In a truly spectacular failure of the week, I wrote this last Sunday and never posted it. I would just not post it at all, but I am writing part 4, the conclusion to this for this weeks challenge, and you are going to be a little confused if you didn’t read part 3. Oops.
She knew that she had been lucky to be found by Delores, who took her in, fostered her, and took her to her many medical appointments for her “head injury”.
She knew not to speak of the fair folk, and without an explanation of how she came by her dress, or manner of speech, there was no way for her to refute the claim of injury. The adults often spoke in hushed voices of something they called a cult when she didn’t know something she should, like what electricity was, or what a car was, or how to write with the proficiency of a trained scribe.
She didn’t like this strange new world, where everything moved so fast, yet so slow at the same time, and where she was expected to have the confidence of an elder, while not being trusted to so much as feed herself. She had 14 years to her name, and if it weren’t for her father’s passing, she would have been wed with a babe of her own by now, but when she told that to Delores it only made the woman look sad, then treat her more like a child.
She was given pills to make her happy, but the only made it all fuzzy, as she mourned a life long gone, a family long dead, and the feeling of belonging she had once had.