Lisa just knew it was going to be one of those days. Everyone was cranky this morning from lack of sleep. Last night, some of the inn’s local customers insisted on drinking--and talking quite loudly--until after midnight. Another set of customers wanted to leave at the crack of dawn and required that their breakfast be ready long before then. Which meant she had to fetch water from the well in the dark.
“Hurry up you lazy girl!” called Celeste, the innkeeper’s wife. Lisa glanced up from the dirt path to see Celeste’s tall, thin figure standing in the doorway. The figure disappeared, but the door remained open. Lisa walked a little faster, pleased for the bit of extra light spilling from the kitchen door. She couldn’t go much faster, though, without spilling the water. She had already stumbled once on a fallen branch and sloshed some water on her skirt.
Now, with stick woman hovering over her, and her watery, wet skirt weighing her down, Lisa didn’t know where she would find the patience or the strength to make it to bedtime. And if tonight was yet another night with the locals hanging around and drinking until the wee hours . . .
She sighed. Life was simply a bitch, that was all there was to it. One long slog in the dark, one big stumble and fumble, one big . . .
“You, lazy girl, come on!” Celeste called again.
You’d be tired and lazy too, you skinny harpy, Lisa thought, if you’d been bedding down your portly old fart of a husband as often as I have.
Opening: Anonymous.....Continuation: Robin S.