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Home –› Entertainment –› Story Reading
 

The Rape of Angelina [Chapter Eight: Chalice Well]

 

Author: Dennis Siluk

I knew the third man, the tall one, would be looking for his friends pretty soon, although it seemed to me he really liked his ale more than his friends; for as I walked by the Inn, he was always sitting there or standing drinking like a fish. I have never quite understood this all drinking people do, it seems quite a waste of resources, and energy. For the men never get up to feed the animals, or plant, or for that matter, do much of anything. Grandpa said he used to drink a glass of wine just before bed, and it helped him sleep, but his brother was a drunk, and that scared him because he was always in poverty.

I stayed at grandpa's house again, and decided to remain there for the week. Grandpa got two horses now, and mom was ok with it. There were chores around the house but I had three brothers and two sisters who could help. And grandpa was alone a lot, so mom felt grandpa could use the company, and he and I were very close; closer than mom was to her dad I think. His father had fallen off a roof a number of years ago, died from a broken spine, not sure why I'm putting this in my diary, but I don't quite miss him, because I only seen him I guess when I was a baby, but I didn't want grandpa to fall off a roof, and neither did mom, so she let me stay with grandpa almost as much as I wanted, you know kind of watch him. I got to go now.

AG

It's the next day, I got to find and set it up for the thin guy. I got nine-pieces of silver; I will buy some more wine, and use the sleeping potion, the whole thing on him I think. I got a plan. But first I want to go to the market and buy some... of that expensive drug for grandpa called coffee. It comes from a country called Ethiopia. They've been using it for 200 years I guess. It helps him stay awake at night. Grandpa told me that the Angel Gabriel revealed the secrets of roasting and brewing this compound. I've tasted it. It isn't half bad. But grandpa can't afford it, so I will buy some with my silver.

Later in the Day

And so I did get some coffee and gave it to grandpa, and I stopped by the Inn where the tall man was. He was too drunk to even think anything was going on. He is going to meet me tonight at Chalice Well. He saw me buy a bottle of wine, like I did for his friend, and no one has heard of what happened to the huge one yet. That is, what is left of him; for he had no cloths on, and all that must be left is bone. I took his cloths with his horse and buried the cloths this morning. I do not think anyone will discover him missing for a few days, so there is nothing suspicious as of yet. I told the tall guy his friend gave me silver to buy wine and to lay with him in bed. And I added, I was going back to meet him in an hour. But he was going to meet me by the well at sunset. The well is said to be the entrance to the underworld; he may find out. I don't know if there is any truth to it, but I know that it connects to the underground water system of the Tor, and a few other springs nearby.

Evening at Chalice Well

I had got to Chalice Well, before the tall soldier arrived, and set everything in place. I loved this location, as I did the Abbey in the village, and Magog, and the Tor. This was the ideal place. It is nestled in a valley between Chalice Hill and the Tor, and there are gardens all about. I put a blanket on the soft grass, and the bottle of wine by the side of the well. The top of the well was made out of wood and steel, and the top of it shut, and could be locked when not in use, so no kids would fall into it. The well is on top of the garden. I liked this spot, I could see all about. Sometimes the village folk put on plays here, and had festivals here. The source of the water is unknown, but grandpa always said it came from the Mendip Hills some miles to the north of our Glastonbury. Before my time, the Celts and Druids were in this area. The spirits of the trees whisper to me that they settled in that area, perhaps because they are Druid spirits, or Celtic spirits themselves.

I loved drinking the pure water from Chalice Well, it was always cool, and it has never failed to be so, not in all my fourteen years in this area; yes, I am fourteen years old now. Not a kid anymore.

I hear a horse [Angelina's Thoughts: --He is a drunk, he loves his booze, and he will come for that first. You have done well Angelina, you are now using the dark, surprise and ambush to your advantage, and tomorrow you will be free. --I don't know really who you are, but I think you scare me more than the knights. Will you be gone tomorrow also? -Yes], it is the tall man. He can see me from the lower part of the garden. I am waving at him now. Here he comes.

"Hello you...little... you little slut," he grabbed me by the hair, the wine is right next to me, and he threw me to the ground, not even on my pretty blanket.

"Ok, you want it, you're going to get it," he's been drinking all day I think.

"Please sir, I bought this wine just for you."

He grabbed the wine, and started drinking it with one hand as he ripped his cloths off with the other. He had a huge erection.

"Take it off, now winch, or I'll put the sword to you."

I quickly took my dress off, I was just hoping, and hoping, he would drink more of the wine. But he put it down. He only had three drinks. He's on top of me again, I hate this. My head is hitting the ground like a horse's head stomping. He will not stop. I can't breath.

"I need a drink sir. Let me play with you..."

He stopped, and took another drink.

"Ok, play with it..."

I had to touch it, but the more I played with it, the more he drank. He started to get soft, his head started to sway. I did put four times as much sleeping potion in it than I did for the huge guy. He fell to his side, the bottle still tight in his hand. Gee! I thought, of all things, he hangs on to the bottle, and not on to his pants.

I tried to catch my breath, I was gasping for air.

"Wake up, wake up sir. Drink more wine," I said, --then I started to slap his face lightly to see if he would wake up, but he was fast asleep.

I got up on my feet, wiped myself dry from his sweat, and other liquids that came from his body, mouth and nose --and that item between his legs. I never thought such things could go so deep inside a woman. But then I am only fourteen, I was not suppose to find this out until I got married, which he robbed me of, or tried to---.

I got my small portion of the rope I bought, and cut, and tied his hands over his head; then tied his two legs together. He was naked, and what I wanted to do was cut that item off, but I couldn't. I opened up the iron and wood cover to the well, and centered him. Then I went to the other side of the well where his feet were -- my longer piece of rope extended across the well at this point, inasmuch as, I now would be able to pull him to the well and he'd fall down head first, --but first things first.

I walked around to the other side again, picked up his sword, and I knew now I had to do this fast, for once the sword hit, he would wake up, and I had to run around to the other side of the circular cover of the well and pull the rope. I hoped I had strength enough. Now I got the sword over my head. I am looking at his hands tied. I am focused, I can't miss, oh please, I just can't miss. The sword is coming down just like when I had it in the air with the young man, and it went right through his wrists his hands fell off, his eyes opened up, as did his mouth, I jumped over to the rope, falling on my knees, and started pulling. He is looking at me pulling him. His head is two feet from the well, his shoulders are touching the open space of the well, and I do not think he knows exactly what is going on, except his life is in danger.

"What you doing, What, WWWWWat YYYYYYou Dodododo oooo ing...!! He is crying.

I jerk the rope with all my strength, he is starting to kick, but his butt is in the open space of the well; now he knows I think,--that is, what is happening to him. I jerk the rope again; his head is pulled over to the edge of the well. One more inch, just one more, he is trying to push himself backwards to safety; he knows he is going to sink and if so down into the well. His arms are free of the ropes now, but they can't hold on to the sides of the well he is discovering he has no hands. His head just dropped into the open space of the well, now his back is sliding down in the open black space of the well, he is falling, his whole body, and the rope is burning my hands, I must let go...I do.

Silence...................................................... Splashhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

As I look down the well, the rope followed him like a snake. He has no hands to untie his feet, and he can not climb the 30-feet to the top. And I know the well is pretty deep. I can not see him, only hear his cries.

Now I put the top of the well cover back on; I will lock it now, so the children will not fall into it. I can still hear his screams, barely, but I do hear them, he is begging me to open the well door, and at the same time cursing me. He is not sorry for what he did to me, only sorry I could get revenge on him; now his body will sink soon, and he will sober up, or wake up drunk in hell.

I hear water splashing, he is lucky he is thin, not like the huge one, for he would sink if he was that big. He will get exhausted soon. I must bury the rest of his things.

"See Mr. Knight, you are paying for your sins. But I will tell the world you were a great knight, for that is what knights are created for; they are special. Thus, I will save you from disgrace. What would you do if you lived, just get drunk and rape more girls like me. Now, that is not what a good knight should have to look forward to. GOOD NIGHT!!" I think he heard me, I tried to say it loud enough through the locked well cover. Matter of fact he did hear me, he is saying "Come back...come backkkkkk, ppppleaseeeeezzzzzzz."

As I walked out of the garden, I found his horse, I took it and gave it to grandpa, and he also had silver in a pouch, five pieces. I now had 12-pieces of silver. I will give them to my mother, and let her know that these men gave them to me. For that is what brave heroes of a war do. They help people, they like to be heroes.

End of the Diary

Author Bio:

Dennis Siluk

Writing is more than a hobby for me. It's a passion, one of the ways I capture and celebrate life.

You can also reach this article by using: digital storytelling, online story reading, digital story telling, the art of storytelling
 
 
 

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