Estelle: A Free Flash Fiction (Realistic Fiction) | Lore Publication
Estelle: A Free Flash Fiction (Realistic Fiction) - Lore Publication
Welcome to Lore Publication, a place where you can find insightful short stories and flash fiction to read for free! Here at Lore, everyone that works with us has one main goal in mind; to tell stories that are unique and thought provoking. No matter if it is a work of chilling horror, a high fantasy quest, a mysterious thriller, a thrilling mystery or a dystopian scifi story - Lore has something for every bookworm out there.For today's publication we have Estelle, an enchanting story that falls into the realistic fiction genre here on Lore! It has minor elements of other themes but generally speaking, we consider this to be a work of realistic fiction above all else. Set in older times, this story delves into the life of Estelle that has made a new village her home upon her marriage. However, tradgedy quickly befalls her 👀😨 Enjoy!
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| Image credit: pixabay.com |
It
wasn’t until she was thirty that Estelle found the one she wanted to
spend her life with. She’d never been fussy: her one desire for a life
partner was someone who would be emotionally strong, and few fitted the
bill. There had been whispers about Estelle for as long as she could
remember. She was hard and cold, aloof and taciturn. In a small gossipy
village, the suspicions weren’t likely to end once she settled down.
More likely her partner would become the subject of speculation and
rumor. What did he or she see in Estelle? What did the two of them get
up to in that isolated house on the hill?
The
villagers didn’t like strangers as a rule; so incomer Geraint, flitting
where the wind took him, should have had a hard time. Instead, his
honest, open face won them over. Everyone, from the cold-hearted potter
to the narrow-minded water diviner, fell in love with him. It took her
some time to trust him enough to let him really know her; and when he
did, she knew she had found the one. He made her happy and laugh, but
more importantly she never considered that he would leave; no matter how
much she teased and warned him off. Even so, it was unnerving for
Estelle the morning the baker’s assistant smiled at her, letting her
know what joyful news it was to hear that Geraint was moving in. Not
that many years previously, people would have told Geraint to stay away
from the harpy in the bindweed bedecked cottage who had buried all her
family long before their time. Where Estelle was concerned, the
villagers had been protective of newcomers in spite of their antipathy
towards them.
When
the wedding came it was well attended. The faces beamed wide at
Estelle, where she had formally seen only scowls in her direction.
Estelle may have been considered an enchantress by the villagers, but
little did they know Geraint was the one casting spells.
Two
years into married life, they had a well-stocked and tended cottage
where villagers often gathered to discuss herbs and remedies. As they
lay in bed each morning, Estelle would comment to Geraint how much he
had changed things; how she almost missed the bitter, barbed comments
that used to fly her way. Geraint would shake his head and say it must
have all been in her imagination; then carried on naming the tens of
children they would have in time.
His
dreams were not to be, fate had dictated. Geraint’s light went out just
as the seed he had planted started to grow. One morning Estelle rose,
and Geraint didn’t follow her downstairs. She made fennel tea; he didn’t
respond to its tempting aroma. She let him sleep and climbed the stairs
at lunchtime with bread and cheese. When he still didn’t wake, the tray
clattered to the floor and Estelle’s heart shut to the world.
Geraint’s
body stopped working. There were no suspicious circumstances, no
fingers pointed Estelle’s way. Geraint was taken away, the funeral
organised without her. Estelle was escorted into and out of church by
watchful, tender elders. The wake went on around her. Estelle was numb
to what had happened, and what was still to come.
Every
day the women of the village took the steep path to visit, carrying
cake and soothing advice. Estelle remained quiet, just as she always
had, the seed in her belly putting down roots. When the aunts and
mothers became aware of Estelle’s condition, they stopped their cake
baking and took to inviting themselves to dinner. They brought stews or
hearty broths on occasion, and sat with the distant one to make sure she
ate every mouthful.
It
seemed that with Geraint’s charming of the village, Estelle and any
offspring, would be cared for; no matter her quirkiness and
discomforting stillness. She was now shy, they claimed, not stand-offish
as they had once thought. The poor girl wasn’t evil or wicked. Her
mother had died young and Estelle hadn’t been taught all she needed to
know or the right way to behave. People should have made allowances.
Better a late start than none.
When
the time came for Geraint’s daughter to be born, Estelle put the red
and purple rug on the line as she had been directed. The women of the
village trailed up the path, two-bytwo, to take their allotted shifts.
Not many hours later, Roisin arrived screaming, the spit of her father.
Estelle
watched her grow, knowing Roisin was never truly hers. Of the two
things Estelle loved most in her life, one was given to her by the
other, and she could keep neither.
Roisin
was schooled and spoilt by all, a gift to the village with her ready
smile and quick wit. Everyone loved her as they had her father, and
through her they continued to reach out to her mother.
When
Roisin left the village to see the world, Estelle was alone again,
knowing she would never share her home with another. Nevertheless,
mountains had moved in the twenty years since Geraint had stumbled into
her life. Instead of retreating, as she might once have done, Estelle
chose to bask in the love and care of those around her. She used her
knowledge of herbs and nature to make life better for others. In time,
Estelle was referred to as an old sage, not the crone or hag she might
once have become.
Writer Information - Before You Go!
This wonderful flash
fiction was selected as the Mystery Category Winner in Lore Fiction’s 2018
Launch Writing Contest! Having been first published on Lore's medium page, it
has been ported here to Lore's new online home! This moving realistic fiction
tale was written by Sarah Ann Hall.
Do you have a realistic
fiction tale to tell? Or maybe your story falls into other genres besides realistic
fiction? Perhaps sci-fi, or horror? Lore’s Chief Editor, Stewart, has an open
mind when it comes to fiction! So be sure to give your story a shot with us.
