The Button

The cold metal outer ring shone through the cloth as she tightly wrapped her hood shut. The patterns in the everlasting knot kept her close to her path. It was her mothers from the other kingdom before she was married off to the kingdom of the coast. The wind rang through her ears and she pulled up her hood to cover her face and slipped the button through the eye. Her thumb traced the old celtic patterns that laced the outer rim of the soul button of her belonging. The dark was painting the sky to illuminate the dusty moon which more or so looked like a cats eye. Its tail swept down, blowing fog into the ginnel as she crept through the muck. She was banned from leaving the castle for the wood that lay beyond the point had a poisonous thought that seeped into the minds of the townsfolk. Though she promised to visit. She did. The dreams and nightmares of small children lit up the forest with unimaginable creatures that should not have come to be. she gripped her basket closely and swiftly floated amongst the fog. No one had noticed her for the townsfolk caressed their children and blew out candles in their bedrooms, preparing for the nights rest. She reached the edge of the kingdom and wrapped her slender fingers around a small iron grate. She need not worry, for her dress was left on the bed and she had put on her husbands trousers to trample into the mote. Soon after, the edge of the woods was near and she grasped at the neck of her hood, feeling the button. The hope of a guide was far from possible at this time, but the button held the hope of her dear mothers will for travel. She entered the thick, dark mass and prayed to her God that she would find her path. The scent of bread grew from her basket since the stench of the town had left. The forest hid all that it could like a mask at the ball. The beauty of it escaped her mind as she felt a waltz in harmonious correlation to the music of the soft wind. The house was not much further, well so she thought. A well of butterflies began spiralling out of her mouth when she heard a crack. The light of the house was visible from her standpoint; and she ran.

The townsfolk were sent into the woods to find her the next day Chilling screams would be faintly heard, but no one admitted they could hear them; if they were real at all. On a tree, he thought, out of the corner of his eye, was a red cloth.  The lot ran over only to find an embroidered red hood with a single button. It was cold and delicate. The old celtic knotted design revealed the symbol of the neighbouring kingdom. Only one woman from that town owned such a button. No one knew her name for she never left the castle. She was told to the children as the one who should have listened. A bed time story that could keep children safe.

No one found the house. Though one little boy smelled the fresh baking of bread and wandered off. He said he saw a young woman, dancing along the river beside a small house that disappeared as soon as he blinked. He could still hear the laughter and beautiful voice of the woman, singing songs of her freedom.

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