A Love Story, Part 1: How It Began

In an open pasture littered with wildflowers, a little girl with brown hair and sparkling blue eyes played. Just a mile and a half away stood a brown cottage that had always been her home, and in it her mother was cooking supper. The dinner bell would ring as soon as her father got home from work, and he was already on his way. But Anthropy had no idea of the time, she was running around with arms outspread pretending she was an eagle, and eagles didn’t have deadlines.

Anthropy spent many days this way. She didn’t have siblings, so she kept herself company, and her imagination worked on overtime coming up with things to amuse. As she grew, she learned to do all the work that her mother did, and consequently spent less and less time frolicking aimlessly. 

So, it was just the normal routine one day, when eighteen-year-old Anthropy was sent to the market to buy fresh vegetables, and nothing gave her reason to suspect anything unusual. (But of course, something unusual did happen, as is bound to with a setup like that.)

She decided to take her favourite way home, (it was the longest route, but the most scenic) which involved crossing a narrow tree branch over a muddy creek. She’d made the same trek so many times that she didn’t care to look where her feet fell, and was very surprised when her toes caught a knot in the wood and she went sprawling, fresh produce and all.

What was even more surprising was the laugh that followed her unfortunate footing. She looked up through wet strands of brown hair to see a young man jump into the creek and wade toward her. He grabbed her purchases first and set them on dry ground, then he reached his hand out to her, “Are you alright Miss?”

”Yes, I think so,” she said, taking his hand. He helped her out of the creek, and they both examined the damage done to her things. Some of them would be fine after washing, but she had landed on the most delicate of them, and they were pretty well ruined. Sighing heavily, she picked them up and turned to her helper. “Thank you,” said she, “I’ll be getting home now.” “Let me walk you home!” He offered quickly, “I mean, to make sure you get there safely.” “I think I’ll be alright, she returned, “But thank you all the same.” 

“I should feel better if you’d let me.” 

“Well, alright then.” 

“What’s your name?” He asked, taking her bags from her. “Anthropy,” she replied, smiling shyly. “And yours?” 

“I’m Khriein.”

Time seemed to vanish as they walked and talked, for they were back at the house before they knew it, and it seemed as though they were old friends, chatting about everything they knew. He tipped his cap, turning to leave before his face broke out into a massive grin. The rest of the day, she couldn’t stop thinking of him, and when her parents asked, she didn’t know what to say.

***

Soup was on the wood stove the next day when a knock resounded at the door. Her mother went to answer it, and a moment later her name was called. Wiping her hands on her apron, she walked to the door, where Khriein stood on the porch. “I brought you some vegetables,” he said, “to replace the damages from yesterday.”

“Thank you!” Suddenly yesterday’s glee was explained. Her mother took the bags from Khriein, (who was still smiling at Anthropy) and said, “I’d like some time to make supper by myself today, why don’t you two go for a walk?” 

Anthropy nodded, kissed her mother on the cheek, and practically ran out the door. They promptly lost track of time again and didn’t notice until the sky began to turn bright streaks of orange and pink. 

Coincidentally, their out-of-the-way house happened to be on Khriein’s way to work, so they came to expect him briefly twice every day and more on the weekends. One day however, he was late. 

At noon she heard the familiar sound of his heavy steps on the wooden porch, and a knock at the door. When she opened it, he was smiling, but something was a little different in his manner. “Would you walk with me?” He asked, before she had a chance to greet him. “Of course!” She quickly took off her apron, and wordlessly, they walked to the creek where they’d first met. She looked at him with concern, for he was usually quite talkative. ”I must ask you something,” he stammered. 

“Yes?” 

“Do you love me? That is—I love you!” He said, his face turning bright red, “I need to know if you feel the same.” “Yes!” She answered. “Yes, of course I love you.” Relief spread over his face and he took her hand, “Then I will go to your father for his blessing.” Anthropy nodded, her face pink. They walked back to the house hand in hand.

Part 2: Peor