Susan and her Family - 4

  And trying once again. Still missing: Perpendicular, Virtuous, Pedestrian, Typewriter, and Dashing. 
  The story continues, but the words just did not want to play. Maybe I'll have to continue the story until the words are used up or next Wednesday comes around. 

Susan awoke early next morning, She was cold, and had to go to the smelly outhouse. She pulled on her socks; and carrying her sandals she went quietly through the narrow corridor, into the living room, out into the entrance room and out trough the door. The door was not locked. It never was. Minor raised his head and looked at Susan. "Good boy, stay there!" She said quietly. At the outhouse door she stopped, the owls were no longer at the clothes line, a thin fog was lifting from the water, hiding the top of the trees.The sun was about to rise over the soft hills to the southeast, It felt as if the world was holding its breath.
  The Sun rose and shed a golden glow over the world, the treetops glowed and the birds all began singing at once. What a morning!
  Shivering from the cold Susan hurried into the outhouse, did what had to be done, and went inside the house again. She did not want to go back to the tiny guest room. The bed was uncomfortable and the room miffy. The straw mattress smelled good, but the donas were filled with lumps, mostly too heavy and either too cold or too hot. Most of the miffines came from the walls, really. Granny and Auntie G had decided that this part of the house should have its walls renewed next summer. They walls of the house were all made from timber frames, that originally were filled out with mud. The rest of the house had had the mud removed and bricks laid instead, and new windows too. But the two tiny guest rooms in the upper end were still mud walled.  Now the roof was renewed, the house would slowly dry out, and become less miffy. But this was still in the future. Susan sat down on the couch under the windows in the living room, she looked through the newspapers, nothing of interest there. She then turned around, kneeling on the couch and looked out between the rose geraniums into the garden. She was still cold. A spread, made of crocheted granny squares in bright colours covered most of the couch. she draped it around her shoulders, gradually she got warm, the birds began looking for worms in the lawns, the corn rustled as a fox passed through the tall stalks. She admired granny for growing corn. She had tried at home, with not much success, the stalks grew tall, but the ears never ripened before the frost took them.
  Granny came into the room, dressed and ready to begin the day. Susan turned around and said: "Good morning, Granny, why can't I grow corn like yours at home?"
  Granny startled, sat down upon a chair and said: "What a peculiar question. Firstly, you live up north; yes I know the distance is not that great, but there's a something, a border, a line, call it what you like. Down here we're south of that line, and where you live it's north of that line. And then it's the seeds, the planting and oh, so many other things. But this was not what I wanted to talk with you about. You've got the gift, I think."
  "Which gift?" Susan asked with surprise in her every fibre. "My birthday was a bit more than two weeks ago."
  Granny laughed softly. "The day before yesterday I told you about your great-great-grandmother, and you listened in the kitchen, as the woman from the fishing village came for me, I think you added one and one and got two."
  Susan nodded, not quite sure that she was right.
  "Yes," Granny continued, "I am, like my grandmother, a wise woman. There's not that much use for us any longer, I help the stubborn men in the fishing village, I sit by old dying people, I help out when there's strife and trouble. I also help plants to grow, sometimes. And I think you too, my little girl, has this gift. I see it in you, but it's somehow different ... changed?" Granny ended on a questioning note.
  "Yes," Susan said, "I'm like you and great-great-grandmother, and yet I'm not." I'm not good with people. I'm better with animals, and small children, those that do not say one thing and think another. I also love trees and I would like to learn more of your plant lore. But during these summer holidays my place is at The Farm."
  "I heard those capital letters," Granny said smiling. "I did not know a school was started up, I suppose the Icelandic Wise ones are behind this. They were always closer to the magic, or what you might call it." Susan nodded and opened her mouth.
  Granny put her finger to her lip: "Shush, Susan! Do not tell me any more. I smell troubled times ahead and I cannot betray what I do not know."
  Granny held Susan's chin and looked into her eyes. Now you listen, and afterwards forget most of this: "Your Mom does not have much of the Gift, only the empathy that goes with it, and that's a hard thing to be able to feel others pain and not being able to help. Auntie G has it too, but her broken heart has clouded her mind. She could do great things, but I suspect she never will. My only son has closed that door in his mind. It's not a thing for modern times and rational beings. And he's very rational and prosperous, at least in his own mind. Your aunt Dina is nice, but not Gifted. You, and probably the middle of Auntie G's girls have to carry the torch."

***

Susan felt very anticlimactic as she crossed the line of trees separating Unicorn Farm from the rest of the island. She had lived through so much the last two weeks, she felt like she should have grown at least a handspan. But still it was nice to be back. Her striped skirt hung at its place on the hooks, and the same did the green tunic. She quickly shed her light summer dress and pulled on her apprentice wear. She then ran down the length of the barn to join the green team on their way out into the sunlight. Today was biology day.

And this was the last post of the NaNoWriMo.
 My word count is approximately 12.200 words on Susan's story during November. 
I do not know how much you normally "have to" do, but I think this is quite a lot.