There was no time. Not like there used to be. Something had suddenly changed, or maybe it wasn’t so sudden. Willa tried her best to understand the change — life, her, it was all she could do to attempt to adjust for the return of her husband. Things were so different. She was so different. Willa tried to recall how many days it had been — too long. How many years? Too many. Letters had all but stopped coming, until the last one… She tried to shake the thoughts, pervading as they were. She had believed him dead, at least thought it was possible. But now, her husband was coming home, John was coming home. She should have been happy, but she wasn’t. No, that wasn’t quite right…
She was happy. She wanted to see him, smell him, touch him, and she desperately wanted him to touch her. It had been too long for all of that. But there was also some anxiousness. She had changed. And she knew that meant he had also changed. Willa paced around their home, waiting. It was a listless kind of gait that infringed upon her peace of mind as well as the security about herself that she had built in John’s absence. The thought gave her pause. Was this what she was afraid of? Losing who she had become? She tried to dismiss the thought, but couldn’t. In her husband’s absence, while he was off fighting a holy war, she had grown in her own power, forged her own way, garnered her own path, and it was a freedom that she didn’t want to relinquish, though she loved her John.
“My lady,” a voice, quivering, called out to her.
Willa turned to face her handmaid, Faisal. Faisal was a pale woman, older than she, dark hair, almost a burnt orange. She could have been her older cousin, the daughter of a mother’s sister, it was such an awkward age difference between them.
“Yes, Faisal,” Willa answered.
“Steward Marshall has just informed me that a caravan has arrived in town — into Gordynn,” she answered back.
Willa’s heart leaped. Then it fell, sinking back down deep into the recesses of her chest. It was an uncomfortable feeling, close to despair, and she didn’t like it, she didn’t want it, it felt like a betrayal to her husband who had been gone for so long.
“Okay…” Willa replied, drawing a deep breath as she answered. “Let us go prepare to meet him.”
The moment that he stepped out of the caravan, she knew that he was different. It wasn’t just because his face was so ill-shaven and haggard, but it was also in his eyes. He had seen horrors that were beyond compare. She could see it on him, but even more than that, she could feel it. More so than anyone else, that was a part of her change. She could feel and sense things better, at a heightened level. She loved it, but not now, not with him.
John saw her and waved. It was a half wave, full of hesitancy. His hair was mostly long, cut too uneven on one side, maybe from a bad trim or necessitated because of some kind of head injury, she wasn’t sure. His obtuse hair gave him an odd look, incongruent and strange. She didn’t want to think such things about the man she loved and had longed to see for so many years, but her own feelings and who she was now, called for her to be honest with herself, and above all, authentic and responsible to her feelings. John approached her.
“M-my lady…” he stuttered.
Willa bowed, not fully, that had never been their custom, but only a quarter of the way down. When her body rose to full posture, John was there, on her, he hesitantly pressed his body against hers, and together they were thrown into an embrace. Willa found herself wrapping her arms around him and inhaling deeply. He didn’t smell the same, not completely. She pressed her face into the nape of his neck, allowing her lips to brush against his skin just the slightest. He didn’t taste the same. Willa held on to John and John to her. She didn’t want to let him go, and she knew the reason, whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not… He was different, but so was she.
“Lemme see you—” John started, but then stop, pulling back from their embrace and her arms.
There was the smallest of space between them. Then a pause. He looked at her with earnest eyes, she could feel them on her, heavy and searching. Willa knew what John’s eyes were searching for — home, and she wanted to give it to him, the best she could, but things were different. She could see that about him, and she already knew it about herself.
“You look beauti —” but he stopped, something got hung in his throat.
“Thank you, my lord,” Willa replied politely and swiftly.
John took her hand, and they walked off together, towards home, to spend their first night together as husband and wife in as many as six years.
TO BE CONTINUED:
So, there it is. New content. The first part of my illustrated short story, WILLA, with art by Anthony Pugh. WILLA will be a three-part story, each with an illustration from Anthony, and will release on Tuesdays — Part II on January 10, and the conclusion, Part III on January 17th. Overall, we hope that you enjoy this dark romance. There’s a lot going on with Willa, and while it hasn’t quite been revealed in Part I, the hint that she’s changed and that he’s changed is an important element of the story. Next week, you’ll find out how she’s changed…
Also, I want to shout out my right-hand man, graphic designer Jerry Nilsson of Logical Kaos Design for constructing the WILLA logo for me. He’s brilliant at what he does and just keeps getting better. Thanks for reading, HAPPY NEW YEAR, and talk soon —
Brian
1/3/23
Good stuff. The paragraph starting with "The moment that he stepped out of the caravan..." is beautifully written. I have to ask, though: what's with the substack blockquotes? They seem somewhat arbitrarily placed.
Excellent story! I look forward to reading the rest of it. Is your process for writing prose similar or different to comics? If you don’t mind me asking. Thanks for another great newsletter!