Chapter 4: Thursday's Child has far to go,
What Wednesday had told John was true. She never re-read what she wrote or drew in her journals. Not that she would recognise the symbols, sigils and hieroglyphs as language. Nor would she understand how she could manage to write in other languages when she knew only English.
Had she done so, in all likelihood, she would have pushed the stranger who washed up on her bank back into the water and held him under just to be sure he drowned.
She didn’t see the man until she was almost on top of him. He lay on his side, half in and half out of the water. He was cold to touch and she thought him dead. She knelt to feel a weak pulse and faint breath against the palm of her hand. Wen knelt beside the man for about five minutes before she dragged him towards the bathroom. Manoeuvring him into the bathroom, she started running the bath, stripped off his clothing and manhandled him into the warm water. Turning the water off, she refilled the copper with water and stoked the fire, then went to make a cup of tea.
Wen kept his bath warm and drank her tea while she waited for him to wake up. He had dark hair and his skin was pale with what looked like acne scarring on his face and scars across his stomach. When he opened his eyes they were blue. Wen looked at him. He looked at her. He dropped his gaze first. After opening and closing his mouth and then coughing, he asked where his clothes were.
Wen told him they were drying up at the cabin. Then she told him that he could come up to the cabin when he’d dried himself and let the bathwater out. That there was a blanket to keep him warm since she didn’t have any ‘man clothes’. Then she left the stranger to his own devices and went back to the cabin. He came up ten minutes later, wrapped in the blanket and looking lost.
“I’m making stew. Do you want some?” Wen asked the man. He nodded and then he made his way over to the dilapidated sofa and sat down. His clothes were hanging over a chair placed in front of the fire.
“You live here alone?” he asked after some time passed. Wen nodded as she put the vegetables in the pot.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because it suits me,” Wen answered sitting beside him and meeting his gaze.
“What were you doing in the lake?” She asked.
“I don’t know. I remember pain, loud voices, an awful scratching and screeching violins, then just silence. Then I woke up in your bath.” He said. There was sorrow and grief in his voice.
“You know your name?” she asked.
“No. Do you know my name?” he asked.
“No. My name is Wednesday. People call me Wen.”
After a minute of silence, he said “I like Thursday, Thor’s day. Maybe I was born on a Thursday?”
“Fine, you can be Thor, after Thursday, until we learn your real name. That suits you?” Wen asked returning to the cooking stew.
“Thor is fine by me.” He said.
“Good. We’ll eat. I’ll bathe and then if you’re still here when I come up again we’ll sleep. You can take the sofa. I’ve had a very tiring day.” Wen declared.
The stew smelt good. She found some plates, knives and forks and placed them and the stew on the table. She helped herself to food and indicated he should do the same. He did. They sat in silence eating. He liked the stew, it was pretty basic and could use more salt. “Why do I know that?” Thor thought to himself.
Thor looked around the cabin while Wen bathed. There were a pile of books by her bed and he picked them up. They were mostly pulp fiction, a series by the look of the cover art, he picked up one “Supernatural: Heart by Carver Edlund”. There was a well-read bible amongst the books and an open steel chest against the wall. Inside were what looked like journals, drawings and various writing material. On the table were a couple of magazines and catalogues. Thor wondered if they belonged to the John W whose name was carved above the door.
He felt his clothes, they were more or less dry so he put them back on and sat down on the seat facing the fire. As fires do, the flames started to form patterns that resembled places and people, there was a familiarity about them and he briefly wondered if they were his memories. If that was the case he didn’t want to remember, they all seemed quite violent.
Thor wondered if Wen was safe with him. He wondered whether he was safe with her. Was he safe with himself? Wen returned from bathing and made coffee for them both. Thor picked up the book he’d thumbed through earlier. He joined Wen at the table where she was reading a magazine, neither spoke and the silence was comfortable.
“Why do you like these books? The main characters seem to be criminals and very violent.” He asked her.
“They are the only things I remember being read to me when I was in hospital.” Wen said still reading the magazine.
“Why were you in hospital?” Thor asked.
“There was an accident. I can’t remember much about it. I was in a coma for a while and my cousin Ariel used to read to me. At least, that’s what she told me,” Wen said and smiled a little, “Sometimes I felt like I was actually in the stories. Besides, the brothers are sexy.”
“The brothers are sexy? Strange books” Thor looked back down at the book.
“I have to go to work tomorrow. If you want, you can come. You could meet Ariel, actually you probably won’t. She comes and goes as she pleases.” Wen said drifting off a little before finishing, “If you don’t, you could move some of the stones from behind the cabin. I want to make garden.”
“What kind of garden?” Thor asked only half listening because he’d started reading the book in his hands.
“I don’t know, it hasn’t told me yet.” Wen replied moving to her bed and picking up the bible to read.
Thor found the book compelling, despite the fact it was abysmally written. The brothers Dean and Sam Winchester seemed to be hunting a werewolf who turned out to be a girl Sam liked. Sam had to kill her in the end. He finished the book. He turned to ask Wen something but found she’d gone to sleep. He got up and picked up the bedding she’d left by the sofa. Making himself comfortable, he turned down the kerosene lantern and turned in for the night.
The sound of the dying fire and night calls from the forest animals lulled him to sleep. This place was safe for him. He didn’t know why he needed a safe haven, but in this quirky hut and this strange girl there was safety. He even liked the name Thor.
***
Wen and Thor settled into a routine of sorts. Wen came to light with some more ‘man clothes’ and while she worked at the garage and Thor turned the surrounding forest chaos into a walled garden. They discovered each was fairly solitary and not much for idle chatter. Unless they were working together in the garden or Thor was helping Wen at the garage, they didn’t really speak to one another. Both enjoyed swimming. The water soothed them both, particularly if they’d slept badly.
Sometimes, they’d ask each other about their past. Sometimes, they even answered each other’s questions. Wen said she thought her parents had died in the accident that put her in hospital and that sometimes she wondered whether Ariel really was her cousin or a figment of her imagination.
Thor said he thought he might have been in the army. He could remember fighting and people talking about him being a ‘good little soldier’. Another time, he said he thought he might have been a preacher because he had vague memories of instructing people in the ways of the Lord.
In the evenings after dinner, they’d read until Wen fell asleep. Thor would pull the covers over her and then bunk down on the sofa. He’d taken to reading her Supernatural books. The more he read them the greater the sense of déjà vu. It was as if, for him, they were more fact than fiction.
Sometimes, Wen would wake screaming and Thor would sit with her the rest of the night. Reading the Supernatural books as she wrote or drew whatever nightmare she’d dreamt in her journal.
Sometimes, it was Thor who woke screaming. The first time this happened, he couldn’t remember the dream but didn’t want to go back to sleep. His screaming had woken Wen. As neither could sleep she had made a pot of tea and they sat quietly listening to the sounds of the forest at night until dawn.
His dreams and nightmares became more intense and more frequently until the evening after agents Smith and Anderson visited the cabin. Once the soup was eaten and the dishes done, he and Wen had settled into their evening reading routine. That night Thor’s dreams were so vivid he knew they must be memories. They made no sense until Wednesday offered him her journals to read. He should never have read them.
part 2
Had she done so, in all likelihood, she would have pushed the stranger who washed up on her bank back into the water and held him under just to be sure he drowned.
She didn’t see the man until she was almost on top of him. He lay on his side, half in and half out of the water. He was cold to touch and she thought him dead. She knelt to feel a weak pulse and faint breath against the palm of her hand. Wen knelt beside the man for about five minutes before she dragged him towards the bathroom. Manoeuvring him into the bathroom, she started running the bath, stripped off his clothing and manhandled him into the warm water. Turning the water off, she refilled the copper with water and stoked the fire, then went to make a cup of tea.
Wen kept his bath warm and drank her tea while she waited for him to wake up. He had dark hair and his skin was pale with what looked like acne scarring on his face and scars across his stomach. When he opened his eyes they were blue. Wen looked at him. He looked at her. He dropped his gaze first. After opening and closing his mouth and then coughing, he asked where his clothes were.
Wen told him they were drying up at the cabin. Then she told him that he could come up to the cabin when he’d dried himself and let the bathwater out. That there was a blanket to keep him warm since she didn’t have any ‘man clothes’. Then she left the stranger to his own devices and went back to the cabin. He came up ten minutes later, wrapped in the blanket and looking lost.
“I’m making stew. Do you want some?” Wen asked the man. He nodded and then he made his way over to the dilapidated sofa and sat down. His clothes were hanging over a chair placed in front of the fire.
“You live here alone?” he asked after some time passed. Wen nodded as she put the vegetables in the pot.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because it suits me,” Wen answered sitting beside him and meeting his gaze.
“What were you doing in the lake?” She asked.
“I don’t know. I remember pain, loud voices, an awful scratching and screeching violins, then just silence. Then I woke up in your bath.” He said. There was sorrow and grief in his voice.
“You know your name?” she asked.
“No. Do you know my name?” he asked.
“No. My name is Wednesday. People call me Wen.”
After a minute of silence, he said “I like Thursday, Thor’s day. Maybe I was born on a Thursday?”
“Fine, you can be Thor, after Thursday, until we learn your real name. That suits you?” Wen asked returning to the cooking stew.
“Thor is fine by me.” He said.
“Good. We’ll eat. I’ll bathe and then if you’re still here when I come up again we’ll sleep. You can take the sofa. I’ve had a very tiring day.” Wen declared.
The stew smelt good. She found some plates, knives and forks and placed them and the stew on the table. She helped herself to food and indicated he should do the same. He did. They sat in silence eating. He liked the stew, it was pretty basic and could use more salt. “Why do I know that?” Thor thought to himself.
Thor looked around the cabin while Wen bathed. There were a pile of books by her bed and he picked them up. They were mostly pulp fiction, a series by the look of the cover art, he picked up one “Supernatural: Heart by Carver Edlund”. There was a well-read bible amongst the books and an open steel chest against the wall. Inside were what looked like journals, drawings and various writing material. On the table were a couple of magazines and catalogues. Thor wondered if they belonged to the John W whose name was carved above the door.
He felt his clothes, they were more or less dry so he put them back on and sat down on the seat facing the fire. As fires do, the flames started to form patterns that resembled places and people, there was a familiarity about them and he briefly wondered if they were his memories. If that was the case he didn’t want to remember, they all seemed quite violent.
Thor wondered if Wen was safe with him. He wondered whether he was safe with her. Was he safe with himself? Wen returned from bathing and made coffee for them both. Thor picked up the book he’d thumbed through earlier. He joined Wen at the table where she was reading a magazine, neither spoke and the silence was comfortable.
“Why do you like these books? The main characters seem to be criminals and very violent.” He asked her.
“They are the only things I remember being read to me when I was in hospital.” Wen said still reading the magazine.
“Why were you in hospital?” Thor asked.
“There was an accident. I can’t remember much about it. I was in a coma for a while and my cousin Ariel used to read to me. At least, that’s what she told me,” Wen said and smiled a little, “Sometimes I felt like I was actually in the stories. Besides, the brothers are sexy.”
“The brothers are sexy? Strange books” Thor looked back down at the book.
“I have to go to work tomorrow. If you want, you can come. You could meet Ariel, actually you probably won’t. She comes and goes as she pleases.” Wen said drifting off a little before finishing, “If you don’t, you could move some of the stones from behind the cabin. I want to make garden.”
“What kind of garden?” Thor asked only half listening because he’d started reading the book in his hands.
“I don’t know, it hasn’t told me yet.” Wen replied moving to her bed and picking up the bible to read.
Thor found the book compelling, despite the fact it was abysmally written. The brothers Dean and Sam Winchester seemed to be hunting a werewolf who turned out to be a girl Sam liked. Sam had to kill her in the end. He finished the book. He turned to ask Wen something but found she’d gone to sleep. He got up and picked up the bedding she’d left by the sofa. Making himself comfortable, he turned down the kerosene lantern and turned in for the night.
The sound of the dying fire and night calls from the forest animals lulled him to sleep. This place was safe for him. He didn’t know why he needed a safe haven, but in this quirky hut and this strange girl there was safety. He even liked the name Thor.
***
Wen and Thor settled into a routine of sorts. Wen came to light with some more ‘man clothes’ and while she worked at the garage and Thor turned the surrounding forest chaos into a walled garden. They discovered each was fairly solitary and not much for idle chatter. Unless they were working together in the garden or Thor was helping Wen at the garage, they didn’t really speak to one another. Both enjoyed swimming. The water soothed them both, particularly if they’d slept badly.
Sometimes, they’d ask each other about their past. Sometimes, they even answered each other’s questions. Wen said she thought her parents had died in the accident that put her in hospital and that sometimes she wondered whether Ariel really was her cousin or a figment of her imagination.
Thor said he thought he might have been in the army. He could remember fighting and people talking about him being a ‘good little soldier’. Another time, he said he thought he might have been a preacher because he had vague memories of instructing people in the ways of the Lord.
In the evenings after dinner, they’d read until Wen fell asleep. Thor would pull the covers over her and then bunk down on the sofa. He’d taken to reading her Supernatural books. The more he read them the greater the sense of déjà vu. It was as if, for him, they were more fact than fiction.
Sometimes, Wen would wake screaming and Thor would sit with her the rest of the night. Reading the Supernatural books as she wrote or drew whatever nightmare she’d dreamt in her journal.
Sometimes, it was Thor who woke screaming. The first time this happened, he couldn’t remember the dream but didn’t want to go back to sleep. His screaming had woken Wen. As neither could sleep she had made a pot of tea and they sat quietly listening to the sounds of the forest at night until dawn.
His dreams and nightmares became more intense and more frequently until the evening after agents Smith and Anderson visited the cabin. Once the soup was eaten and the dishes done, he and Wen had settled into their evening reading routine. That night Thor’s dreams were so vivid he knew they must be memories. They made no sense until Wednesday offered him her journals to read. He should never have read them.
part 2