Innocence...

Tears mingled with sweat as it rolled down Jim’s face. He emptied his shovel with another violent jerk, and dug it viciously into the heart of the earth.

Ordinarily, there was not a pleasanter fellow to be found in all England. Jim Donovan was wont to sing and whistle as he worked, and ever had a merry word for a passer-by. But today his face was hard and grim, and when he did break into speech, he swore, in a raspy cracked voice that had in it a scarcely suppressed sob.

Now and then he would break off to glare with burning hatred at the gables of the mansion half hidden by a lofty grove of ash-trees that swayed majestically with the breeze. He cursed as he looked, cursed, with bitter, searing anguish the man who owned it, his landlord -  Lord Algernon Rutherford, Duke of Sale.

His heart seemed like to burst as the memories washed over him again. Himself kneeling and crying before the Duke, begging for his help; … His Grace, indifferent, languid, lips curling in disdainful hauteur as he ordered the servants to drag Jim out; and the wan and wasted features of his dying daughter .. A face once plump and rosy … his merry, bright-eyed little Lucy … He writhed anew in the utter helplessness that had engulfed him as she lay languishing and dying. Dying … and all for want of a little money.

He moaned aloud as her face rose afresh before him, and the impotent rage in his heart rose again to a veritable tempest. He screamed another curse at the sun-warmed gables as he began to dig again, faster and yet more ferociously.

The patter of light, childish feet arrested his attention. He forced apart the thorny hedge in front of him and stood staring down into the clearing, wondering who it was that came.

His heart leapt to his throat. A little girl - a child barely six, with flaxen curls and sea- blue laughing eyes… She came running out of the trees, chattering gaily to her weary nursemaid.

His heart raced as he devoured her with his eyes. For an instant of fey joy, he had almost believed he beheld his own Lucy, for the child had her hair, her eyes, even her tinkling laugh. The appearance of the nursemaid, however, made him realize who the girl must be.

“His daughter" he thought, and suddenly revulsion and hatred rose up in him, so that he longed to strike her down, felt a savage, absolutely animal desire to maul - to kill her.

Wrenching himself away, Jim compelled hands trembling with rage to gouge out more of the rich red earth.  Over and over again as he stabbed as though it was in truth his hated foe he smote.

The loud baying of hounds from the road drew involuntarily his gaze .He realized at once that it was the hunt coming home, the tireless dogs well ahead of the huntsmen cantering leisurely to their dinner. The horsemen were only dimly visible yet, but the leaping, snarling hounds, still aquiver with the excitement of the chase, tore madly across the fields. Obedient no more to their masters’ shouts, they were running right through the gardens to the grove … they were heading straight for the girl!

He felt gloating, exulting triumph as he watched them draw closer to the baby, who cooed and gurgled over her posies in blissful ignorance of all else. Her nursemaid sat nearby, her back to a lichen-smoothed tree-trunk. She was fast asleep.

 “Providence!” he hissed. “Providence has undertaken my vengeance, Duke! Now thy daughter will die as mine did, in agony unrelieved!”

The dogs’ growls grew louder and wilder as Jim watched them closing in for the kill with an eager expectation that peaked anew with every deep-drawn breath. Still she stood there, entirely oblivious, warbling and twiddling her jasmine.

As he watched her, a new emotion - an emotion almost drowned at fist by his blind hatred - began to vie with the bitter triumph and desire for vengeance raging in his breast.

 “The child is Innocent; she does not deserve this gruesome end!” spake his better self - but his grief, astringent and vindictive, was stronger; it persisted - “She is his daughter, his daughter … she pays for his Crime ... for my little Lucy”

 “She is a guileless child!” insisted his better nature.

He was rooted to the spot, his mind a whirl of confused, conflicting impulses battling for ascendancy.  He could try to save her, or he could satiate his charred heart by watching her being torn apart by the fearsome hounds. No one would ever know he had been there...  

As the hounds crossed into the clearing, the child looked up at last. With a terrified scream she began to run homewards, wailing distractedly.

The child’s scream stabbed Jim’s heart like a dagger thrust in to the hilt. In that instant, he knew he could not - would not let a child die and stand by unmoved

He jumped into the clearing and scooped her up in one swift, fluid motion. Even as he began to run the massive bulldog nearest him sank his fangs into Jim’s bare ankle.

Jim held the shrieking child clasped to his chest as he fell, shielding her with his body. He lashed out with his shovel, and felled his first antagonist, but the rest of the pack was on him ere he could pull to his maimed feet. With a desperate leap Jim gained the nearest tree-trunk. Planting his back to it and holding the child high on his shoulder he could fend off the dogs awhile, protract the struggle - unless aid came swiftly, however, there was not much doubt of the end. Already he was dizzy with pain and copious blood loss, and though he fought with all his might he knew it would not be long before he collapsed.      

The commotion had woken the nurse, who had run back to the house weeping and shrieking hysterically. Soon a dozen servants were running back with her, armed with sticks, stones, rakes, guns, whips - anything and everything they could find.

As for Lord Algernon Rutherford - ever languid, invariably composed, the finest embodiment of cynical dandyism the haut monde had been favoured with - very few of his most fervent admirers would have would have recognized that Tulip of Fashion just then. Wig askew, boots scratched and splattered with mud, his beautiful dove-coloured coat and satin breeches ripped and dragged a hundred ways by the thorns and brambles, he scrambled through the trees and bushes, crying “Gerty!- Gerty!” at the top of his voice.

With his daughter clutched to his breast, he turned with brimming eyes to her preserver. Lord Algernon Rutherford, Duke of Sale, stood staring in dawning shame and wonder at the wounded and bleeding body of Jim Donovan, peasant - the man whose daughter he had slain.

Author's Note

There were two versions, SOUL LESS put up mine by accident.

Reviews

[Warrior]

Great story telling. This did justice in the realm of getting the message across. Great message. There's lot of times where a story can have a great message to aim for, and have a lot of under lining things but then no one gets it, and if no one gets it, then the point has failed. But in my opinion this did well to get the message across. You made it clear, which is why I think it's good. Keep up the good work. What was also great was that I could imagine the story as I read it, and that is also a strong point of stories. The ability to have the reader imagine it because after all we're reading not watching it, but it was as if I was there as I read this, and that is great. Great visuals and great story telling. It had plot and substance. When you add substance to writing it gets that much better. It gets the reader hooked on it and make them feel as if they are part of it. As long as their is that emotional connection between the reader and the story then it's good.

[Sarusai Hiryu]

Thank you!

[The dark story]

this story is just so stunning.highlighting the nature of people.their simultaneous feeling of revenge and love.it's really great.awesome work!!!!!

[Sarusai Hiryu]

Thanks!

[Alvin L. Kathembe]

good work - you brought out the feudal setting very well. Jim's resentment towards his landlord is also very well brought out...I like the way you write! It has this quaint feeling to it...great job!
and in the end we see that many of lowly birth or station are many times the betters of their masters. great work!

[An owl on the moon]

What a dynamically expressed work.. filled with emotionally stunning moments.. a reality in words.

[CalebSchadeck]

great vivid descriptions it puts me in the middle of the story I could imagine a very rich house with the poor peasant working to make mince-meat. I would have liked to see more of a description of the rich person (the person who killed Jim's daughter) and as to why he would kill her, maybe open the story from the point of view of the killer make the reader feel anger tward the person before they are ever introduced to Jim, this will make the reader become more attached to
him it will also make the character more real seeming
very well written and a very good cliff hanger ending, would love to see where this story goes, keep it up!

[PrincessZeldaWannabe]

Great description! It's a really lovely story!

[KATHY SUE SILLS]

Very well written as was the other version!

amazing and vivid. i cant wait to read more or your work.

[steph]

This is brilliant.... Thanks for letting me read it