, but she was no match for them robbers. They brought her down te the ground and then… Look, I really don't wanna talk about this."

    The old man stares gloomily into the flames, picking pu the branch again. We aren't entirely certain, but it almost feels as if the fire spreads more light, mabye though the man just became paler. When he speaks again, his tone is lifeless and reverently quiet. "It was in a cave. Comfortable one, we had thought it empty, thought it was a great place te rest for the night. Of course, the hay was there because of them robbers. They raped her. There, I said it. All the time one of them pinned me down, pressed his boot right down on my chest, drove all air out of my lungs. The more I struggled, the more air I lost."

    The man glares at us, his face filled with the flickering reddish light of the fire, all his hatred turned on us for a long moment. When he breaks off the eyecontact and glowers furious at the fire, we dare to breath again. "At some point, I passed out, couldn't hear her scream no more. When I regained my senses, the screamin was replaced by a constant sobbin. I guess they thought me dead, for I was lyin in a corner of the cave. Somehow I crawled over te Cathy's cryin and the two of us managed te escape."

    "I carried her all the way back, didn't know where else te go. She never stopped sobbin, either, called for her mother. It was a mistake, though. They thouhgt nasty Ricky who had killed his own mother, now had done this te poor, sweet Cathy. Soon as we was back, they took Cathy and grabbed me, pushed me in a barn's tiny closet and bolted the door." The old man lifts his head, shooting us a defiant glance. "Ye thought perhaps, this was nothin new te me. But this time, it was different. In the darkness, I could hear their laughter, her screams and I felt the boot on my chest again, pressin the air right out of my lungs."

    "I don't recollect exactly how, but I sure as hell broke a plank ou of the side of the barn and crawled out. Still lyin on my back, gulpin for air, that's when I cauhgt sight of Sean. Ye have te understand that Sean was like the important boy. Everyone of us children always did what Sean said. He simply was the strongest, bravest and brightest. And he was Cathy's brother. He didn't quite like that she'd call me a friend, either. At tha moment, when he saw me, I looked him right in the eyes, when he saw me there, gulpin for air, his eyes, they spoke of death."

    The old man pauses again, one of his hands smoothens down the remains of greay hair, while his eyes are fixed on the fire. Watching the flames thin out and shrink, we add another log to the fire. The man rewards us with a slight smile from his toothless mouth. "Thanks. Anyways, there was I on the ground and five of the boys shoutin an throwin things at me. I got his a couple of times, before I managed te get up and run. Stones kept hittin me, and I just kept on runnin. Didn't look back, kept my feet movin until I fell over and didn't find the strength te get up. Maybe I would have gone back, but I could still hear Sean shoutin about how his sister was dead, that Cathy had killed herself and he said because of me."

    For a split second we think the man might start crying, then he just heaves a deep sigh. "Ye see? Life ain't fair. Even then, as a small boy, I realized that people are gonna blame me. I had no other choice than te try and make my own way. So I set off te find it, but there were some people in the woods who found me first. The Hunters."

    His eyes empty out as he stares into the fire and yawns once, for a while there is no sound. We wonder if we should speak up, then we can hear soft snoring noises from him. It occurs to us, that the man just fell asleep, even though his eyes are wide open. Patiently we wait for him to wake up from his well earned sleep.

    … to be continued ...

    ((Account login: "noth1ng" Character name: "Ricky Natter"


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