Story Excerpts - The Town of Sobetween

Courtesy of Julia Filirovska from Pexels, Canva

49 TA - Ahlden

Once upon a time, there was a town. The world is full of towns, but this town is hidden away from the rest of the world. I doubt you could find it on a map, though I’m willing to let you try. It’s somewhere between the forest and the sea, somewhere it snows on Christmas day, and the seasons change with a regularity that suits its inhabitants to a tee.

               Have you ever been lost in the woods before? On such a winters day, underneath the tall pines and their snowy white coats, with a river that’s frozen in its motion by the cold of winter’s breath. That’s how you find Sobetween, very few can find it when they’re looking, but you’re following me today.

               I’m following those two strangers, they’re on the road as well. They trudge along in silence, wrapped in their green cloaks, topped with snowy flakes, and forging a path ahead of them with their wooden staffs. They’re dressed in the Greenleaf way, protectors of this land from all things foul, but one’s going home today.

               He’s striding forwards with more confidence than her, he’s walked this path a thousand times. The wildlife that still flourishes in December hold no surprise for him, while she is enchanted by the crystal blue flowers that she had never seen before. The trees are whispering to each other, can you hear their conversations? A small bird flies past, its red breast is a stark contrast with the snow around them. She almost stops walking as she follows its path through the air.

               He’s whistling, she interrupts him, and now they start talking. Let’s hang back a little. Now’s not the time for eavesdropping. Laughter breaks through the silence, as we all continue forwards, step by step on the snow laden path.

               But look, they’re gone! Down some path we cannot see. There’s a path off the road, a sharp bend to the left. Over a bridge I’ll wager you did not see before. The robin descends from it’s flight, it alights on a railing and looks you in the eye, tilting its little head at you. It’s welcoming you inside.

               The path is gradually widening, the travellers are far ahead of us, blurry green specks, forging the path ahead with their staffs. There’s a sign now. A wooden stake with weather beaten board nailed onto it, snow decorating its features. Written on it in large letters are the words:

               SOBETWEEN – THE TOWN BETWEEN LAND AND SEA

               You can see the cabins now, feel the warmth of hearth and company even from here, though a gate blocks our way. Just a garden gate, little, wooden, intricately carved. There’s no wall, no fence – the gate only spans the width of the road, nothing blocks us from stepping around it but let us step through. Come on, listen as it creaks, as it welcomes you in. Make sure you close it behind you. It is keeping the forest out.

There are several wooden cabins with candles in their windows and snow on their ledges and green wreaths with red bows on every door. Wrapped up warm with the fading sunset to light their music sheets, a choir is singing in the centre of the cobbled square of Faraway and a King in a manger who’s born today. Most houses have families, grandmas and grandpas, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, sitting and laughing around their simple hearths shining brighter for the joy that surrounds them. Yet still, the street is filled with people.

People who walk around with steaming hot drinks or sit in circles on brightly coloured blankets over the snow, with their books and knitting and all sorts of crafts or stoking some of the outside fires. Bunting hangs between houses, crowning the square that’s filled with little market stalls full of all sorts of wonders and things from far off dreams. Can you smell the pastries, rich and flavourful? Coffee wafts from one direction, and tea from the next, and a soft scent of chocolate running through everything. There are games with children lining up to knock down coconuts, or throw hoops over poles stuck in the snow, quite a few are leaning at peculiar angles.

Everyone is wrapped up warm in colourful wools and fabrics. Fabrics that I can tell you were woven in their own homes. Comfortable hats and gloves that fit just right, cloaks of all fashions, thick and soft scarves that are flowing softly in the slight wind.

One stall even has some of these winter garments on display to be sold. A young lady sits by it, making little teddy-bears with a hook and a ball of wool. Every now and again a child would come along with a home-made bracelet, or a crayon drawing, one came over and sang her a song. Each time they left with a teddy-bear and a smile.

  There are those strangers again, the ones we followed on the road! His face is as red as a cherry, his breath fogging in the air, but he’s smiling from ear to ear. He’s happy to be home, taking everything in as a year’s change has left its mark. He’s welcomed by his brother, who calls him a Little Thief. She watches on, as if she’s never seen brotherly affection before. She’s taken by surprise as her handshake is met by a hug, not knowing how to return it beyond a few awkward pats.

The brother comments, and he shrugs, while she is distracted by the crowds milling around us, specifically the area with the scarves. His mum’s been missing him, his brother tells him, but I think this may be more interesting. Look behind them, a small bundled up blur is racing down the path in their direction. She regards it curiously as his brother refers to yet another sibling who’s been missing him as well. The blur leaps and knocks him to the floor with a fierce battle cry.

Once they’ve recovered and both stood up, snow resting on their blond heads as it rests on the trees around us, the little one turns to her, tugging at her cloak. This little one has a destiny far greater than you could guess, than any of them know, but for now he’s a child at home, and that is a darker story for another day.

“You must be from Faraway?” She looks down, see how her dark hair frames her face,

“Yes, I am from pretty far away,”

“Pretty Faraway? Is that further than Faraway? I didn’t know there was anything further than Faraway? Are their places further than Faraway?” She mouths the words ‘Far away’ trying to make sense of this.

“She’s from Faraway, over the forest and hills, and across the southern seas,” He tells the little one, kneeling down, and brushing the snow of the little one’s shoulders. The little one looks at her in wide-eyed wonder at this description, having never met anyone from Faraway, never mind someone from over the forest and hills, or across the southern seas.

She slips away from the conversation, towards the market stalls, I think she knows that she will not be needed in this conversation. A conversation that turns to the temperature dropping as winter is coming along. Winter that brings the powdery snow and turns the lake to ice. That is when ice-skates become the fashion.

Never have you seen so many ice-skates. Big skates, smalls skates, blue skates, pink skates, possibly invisible skates but I think it’s more likely they’re just sliding in their shoes.

I invite you to step in closer, to place on your ice-skates. If any take your fancy, they cost a dance on the ice. Don’t worry if you don’t know how, I’ve never seen anyone fall over here, they say there’s magic around the place in Sobetween. Maybe you can see it if you’re looking closely. Look at the laughter between family members around a hearth next door to us. Look at the children shouting their games that sound so nonsensical to us grown-ups, apart from those of us who still remember the language of make-believe and what a wonderful language it is. There’s magic in the red cheeks, in the skating feet, in the winter air that’s just cold enough and in the snow around that crunches the right amount.

It’s crunching now, just behind you. That’s right, turn around, it’s them again. Don’t worry, they can’t see you. Even if they could, I’m not sure they see anyone but each other. Their faces are glowing, but not with the cold, not anymore. I think it’s some of the magic I was mentioning before.

He’s pulling her towards the lake, walking backwards in big brown skates, they don’t look like they should fit, but somehow, he keeps his balance, as she, in borrowed skates, pulls him to a stop, so he doesn’t step on someone’s toe. He should be wearing a scarf, she’s telling him. She can’t have helped him travel back home only for him to catch his death, just think of what his mother will say. He just laughs. Crunching and talking, he’s laughing, she’s smiling, and then they’re on the ice and they’re gliding.

Is there anyone still around? Have they all sat down to watch this dance? Have the children been distracted from their make-believe to see the beauty of what real life can look like?

               He’s actually a stranger to Sobetween. Something that rarely happens. He arrived quite some years ago and was taken in by his now-mother, Sobetween worked together and soon a new room was added to their mix of a house, long and flat and blue. Blue as the sky on a frozen day, as the eyes of the woman who took his breath away. The woman who he dances with now, green and blue, grass and sky, spring and winter dancing by.

A dog bounds up to them, straight for him. She asks if it’s another one of his strays, she’s holding back a smile. He introduces her to the dog, Carol, as Carol wags her tail, slipping around on the ice, slowly guided back to shore. He found her a few years ago in the woods, and thought he should take her in.

She remarks that she must be a stray too, that she understands the feeling of being found, being taken in. She looks around at the town of Sobetween and comments that it’s very nice, nothing like she had ever imagined could exist. It’s wonderful.

The lights are dancing and the sky’s darkening. I think I can see the moon behind the clouds over there, can you see it too? Laughing and talking fill the air, intertwined with the smoke from the fires and the smells of treats and foods awaiting anyone who would fancy any. Go ahead and grab some.

Sobetween is a home, she says, not just a place that people live. Not like her own home, she had spent her whole life wanting to go away. She’s only been here a few hours. Can’t you see that she wishes she could stay?

She looks over at her friend and passes him a parcel. I’ve seen that paper before somewhere, that paper from the stalls, when they gift wrap presents. Out folds a forest green scarf. He’s reminded of something as he wraps it around his neck, his hand drops to his pocket, as it’s her he regards.

I invited you here for this reason, now watch as they come to a still. All the town seems to be watching, no one is feeling the chill. I’ve never seen anyone fall on the ice, but now we’ve seen someone kneel. The box is blue with frosted white, the ring is emerald on silver. I’ve never seen someone smile so wide, but now I’ve seen someone fall.

That Little Thief of Sobetween and the stranger from Faraway.