Midnight's Song Read Online Free Page A

it was about my choice. No one dared utter a single word
until the entire room was certain that my door was shut and I was
absent from the conversation. It was a bit redundant considering
that I could still hear their conversation as if it was coming from
within my room itself.
    “Thank you Gaerwyn.”
Grandmamma began. “We have come to discuss Elissa’s future in
society. Now that Rose is gone…it seems that there would be
financial difficulty on your part. I understand that in the
10 th caste it takes two or three working individuals to produce a
sufficient income. With Rose gone and Elissa unfit to work, there
is bound to be difficulty.”
    “I needn’t be informed of things I’d
already be aware!”
    “Of course, Gaerwyn. I’m
sure you’re well aware of every consequence of the death. Knowing
of your daughter’s ‘special,’ status…I only wanted to express to
you that in lieu of Rose’s death our family would be willing to
take Elissa into our home. We want to be of aid to you in any way
that we can.”
    There was silence. Although the offer
had been made with honest intentions, the very mention of it caused
Papa the fieriest kind of seething. He refused to look at them for
a few moments, transforming into the most animistic kind of beast
that there could have been. In the silence, I cracked open my door
to look at what might have been conspiring on the other side. What
I saw and heard next wounded and scared me as deeply as a jagged
razor blade.
    “Get out,” he
abruptly grunted through his teeth. “Elissa’s my daughter. We’ll not be in need of
any help on your part. I’ll do just fine providing for her with my
own wages! This is her choice – so you’d better not dare try to
sabotage it!” His tone soon became that of a true beast. “Get out
of my house, or you’re dead .”
    Before he had even
finished the last word of his sentence, the
12 th caste boy hurried Grandmamma out the back door. Aunt Wren
followed closely behind. I emerged from my room in horror. Although
the women were gone, my father was not finished. He picked up a
large, heavy pole and ran out the front door just as the ladies had
finished getting into their carriage. Their driver quickly took the
reins and whipped his horses into drive.
    “Stay out of our
business, you pretentious snakes!” Papa shouted at the carriage in
a beastly rage, falling onto his knees on the ground as it
disappeared from sight. “Elissa is mine. As long as I’ve got reason to
live, you can’t take her from me!”

5 | The
Hard Season

    The hardest times were
still yet to come. My father sunk into a depression that
intoxicated him more than the most potent liquor. Papa soon
returned to the boats, and the small lifeline we had of food from
our neighbors stopped its flow. Food was scarce for everyone. Even
when they made a good catch, Papa wasn’t allowed to take home any
more than his ration. The ration was nearly as small as his wages –
hardly enough to feed one person, let alone two.
    In a few weeks the cupboard was
completely bare.
    That summer
contained the worst drought that our country had experienced in
years. The sandy beaches and cobblestone roads of the Katie Isles
became scorched and sizzling just as did every other part of the
country. In the South, the 8 th caste farmers couldn’t
produce their crops. In the North, the 5 th caste technicians worked
tirelessly to keep the dams from running dry.
    Our fearless Magistrate
did nothing to help. It was only when June’s rays charred his
family’s prized orchards and shrivel his blood oranges that he even
acknowledged the crisis. When he did acknowledge it, the only
conclusion he could come up with for this tragedy was an offense
which I’d never seen or heard of in these parts:
    Witchcraft.
    The Magistrate insisted
that the people become more pious – implying that this drought must
have been a punishment for crimes against God. While the witch-hunt
began, my people starved. We