Vesna McMaster - Loaf

Two days until my wedding. I cannot move from this house. The locks are bigger than my head, the windows high out of reach, so high they look out above the winter sky which crawls along the ground outside. Snowflakes fall in the room and they do not melt on my hand when I catch them.

When the light fades the locks churn and turn, the door opens, the shadows gather into the form that is the Beast. My heart is frozen, else I would dissolve in fear.

One day before my wedding. There was a commotion outside, I heard many voices, they called my name, called on the Beast to release me. He paid them no heed. Why should he? I am his payment.

The day of my wedding. It is early and the freeze has spread outwards from my heart, my throat is tight. If only it hurries a little I may be all numb. The locks churn and shudder.

The shadows do not coalesce. Instead of the Beast’s heavy, silent paws, a light tap-tap-tap. A human form! The shock shatters the freeze and my heart is pounding. Not only human, but Gwen!

I run forward. Then stop. The shadow is behind her. She smiles.

‘Meg, darling. I have a little gift for you, for your wedding. It’s good luck, you know.’

She holds out a loaf of bread. Her eyes are saying something I do not quite understand but she is determined that I shall. She holds the loaf in an odd way. Level, portentous.

‘It’s good luck if you can eat it all. But you must do so alone.’

I laugh as I take the loaf. ‘I am always alone – during the day.’ My eyes are not frozen any more. They are very hot.

She gives me the loaf. It is strangely heavy. She leans in. ‘Don’t bite straight into it, all right? Tear carefully.’ Her whisper is warm in my ear, and smells of fennel seed. She draws back. ‘We all wish you well in your marriage,’ she says out loud. Then she lowers her gaze, spins round, and tap-tap-taps quickly back outside, past the shadows, and the door heaves to again behind the churning locks.

Alone. The loaf is warm in my hands. My hands start to shake. I tear off a corner, and try to eat some but my mouth has forgotten how eating works. Oh Gwen, there may be no good luck for me.

Something shines inside the bread. I blink the water from my vision. I tear off a little more. The glint inside increases. Bread pieces fall on the grey floor tiles.

It is a knife. A steel knife.  Barely the size of my hand, almost all blade. The last pieces of loaf fall around my feet. I run to the near-black oak trestle and drop the blade onto it, and the tip is so sharp that it sinks into the wood and stands upright, unaided.

I look up at the high window. The shadows cannot come fast enough.