Read The Golden Desires Online
Authors: Ann M Pratley
The Golden Desires
The Golden Desires
~~
The Golden Desires: Book One
~~
ANN M PRATLEY
Copyright © 2016 Ann M Pratley
All rights reserved.
Special Thanks to
Damsels in Design
who provided such a wonderfully beautiful cover. For more about this
incredible designer please refer to the final page of 'The Golden Desires' and
visit:
http://www.damselindesign.com.au
TABLE OF CONTENTS
UPCOMING RELEASE: TOTAL NEW BEGINNINGS
INTRODUCING: CRUISING THROUGH TO FULFILMENT
INTRODUCING: PAINFUL DELIVERANCE
INTRODUCING: DARKNESS OF HEART
INTRODUCING: FRIENDSHIP OF DESIRE
BONUS EXTRACT: DRAB TO SEX GODDESS IN 365 DAYS
Special Thanks to the Incredible Cover Designer for 'The Golden
Desires'
1 ~ THE B
RICK
S AND MORTAR
From a great distance it could be
seen as a silhouette that should have immediately commanded attention. Vast and
high, located and stretching across the broad horizon line of a long mountain
range, the shape of the structure looked like it might be a castle, built hundreds
- maybe thousands - of years ago. A structure constructed to house reigning
monarchs and their hoards of higher and lower class minions. For this reason it
might have been regarded as somewhere that attracted people from far and wide,
but to this place no-one ever came. No-one from
outside
, that is.
If anyone had ever seen and found curiosity about
the structure, the closer they got, the more the grey brick would have become
visible, as would the strength of its walls and an indication of the many hundreds
of years they had stood.
But it was cold - too cold for outsiders to
venture toward. The mountain range was its protection. A place where no-one ever
endeavoured to go. Indeed, for the most part, the structure was long ago forgotten
and now unheard of to the known world, located in an area that people saw no
need whatsoever to ever go near.
To the people of our time and world, it was a
wasteland and a wilderness. There would be nothing of value there and it could
not be habitable in such extreme temperatures. It must have been built in a
different time … in a different climate.
So no-one of the present world gave it a thought.
The people who had built it must have been long dead, and the story of the
structure must have died with them.
After all, if they had still been alive, they
would have been
ancient
.
Isabella set off for her morning
chore of taking her large basket to gather eggs from the chickens and deliver
them safely to the kitchen. Being a kitchen that served more than 2,000 people,
it was a place that bustled all day and all night, having workers coming and
going throughout all hours in a well oiled gear of order that had worked for
hundreds of years. It was the heart of the sanctuary - the place that kept the
habitants fed and healthy.
No sickness had come to the small township for as
long as anyone could remember. No-one ever questioned why they did not get sick
- it had simply just always been the way for the people who currently resided
there. They did not question why no-one ever got ill, simply because they had
no idea what illness
was
.
Around her, Isabella saw so many faces that she
had known since the day she had been born. Always the same faces, day after
day. Some her age, some younger, and many older. They were a constancy in her
life, as was the daily routine of each and every one of them.
She had a restlessness inside of her - she always
had. But she knew the rules. It was forbidden to go even near the outer walls, she
knew, let alone try and leave via the tall wooden gates that stood high against
the sky backdrop.
No-one had ever told her why she must never go
near the walls or the village gates. And sometimes she wondered if anyone did
actually know why it was forbidden at all, or if generation after generation
simply accepted the rules and never questioned them.
Now 21 years of age, Isabella had grown into a
similar young woman as any other 21 year old in the township's population. Her
only real exception was the colour of her hair, which was not as light as half
of the residents, nor as dark as the other half of the residents. She did not
even know what colour to name it, but had heard others refer to it as the
colour of a dark flame. That description she had never understood since all
flames she had seen were more like a yellow than the reddish tone of her hair,
but perhaps the elders and the ancients knew of a dark flame that was
different.
In everything, the elders and ancients knew most
and knew best. How many years they had lived in their lives no-one knew. But
they were old enough to live separately from the rest of the community. They
resided in the large temple that stood majestically in the centre of the
village. Constructed of stone with writing and messages on the front of it,
Isabella often stopped and looked at it on her daily rounds. Nothing about it
ever changed but now and then she felt herself drawn to it, as if it were
calling to her. Just her.
~~~~~
"Good morning, Miss Isabella!" she heard
Cook Joan call out to her as she entered the broad kitchen area, making
Isabella smile at the vision before her.
Always - every single morning - Cook Joan was a
sight to see, most often with flour through her hair, and her hair in a mess
around her face, the greying hair looking sometimes more like a nest the
chickens built for themselves, rather than how Isabella was sure it
should
look.
In addition, it was always a pleasant surprise to see which colours and shapes
she would see on the cook's apron.
"Hmm … must be something with tomatoes today,
I am guessing?" Isabella teased the older woman before her, having made
the judgement purely by the red colour and scattering of small yellow seeds
that seemed to be ground into the apron in front of her.
Cook Joan laughed heartily and out loud, throwing
her head back as she did so, and Isabella could see the cook's whole body
shaking with laughter.
"Oh Miss Isabella, how well you know me by
now! Yes today for lunch we shall have a slow roasted tomato rice pie. Oh it is
going to be…" she said before delivering a wide gesture with her hands to
indicate an impression of magnificence. "Oh, make sure you get some early
because it will disappear quickly today!"
Isabella laughed at the cook. Every day she came
up with new and adventurous ways to use the spoils of the fields and orchard
within the village. But even though it appeared to be some kind of magic on her
part, every day she did produce something delicious. Never were there any
complaints about the meals that were cooked by Cook Joan, or any of the many other
cooks that worked as hard as she did.
"Well, here are your eggs. Is there anything
else you would like me to gather for you this morning?" Isabella asked, as
was always her way at this time every single day.
"Oh, now let me think…" Cook Joan
replied, going into her thoughtful pose, chin resting on her hand, which in
turn belonged to the arm that connected the elbow that rested on her other
hand. "Oh, yes! Please, Miss Isabella, if you would be so kind. Could you
go and harvest for me some basil - just a large handful will be sufficient -
and a small amount of oregano. Only two or three sprigs of that will do."
Isabella waited a few moments longer, as she knew
that often there was an afterthought coming…
"Oh! Wait, and if there are any ripe, half a
dozen apples. Only if they are red, mind you - the green ones are not as sweet.
If there are no red ones, then do not worry, just leave them on the tree and I
shall use them another day."
Isabella nodded and smiled at the older woman.
"Very well, Cook Joan. I shall return shortly
with your gifts," she said with a teasing sound in her voice, making the
cook laugh at her once again.
~~~~~
Once out of the kitchen, Isabella walked quietly
toward the garden and orchard area, on the way being met by her friend Adrian.
"Isabella! Wait!" she heard him call and
then saw him running toward her, his usual broad smile gracing his face.
She watched him, smiling, as he caught his breath.
"You know you never have to run after me,
Adrian. Even on these days where you have slept in and missed breakfast, you
know that I would gladly wait for you," she said to him, teasing him and
making him blush slightly in the process as they began their routine walk
together.
"Well I know you keep saying that but if I
didn't run you might
not
stop and wait for me. And then where would I
be? My morning would be ruined, for it is seeing your beauty that puts such a
smile on my face first thing, and stays in the forefront of my mind all day
long, until I can go to bed at night, dreaming of your lovely face," he
ran off in dialogue to her, making her laugh out loud.
"Oh, Adrian, stop it!" she said,
laughing hard with and at him. "You do talk such nonsense!"
"Ahh but see how successful I am in putting
such a smile on your face. That is reward enough to me for delivering such
creative poetry to you each and every morning, my beautiful Isabella."
She looked at him and saw the all too familiar
cheeky grin that he sported. The two of them had grown up together, as had
everyone their age. In such a closely knitted and guarded community, everyone
was familiar with everyone. As far as they knew, it was as it always had been
for centuries, and seemed to work in keeping everyone tranquil and easy with
one another.
"Now then, how are your mother and father
this morning?" she asked him, knowing he always had something fun to
report to her. "And your sisters?"
"Oh dear, my
sisters.
Well! Little
Mary this morning fell and hurt her little knees, causing great mayhem and
noise in our home. I don't know why she keeps tripping over her own feet, but
she seems to do it excessively!" he started, watching Isabella's face
break out into a further smile. "But other than that, nothing has changed
from yesterday, or the day before…"
Isabella looked closely at her friend, hearing
melancholy in his voice.
"Would you prefer your family was always in
vexation?"
"No! Oh, no, of course not. But, Isabella,
don't you ever wish that there was change. That
something
would
change?"
The two of them had talked about the same
conversation many times, but each time she felt a slight concern for him when
he brought the subject up. She too felt the yearnings for something different
to happen, but she would never be verbal about it, even to the good friend
standing before her. She had been raised to appreciate everything she had, and
no matter the level of turmoil she sometimes felt inside, she was committed to
keeping
it inside.
"Adrian, I am happy. I love being here,"
she said, waving one hand around to indicate she meant the entire village.
"I love my family. I love all the people I come in contact with every day.
And I love…" She paused, making him look closer at her. "I love
having you as my friend. No, I am happy enough and I don't need anything
more."
He was quiet for a few minutes, which was not
necessarily normal for him, but he found more and more that on occasion he
needed to quieten his mind and the best way to do that was to quieten his
speech.
"Very well, Isabella. We shall not talk of
this again today. So tell me, what things are you seeking today in the
gardens?" he asked, veering the conversation to a much safer subject.
"Well, Cook Joan wants me to get some basil
and some red apples - not green! - and something else. I shall remember when I
get there…"
He laughed at her. Almost every day she forgot one
thing that was asked of her, and to him it was an ongoing joke that made him
feel both greatly affectionate toward her, and exasperated with her, due to her
determination to always just remember things and never write them down in any
way.
Finally they approached the fork in the path that would
take Adrian down to his workstation for the day - the grain mill - while
Isabella would head down the other path to the garden and orchard.
"Can I see you later?" he asked her,
stopping and facing her.
"Of course. I will see you at dinner…"
"No. I mean after dinner. Can we spend some
time together … tonight?"
Isabella smiled at him with her usual friendly and
relaxed smile, while nodding at him in reassurance.
"Of course. Have dinner with me and we can go
on from there."
He smiled broadly at her and then turned and
started to walk away, turning once to give her another smile and a wave.
Isabella turned and continued down her chosen path
for the moment, in deep thought about Adrian. She saw so many people every day
and knew the names of so many in the village, and yet he always seemed to be
the only one who ever questioned their existence in the way that he did. He was
happy-natured and yet sometimes just so …
discontent
. And she did not
know how he had come to be like that - so different from everyone else. Even
though she herself felt like that at times, she had long ago recognised that there
was a different degree of it deep inside of Adrian.
~~~~~
Finally Isabella reached her destination. As she
entered the small iron gate she was immediately greeted by a wide plethora of sights
and scents. In this first section of the wide open space in front of her,
vegetables were laid out in strict rows that from a distance looked absolutely
perfectly straight, although whenever she got closer she recognised there was a
far more relaxed imperfection about the garden.
The vegetable and herb growing area was vast, as
it needed to be to feed so many people, and always when she entered the area
she could see a healthy amount of people working away - some weeding, some
planting, some watering.
"Good morning, Isabella," someone or
other would yell out to her and she would cordially greet them in return with a
smile on her face.
She was always envious of the people who worked in
the gardens. They were there because they truly loved it, and gained so much
satisfaction from it. Just like Cook Joan gained so much joy from working in the
village kitchen. Just like the clothier found so much happiness in making his
creations. Just like the blacksmith working with metal in repairing and making
things for others. People around her just seemed to know what they wanted to do
in their lives - for their
whole
lives - and then they started doing it,
learning from the elders of their trade and then becoming elders of the trade
themselves.
At 21 years old, she too should by now have
established herself into some trade or other, but instead she seemed to have fallen
into a role of assistant to a great number of people, all of different trades
and stations. It wasn't the way things were meant to be, and yet she did love
it as it meant that she drifted all day long, fetching this for this person,
and that for that person. It was a nice way to spend her time even though she
knew her mother wished for her to pair up with someone and start a family, to
help contribute to the ongoing survival of the community. But even in that she
was uncertain. She knew everyone so well that all the men her age were her
friends, and that made it difficult to determine who would be the best pairing
partner, or the best father for her children. How was one to make such a
choice?
~~~~~
"Adrian," she said, smiling as her
friend sat beside her at her dinner table that evening. "How was the mill
today?"
Adrian looked less than his usual cheerful self as
he looked at her intently and then grabbed a bread roll from the basket set
before them on the long wooden table.
"The mill has not been so good today,
Isabella. It is the time of year when there is less water flowing from the
mountain, which causes the water wheel to slow down, and in turn slows down
milling of the grains. But it is still working well enough - we have a good
store of grain to see us through times like this, but it is hard at this time
of year. It certainly makes for a long day with everything moving so much
slower in the mill!"