The Melancholy Tales of the Pearl-Tears

“Rat! Your witchery will not be tolerated in this village!” The man cried, pointing an accusing finger at the blind girl. Annabel-Leigh flinched, she was tied to a wooden post, facing the muttering crowd of spectators. A low whisper fell throughout the audience.

With an evil smile, the man continued “You are blind, yet you can see without assistance. That is impractical.”

“Sir, I am not blind.” Annabel-Leigh answered quietly, her eyes downcast.

“She lies!” He yelled instantly; a disbelieving laugh erupted from him. He turned away from her and bellowed, “I’d like to make a proposition with the fine locals of the here-and-now.
This low-life peasant should be taken to the High Court, where they can finally dispose of it once and for all.”

Cries of agreement erupted from the crowd; everyone laughed and shook hands, the evil man smiled.

“Then tomorrow we will send her, but for tonight she may stay here, humiliation as her parting gift from us.” He looked towards her, he hated this girl, and he hated her with all of his being.

Once everyone had left, Annabel-Leigh began to weep. Her hands were raw and her legs were beginning to tire out. A small noise caught her attention. She looked frantically around for it, the feathered-hair boy, Beau, had given her a feather, whose fine dust helped her to see. But everything was black and white; color had been drained from her vision, and her eyes had the clouded look, still. Was it Beau now to rescue her? No, a small girl had appeared from the bushes, a small sheepskin bag in her grasp. Hesitantly, the girl edged closer to Annabel-Leigh, her hands shaking slightly.

When she was at a distance she presumed safe, she threw the bag at Annabel-Leigh’s feet. Annabel-Leigh looked up at her, “Thank you.” She said, genuine gratefulness in her voice.

The girl hesitated, she was ready to flee, but she stayed. She looked at Annabel-Leigh’s hands; they were burned at the wrists from the rope that was tying her back.

“My mama says you are not a witch.” The girl stated. She got closer to Annabel-Leigh. “But papa says you are.”

The girl opened the sheepskin bag, inside there was bread, dried fruit and a small jar of honey. “I don’t think you are a witch.” She finished. Annabel-Leigh smiled, “I appreciate your kindness, little one.” The girl looked up at her, still not smiling. “Mama said to help you. I was scared, but I wanted to do it.”

“My name is Annabel-Leigh.”

“My name is Josephine.”

And so, Annabel-Leigh lived with Josephine and her mother, hidden away from Josephine’s father. Annabel-Leigh insisted on eating scraps, instead of meals, much to the mother’s objections. Josephine’s father was the man who accused her of being a witch, a liar, and was going to send her off to the High Court. After Annabel-Leigh’s mysterious disappearance he covered up his error and lied to the village people, saying he had, in fact, sent her off. Annabel-Leigh took special caution to stay away from him, like leaving the property whenever he was home or not eating any of the scraps for fear he might suspect why they weren’t being thrown to the farmer’s pigs. He became a violent drunk, coming home just to harass his family and then leave again for long periods of time. He always left his wife broken and used, his daughter never to be found when he came home like that.

“I want to be saved by a prince, someday.” Josephine sighed, on one of these unfortunate days.

“A prince…” Annabel-Leigh trailed off, someone’s certain low growl echoed throughout her mind.

“Yes. A kind prince, one who will let me play in the fields or in his castle and give me flowers and let you and mama live with us. And we would never have to worry about being hungry or hiding from papa because papa will stay here.” She scrunched up her nose. “Annabel-Leigh, please, never leave me and Mama.”

“Never.” Annabel-Leigh replied.

The next day the father had seen the blind witch in the bushes nearing his house. He took her to where a few chosen farmers lived, their plagued cattle crying loudly due to disease and famine; the crops were dried and brown. He was careful to not let anyone see her. When they arrived, they pushed the girl around with rough hands. The man, who had flawed his plan in the beginning, came up with another idea; if they took her up to the demonic presence in the caves he would eat her and stop bringing bad luck to the village. The men cheered, quickly huddling close, planning for the trip; the girl forgotten. “A prince,” Annabel-Leigh whispered silently to herself.

Annabel-Leigh saw little brown eyes staring at her from the bushes, small feet protruded from the leaves. It rustled. Annabel-Leigh shook her head, a sad smile gracing her lips.

“Good-bye, Josephine.” She mouthed.

The bush cried silently.