- What are you staring at, nanny?
- Nothing, my dear. Reflecting on my past, that's it, nothing that could matter to you.
A little girl with straw-colour hair and big, wide-open hazel eyes nodded with all energy she could find in her tiny body. It was easy to believe that this old, crooked, even a little bit scary lady was telling the truth. What interesting could there be in her head for such a nice, lovely creature like the girl herself? If not for grandma's signature floury scent of fresh bread and honey-covered cookies, the girl would genuinely fear the old lady. There was a certain emptiness in her eyes, aloofness that was truly difficult to grasp for the girl - as if the grandma, when staring at her, saw something through her, lurking behind her back, hidden deeply in her 10-years old soul. Was the grandma gazing at her past self, trapped in her granddaughter's body? Whatever was living in the grandma's mind, the girl wanted to have nothing to do with it. To the point in which she was pretty convinced grandma would see and talk to ghosts.
- Oh yes, yes... so it was, it was... - would she murmur, not opening fully her toothless mouth. A terrifying smell would come from her mouth hole - that's why the girl didn't really like to hug her grandma. But she had to, eventually, four times a year - on her and grandma's birthday, on Christmas and Easter. Apart from these exceptions ordered by the holy word of her own mother, she would aptly avoid finding herself next to grandma's face and old, dry, white-red body. A least, as much as she could, given her duty was to take care of the old hag.
This time, though, the greatest enemy of the girl - excluding sickness and death, of course - visited her childish mind - its name was Boredom.
Rarely would the girl feel bored - the moments she was spending outside the hut would always bring plenty of simple, foolish amusement and joy of playing together in a larger group of Żwirki's children horde. The ones spent at home filled with daily chores - these were also close to get the girl bored immensely, though in the past she could use those precious moments for carrying hours-long disputes with her mother and 6-years older sister. With fresh, girly voices around, even such mundane chore like plucking feathers would become an event worth memorising. Now, the girl's mother was dead, and her sister married to a smith from an adjacent village, Kostno. She would still visit her younger sister and old grandma (though she never really liked any of them, she had to keep the promise given to her dying mother that fatal night), bringing some wood, material and food. She knew once the old hag would die, the girl would be left alone on this cruel world. The sister wouldn't let her live at Kostno, for reasons known only and only to her heart. Hence, to purify conscience enough, she'd take as much care of both as possible, to delay grandma's death and let the young girl come to marital age before then.
- Nanny, why don't you tell me more about what you're staring at? This time, I'm really dying to know what your heart is hiding.
- If you show a real interest, my dear granddaughter, do hand me some milk with honey, so I can strengthen my throat, and then tell you some stories I saw with my own eyes in my life.
- Have you seen ghosts, nanny?
- I have seen way more than mere ghosts, my dear. I have seen love, and hatred, and fear and lust. I have witnessed courage and cowardy, and sacrifice, and murder.
- Who did murder who, granny? - interrupted the girl, clearly excited, shaking voice, glowing eyes. Would this evening be different from others, would this one bring something to her life? - such was her thinking.
- Love murdered life, my dear. This, and many other stories I can tell you this evening. But remember my dear, not without my warm milk with some honey.
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