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Shegokigo said:

Mabel.... How time makes one forget.

It was Spring, a time when one attempts to leave behind their pasts, look forward to fresh starts and new beginnings or in my case, leaving no trace from the Winter's misdeeds. The snow on the ground had barely given way to greener grounds, though walking a few steps still gave way to a satsifying slushing sound every now and again. I was making my way down the rusted and barely kept together tracks, having recently leaped from a railcar that had been my home and escape for the past 4 months off and on. It had been a few days down this mostly open land, barren of most trees or flora, when I came across the Ranch. Though it was less of a Ranch and more of just a cottage with a large backyard, it surprisingly still had it's miscellaneous food bearing animals and plant life.

Not wanting to draw too much attention to myself in this new area, I thought to make a quick snatch of a chicken and possibly a couple of ripe fruit before making my way down the stretch of rail tracks again. My stomach quickly reminding me that I hadn't had a full course meal in a long while. Having had made my way from homestead to homestead over the past few months I had taken what food was left over from my ransacking of each home. The occupants were either not home at the time, or I had to incapacitate them to avoid being later described in detail. A few dried goods did not exactly make for a full meal.

I decided I'd check the home first and see if there might perhaps be an occupant or two I could threaten for a meal and made my way toward the quaint home. Simple in design, yet obviously full of detail and care, the home was breathtaking. Paint that seemed to flow seemlessly from corner to corner, windows so clear you could swear you could put your arm through the frame, and not a speckle of mud to be seen on anyplace mud didn't belong. It was a sight the likes I'd never seen before. A sight so strange and wonderous, I was caught completely off guard by her voice.

"Well child, are you gonna stand there like a wide-eyed doe or can you speak?". I hadn't even noticed the elderly woman at the door the entire time. How could I have been so taken by the atmosphere of this place that I had forsaken all the years of learned training of self-preservation and protection? "You do have a tongue, don't ya girl?" She sounded gruff, yet playfully sincere. Quick to regain my thoughts and composure I slyly replied "Just wondering what you're doing out here all by yourself?" "Oh, I'm never alone." she smiled while nodding toward the few livestock in the backround behind me. "Alone, hm?" thinking to myself that this was the opportunity I was seeking.

She smiled again, there was something in it that made me uncomfortable. Not because there was something malicious behind it. Malicious I could handle. No, it was something I had never seen before, felt like something I'd never felt before, and it made me feel off balance. She was a bit older than I had previously noticed, possibly in her late 60s to mid 70s. She had me follow her toward the kitchen, a room that seemed to have a life of it's own. Plants were hung from different parts of the area, cabinets were intricately crafted (obviously hand-made), the sink had seen many years of use yet still shined an almost blinding silver, the table itself sat around 5 but the elegant tablecloth seemed like it belonged on one fit for 50.

Taking in the entirety of the room I barely took notice as she flowed from cabinet to cabinet, grabbing boxes and ingredients in such a fluid motion it seemed almost rehearsed, as if this were the big show she had been preparing for a long time. It wasn't until she removed some of the cookware with a clang that I turned again to face her. She herself was remarkable to look at. Though there was nothing particular about her outfit it seemed almost surreal. A plain dress, also obviously hand-crafted, with flowers and small vines stretching over the enirety of it, her hair was long but kept up in a bun, silver strands found their way out though and draped on her shoulder. It was obvious she didn't need to keep up appearances for anyone, yet she took care of herself it was clear.

Finally done with her collecting and smiling she began mixing her ingredients with a skip in her step. "Don't get much company coming through here?" trying to get a grasp on how alone she was exactly. "Oh not much these days. My boys come to visit in the Summertime though." tossing together something from a dried good box she continue mixing. "Don't live around here do they?" I was reaching for a bit more information. "Oh no, they moved out to the city years ago! Families of their own and what not" Hm, no family nearby then. All that leaves is her husb.. "Why don't you go wash up now dear? Lunch will be a few minutes yet" she didn't even turn to speak. Standing up I simply asked where I might find the washroom and made my way through the house. She was so trusting....

The hallway, while not exactly long, spanned many years worth of photos all along it's sides. They were almost chronologic in their order. The first few were obviously taken on earlier type of photographic paper as they had turned a slight tinge of brown but still easy to make out. Turning to my right, I saw the first photo of a young man in uniform and a young shapely woman in an amazing black dress. They were photographed together during a romantic meal in a nice restaurant. "This must be Mister Not Home yet" I though to myself as I began taking my time inspecting the photos as I walked along the hallway. Photos of the woman in a hospital bed with a newborn in her arms, the same man at her side, followed by 3 more of nearly the same. Four boys in total. One of the photos had tilted slightly and I reached out to straight it out, my obvious compulsion for perfection it seems was still intact. As I straightend it out, I noticed there was a indention in the dust behind it. "It'd been left like this for years?" the realization was interesting to me, perhaps one of the children had tilted it during a visit and she left it that way as a memory of them? Without thinking, I moved the photo back exactly as it had been before. A strange act not common of me, such silly reverence for something I cared nothing about and yet... the thought boggled me as I continued walking and looking at the photos.

Though there were many photos of her children and her husband, a large portion of them were all of different people. Young, old, different race and gender. In each photograph, she was being embraced by the other person, not just one of those "pose for the camera" embraces, but the kind that shows an eternal gratitude for life. Who were they? Why was she in them with these people? Why are these photos framed in her hallway? It didn't make much sense to me at the time, but she had affected many lives it seemed. In each one she aged a bit more, yet still retained her smile and presence. It just "had" something to it. I couldn't pinpoint what it was and it bounced around in my thoughts as I entered the washroom.

Walking into the washroom I was greeted by the almost unfamiliar scents of soaps and creames. It'd been so long since I'd had a real bath that didn't consist of a nearby spring or a quick splash of water to the face from a nearby puddle. Leaning over the large sink, I took a closer glance at some of the supplies strewn about, yet seemed to be in some kind of order. Lifting a particularly interesting bottle, I removed the cap and inhaled slightly. Lavender and cinnamon from the smell of it. Most of the bottles were mostly plain in design, purchased from a nearby grocer no doubt. "Hm, how close would the nearest town be I wonder" Placing the bottle back in it's original spot, I was about to grab for a couple handfulls of water when the call came from behind the door.

"Dearie, I've put the food in the oven now so it's going to be around a half hour to hour, why don't you take a nice soak in the tub, I have spare clothes my husband hasn't used in a few years you can have if you care to." as if she had been reading my mind the entire time. Strange.... I hadn't even heard her walking down the hallway. "Must be good floorboards" I dissmissed the thought and looked up into the mirror. Had it been so long? Perhaps I would take her up on the offer, when would be my next chance? Staring into the mirror I took another look at what recent events had left upon my visage.

My face was dirtied that my abnormally pale skin almost had a tone of brown. Removing my dark green and black fedrora, my hair was frayed and split at the ends, held in a weak tie-up by almost rusted pins. Carefully removing the pins with my nails, I allowed my hair to fall to it's length, halfway down my back. Placing my fedora down while looking at my half-ragged clothing it was no wonder she had offered a fresh set, and the fact that she offered me men's clothes was no surprise either if one took more than a few seconds glance at my current wear.

Trousers once possibly blackin original color, were now a faded ash grey at best, there was no belt loop left to speak of though it orginally had one, and they were badly frayed at the cuffs on the end. The long sleeve black button shirt I was wearing fared no better, also faded, missing buttons, and long since had the sleeves ripped to shorter lengths. The uneven lengths would give one the assumption that they had been ripped off in a brawl more likely than for comfort, which of course would be correct reason as to the shirt's condition. Matter of fact most of my possessions and clothing at the time would tell a more clear tale as to where I'd been and what I'd done while I was there than I would ever admit with my own words, most especially the dried splatters of blood on some of the darker part of my clothing, the smaller spots caked in my hair... and especially on the serrated long knife I had tucked deep into my boots....

Opening the door slightly and looking down the hallway it was clear that my host had returned to the kitchen, I found the clothing she had spoken of placed neatly on a chair beside the door. Taking them in my arms, I began to close the door when the smell first hit me. It was so succulent and mouth watering, my knees nearly buckled beneath me. Whether it was the fact I hadn't smelled anything that had been cooked beyond a small fire in a thicket of trees or that it was just that amazing didn't matter, I was nearly floored and my stomach let out an audible growl. Nearly forgetting about the bath that awaited me I snapped back to attention when the clothes in my arms felll to the ground. Shaking off the daze I had been in, I picked them back up and shut the door. Placing them down again over the sink I began running the water into the large tub. It was rare to see any households with a running water sink, much less a tub, but as with most of this house, it seemed like much care went into it's details and comforts of living.

As the steam began to rise, I removed my clothing and allowed it to slump the floor. My pale body was not far different than the clothing that had recently covered it. Scarred, smeared, and mostly covered with bruises of different ages and color, I allowed it all to slowly make its way into the almost scalding hot water. The first shock of pain was almost immediately replaced by the muscles all over my body relaxing their tense pulling. I felt like I was melting away. My bruises ached and felt like they were soothing at the same time, the dirt and grime that had so deeply imbedded itself on my skin and nails began to crack and release it's hold on me, the water even took on a slight pinkish hue after a few minutes, from the blood that was being brought back to life after weeks and months of being dry.

If I had trouble remembering when my last bath was, it was even more difficult to remember a time I felt so at ease. Closing my eyes I allowed myself to soak, close my eyes, breathe in the steam around me and slowly drift off with my thoughts of the past few years. I had traveled from Chicago to my current situation in what I thought was possibly the New York area...

A knock at the door startled me, nearly to the point of leaping up out of the tub, though my body was so limp and relaxed I barely managed a startled shiver. "Dear, you've been in there an hour, meal's just about ready." I had fallen asleep. I had fallen asleep in a strange home, with a stranger awake and moving about, and about 5 feet from my knife. I had no idea what was going on but I knew it needed to stop. I gave myself a few last scrubbings with the now lukewarm water and a nearby sponge to get the last remnants of dirt left on my body. Pulling the stopper out of the bottom of the bathtub by the chain, it drained slowly but efficiently. Watching the drain only for a moment and pulling myself together, I kept repeating in my head what I was here for and what I needed to do and move on.

Grabbing the new clothes, I quickly buttoned the new shirt and pants, gave my boots a quick wash in the now empty tub and tugged them on. This time however, I secured my blade to my waistline on my back before I reached for my fedora, and with a filp it was back on my head. Though my hair was still a bit wet, I simply pushed it with a twirl up into my hat and made my way out the door and down the hallway, with a new determination and less distraction.

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