Chelsea Barnwell

FICTION

M’ill and H’ill

In a daze, I fingered the door handle without getting out of the taxi.

“What did you say this city was called?”

The driver looked at me through his rearview. “M’ill.”

As I got out, he drove off almost before I could shut the door. I brushed dog hair off my dress and smoothed down my hair. I didn’t seem to have my handbag with me. If it was still in the taxi, there was no getting it back now. I began to walk down the wide city street.

I hadn’t gone far before my stomach began to growl. I spotted a convenience store on the next block. Perhaps … oh, that’s right, no handbag. I walked in anyway, past a large “No Stealing” sign. I searched the depths of my pockets. Only a paper clip. Hmm, not very handy. With a sigh, I moved toward the exit. I felt a tap on my shoulder.

A woman with long, straight hair and the reddest lipstick I’d ever seen gave a me a lopsided smile, “Why are you leaving without something? You must be new here.” She winked and grabbed two apples. She linked arms with me and walked calmly past the line at the cashier and out the door. Outside, she tossed me one of the apples and took a large, juicy bite from the other. “You can do anything you want here.”

“What about the signs? Won’t you get in trouble?”

“I don’t worry about it. If the owner finds out, he might retaliate if it’s worth his while, but I’ll enjoy the apple now.”

I really was hungry. I took a bite. My apple seemed mealy and bland, but it was something. Strange, hers had looked so juicy. My new companion began to walk, and I fell in stride with her.

“Why didn’t the cashier object when you took the apples?”

“The cashier only works there anyway. Even if he’d objected, he couldn’t have done anything about it. I wanted them.”

“You can get anything you want here?”

“No, you can’t get anything you want necessarily.” She paused to take another bite. “I mean, it’s not like you can wish for anything and it will come true. You can’t fly or have a million dollars fall in your lap. You can just do what you want.” She tossed the apple core away.

The streets became more crowded as we went further into the city. Milly (as I began to call her in my mind) spoke up again. “I’m going to a party tonight. You should come along! There will be good fun and some laughs. Look, we’ll catch this bus.” I meekly followed her onto the back of the bus, underneath a sign which read “No Lying.” Tickets didn’t seem to be an issue for Milly. The bus was crowded, but Milly pulled me over to where a large man sat with an empty seat beside him. She turned on the damsel-in-distress act. “We’ve been walking all day. I don’t suppose you could let us sit.”

The man looked at her for a moment then slowly turned his frown to a grin. “No reason we can’t all three sit, baby.” He patted his lap. A wedding band barely fit around his thick fingers. With an exaggerated sigh, Milly slid onto his lap then flirtatiously began to play with his hair. I sat on the edge of the vacant seat, trying to give them space. Things seemed to happen so quickly here. No need for inhibitions or social customs. It was nice, in a way.

“Pardon me,” I heard at my shoulder. A tall, good-looking man in a suit tipped his hat. “I couldn’t help noticing your ring.”

“Oh, thanks,” I replied. “It was a present.”

“Beautiful,” he said, gently lifting my hand to look at it more closely. “Genuine emerald, I imagine?”

“Yes, to match my eyes.”

He smiled and nodded his head. Then, very smoothly, he slipped the ring from my finger, held it to the light admiringly, then put it on his own finger. It was a strange sensation. I felt in possession of all my faculties, yet I could not stop him from taking the ring or make any kind of protest. He kissed my hand, winked, and got off at the next stop. I tugged on Milly’s arm, “That fellow just stole my ring!”

Milly disengaged momentarily from her stranger. “Hmm, what? Oh, dear. Well, don’t worry about it. There will be some way of getting it back or getting even, which will be just as good. You’ll see.”

“I should call the police.”

Milly nearly fell out of the big man’s lap with a gasp. “Only an idiot would call the police! The police are impartial. No one wants to catch their attention, or they’ll arrest you on your own charges. No, no, much better to wait for an opportunity to retaliate.” She suddenly sat up, eyes fixed on a short, heavyset woman with a purplish bruise around her eye just getting on at the front of the bus. “Oh Lord, there she is! Quick, out the back!” She scrambled up from the man’s lap and prodded me toward the exit. “Quick, push them down!” In a mad scramble for the door, (Milly might actually have pushed a few people down) we alighted on the sidewalk at a bustling intersection.

As the bus pulled away with the short woman still inside, Milly loudly exhaled, “Whew! Lucky this is our stop anyway.”

“What’s the matter? Did you give her that black eye?”

Milly looked at me in disgust. “What kind of girl do you think I am? I never resort to violence.” She tossed her hair. “I only made her husband think … well, it’s a long story.” She pulled me into a crowded shopping area. She seemed to be perusing the people walking by as much as she was examining the displays in shop windows. “There!” she said suddenly, gripping my arm and pointing across the courtyard to where an elegantly dressed young woman was chatting with her friends. “It’s the perfect color for you, and you’d wear it better than her anyway. She hasn’t got the figure for it, really. Too skinny.”

I mutely nodded my head. The long dress the girl wore was stunning. Perhaps Milly was right. It really would look better on someone with a fuller figure, and the plum color would complement my eyes so nicely.

“Well?” said Milly. “Do you want it or not?”

“Well, I do want it, but can I really do anything about it?”

Milly rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you …”

“I know, I know. This is M’ill. But what about …?” I nodded toward a poster: “No Craving Others’ Belongings.”

“No one will stop you. You want it. Go on.”

With Milly nudging my elbow, I made my way over. To my relief, the girl was just parting from her friends.

“Excuse me,” I said as I felt Milly dig in my ribs. “That’s a lovely dress you’ve got on.”

The girl had been smiling and easy, but now her face froze in suspicion. “Thanks.”

“I don’t suppose you’d let me … I mean I’d like it very much … here, let’s trade.”

The beautiful face contorted into something of a snarl. The girl walked with me into a nearby restroom. She slipped the dress off and callously said, “I see what you mean. I wouldn’t want to wear those old rags any more than I could help it.”

I steeled myself to this retort as I pulled the dress over my head. Lovely, absolutely lovely. Yes, this was what I’d wanted, and it had really only been a trade after all. The girl hastily put on my old dress, and with a parting glare over her shoulder, walked out and away into the crowd.

“Perfect!” oohed Milly, who had somehow accumulated a stunning pair of earrings since I had stepped away but a few minutes ago. “Let’s go. They’ll be starting dinner soon. We aren’t actually invited, so we’ll need to be early and have persistent wills, understand? Remember what you want.”

As we turned a corner, I caught a momentary glimpse through the close-pressed buildings to something beyond the city. Milly would have ploughed ahead, but I held back. “What is that?”

Milly looked around and finally followed my gaze to a rounded hill which seemed to be a long way off. A few houses dotted the hillside with a large cluster of them at the top. She made a depreciating gesture. “Oh, that. That’s only H’ill.”

She would have pulled me on, but something held me to the spot. “What’s over there?”

“You don’t want to go there. No one can do what they want there. They have to do what the rule writer wants.”

“Have you been there?”

“Ha! No. Sometimes people from H’ill come down here, but they are all a bit strange and don’t usually stay long. You have to be crazy to live in H’ill. Come on.”

It did not seem to matter that we hadn’t been invited to the party. A few others were in a similar fix, but had sufficiently strong wills to have forced an entry as well. There was certainly plenty of food heaped upon the table, though this seemed to disappear at an alarming rate. The dinner had not proceeded very far when not a few guests were either asleep on the floor cradling their stomachs or highly intoxicated and attempting to swing on the chandeliers. One bold young woman had taken the host by the hand and led him out with a casual “Don’t mind if we use your bedroom do you, darling?” over her shoulder to the hostess. The hostess, instead of smashing the china to bits (I thought for a moment she might), began to tell the most slanderous, disgusting story I’d ever heard about the exploits of her disfavored guest.

Just at the climax of the story, in walked the handsome gentleman from the bus.

As the fates would have it, the only empty seat was next to me. I noticed a slight flinch as he recognized me, but then he was all charm again. “How nice to see you. What a beautiful dress!”

“Yes, and I am only lacking my ring to complete it.” I had already had a bit too much wine (extraordinarily cheap tasting stuff), and emboldened, I slapped him. I then searched his pockets quickly for the ring. It was nowhere to be found so I pulled on his flashy tie until it fell into his plate to soak up the gravy. Chastened for the moment, he removed his tie and began eating dinner quietly. Milly nodded approvingly, and the gentleman across from me laughed appreciatively. I felt that the dinner was going extremely well.

Milly and I were about to leave when the gentleman from the bus pulled my arm. “A moment in the garden, please.”

Milly sighed. “Sorry, dearie. We didn’t leave soon enough. I’ll see you outside when he’s done.” Deserted by my friend, and once again with the strange sensation of having no choice, I followed the man and wondered what revenge he willed. The house boasted a large walled garden, which was now quite dark. We walked until we reached an alcove against the back wall.

The gentleman reached for the zipper on the stunning dress and began to undo it.

“Now really!” I protested.

When every stitch of clothing I had been wearing lay in a neat bundle on the stone garden bench, he leaned in for one long kiss. Picking up my clothes and turning to walk away, he said, “Goodbye. It was a delightful evening.”

Oh, if I could only do something, I’d tear him apart. I supposed I’d have to wait until I saw him again, though I didn’t really want to see him ever again. How was I going to get some clothes? Just then, I heard the unpleasant gentleman’s voice call from the house, “It’s a beautiful night for a stroll about the garden, gentlemen. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. I spotted a dryad a moment ago.” It was answered by a chorus of drunken laughter and a clatter of well-polished shoes.

Unless I wanted to pose as a Grecian statue, over the wall was my only option. Fortunately, there was a thick vine growing along the wall, and I quickly climbed up and over into an alley, though I collected a number of scratches on the way. I followed the alley to the corner, where I saw Milly, playing with a stray cat on the sidewalk. Just before I waved for her attention, there was a sudden screech of tires. I drew back into the shadow. A tall man in a uniform got out of a large black car. Even Milly seemed temporarily awed. The man held up a piece of paper. “Ma’am, you are arrested on the below mentioned charges. You are to be taken into custody until your court date.”

“What?!” protested Milly. She grabbed the paper (which unfolded into a list reaching the ground) and perused the contents. “This is ridiculous!”

“Sorry, ma’am. That’s not for me to decide. The rule writer reviews the cases.” He firmly took Milly’s arm and placed her in the back of the car while she protested, cried, and eventually screamed. The car drove down the street quickly. As it passed the alley, I saw Milly’s face pressed to the window, eyes and mouth wide.

I watched as the ominous black car turned out of sight. When it was gone, I saw lights … far away. I realized they must be the lights on H’ill. Strange how just a few small lights could compete with all the glitz and neon of the city. I was drawn to them.

I began to wind through alleys and side streets, seeking cover from walls and signposts. At last, breaking free of the skyscrapers and smog, I came to an open field. I almost missed it at first, but there was a road, a footpath really, that pointed toward H’ill. I followed it, glad for soil underneath my bare feet instead of pavement. When I reached the base of the hill, it seemed much taller than I’d expected. The path became rocky and steep. I was panting and the sharp stones cut. My hands and knees were already scraped up from sliding about. Why was I coming here anyway? Milly had said that no one could do what they wanted up here, though it seems Milly had been wrong about the rules being unimportant. I thought of her terror-stricken face in the back of the car and shuddered. It was nearly dawn when I reached the top, my feet and knees bleeding and my lungs full of dust. I collapsed in the cool grass. I don’t know how long I lay there, crying, when I realized a woman was standing near me. Startled, I tried to cover myself.

“I saw you coming from M’ill.” She set down a pitcher of water and a white shift dress of some kind. “It is a hard way to come.”

“Yes,” I replied. I availed myself of the water and then pulled the dress on. I looked back down into the valley, where Mill sat like a huge, grim machine. Funny, the neon city lights were hardly visible through the smog and clouds that cloaked the city. From the elevated view, I could make out a large sign emblazoned with lights at the main entrance: “City of M’ill.”

“That’s funny. Why is there an apostrophe in Mill?”

“The name of the city isn’t Mill. It’s My Will. M’ill is for short. Welcome to H’ill.” She smiled broadly and motioned to a sign that said the same. Underneath this greeting, in prominent, legal letters, were the words “Love Him.”

“And H’ill is short for …?” I asked.

“His Will, of course.”

“Are you from here?”

“Only one is from here.”

“Have you been here long?”

“Not long enough.”

“They said you can’t do what you want in H’ill.”

“Well, yes and no. You’ll have to follow the rules, that is, do what he wants. I think you’ll find that you eventually begin to want what he wants anyway, but it isn’t always that easy. And, of course, there are many things that don’t come into the rules at all and so are open for your enjoyment.”

“Did the same person write the rules in M’ill too?”

“Yes, but I fear not many there understand them, as simple as he has tried to make them for those folks. Come, let us go. You must be hungry.”

I was. I took one more look over my shoulder at the wide spreading city. Well, I could always go back if I didn’t like it here. I turned to follow my guide (shall I call her Hilda?). We soon came to a kind of country market. A sign read “Give Generously” and another “Deal Honestly.”

I once again was reminded of the fact that I had no money, but Milly’s tactics didn’t seem quite right here. Suddenly, there was a chunk of bread in my hand. I looked up to thank the woman who sat nearby, but she seemed to ignore me and went on arranging her loaves of bread. Plain bread never tasted so good after that hike. As I continued through the market, other small gifts made their way into my pockets as I followed Hilda. Along the way, I noticed more signs, “Be Content,” “Love Others,” “Make Peace.”

“The rules seem to be different from the ones in M’ill. They seem harder to follow,” I said.

“Maybe you are reading them differently. There is a broadness to them. You probably will find them harder at first.” We had come to a fountain in a courtyard where we sat to enjoy our meal. A child was playing nearby, watching us with shy, curious eyes. He seemed particularly alert to the handful of plump dates I was eating. An idea flickered through my mind that I should offer him some. I looked at them more closely. They were so ripe, almost honeyed, sticking together in a pleasant little clump. No, surely this boy didn’t need them. He looked well fed. It would probably spoil his dinner anyway. I slowly put another date in my mouth, savoring the sweetness and texture. I looked again at the boy. I guess these dates weren’t even paid for, so I really wasn’t losing anything. I slowly held out my hand, offering the dates to him. He grinned and, with a rather dirty hand, reached up and took a few. Seeing how dirty his hand was, I motioned that he should take the rest, which he did with pleasure.

Hilda smiled and stood up. “Come, there will be a feast tonight. We should prepare.” She led me to a house where women were getting ready for the celebration. A sign on the wall said, “Consider Others First.” They also wore simple white dresses, but many had small details added to them in embroidery or trim. Some sat patiently braiding their own hair with precise attention. Others added flowers to each other’s hair and talked and laughed together. This time, I wasn’t offered anything. They weren’t considering me. They were just as bad as the people in M’ill! When no one was looking, I plucked a few flowers growing up by the window for my hair.

As night fell and people began to flood into the square with song and laughter, torches and candles were lit. I again remembered how brightly these lights had burned last night. This was all real and pure light.

Suddenly I felt a hand at my elbow, and a stern voice said, “Excuse me, ma’am.” It was the same policeman who had taken Milly. I pulled away hastily. His grip was firm, though not harsh. “This way, please. I have a warrant.” I looked desperately for Hilda, but she was in the middle of the crowd now setting the table.

There was no car this time, just a short walk through quiet streets. Most of the townspeople seemed to be at the feast already. The policeman stopped at a door and knocked. There was an answer, and he led me into a small room, lit by a few candles and a cheerfully burning fire. A man sat at a desk, pouring over a large book. He was very ordinary, average height, average weight, average everything. He had ink stains and other strange marks on his hands. It occurred to me that this must be the rule writer. Strange, if it weren’t for the ink and the books, I would not have guessed it.

Then he looked at me, eyes full of sternness and knowledge. My face turned red, not the pretty pink blush of a girl, the scarlet red of shame. I wanted to shrink and disappear. The flowers in my hair suddenly felt ridiculous. How foolish that I had thought I could decorate myself in any way, and with stolen goods too. I was worthless. Less than nothing. No, worse than that. Nothing would be neutral, but I was something, something selfish, something cowardly, something deceitful.

“There’s a warrant out for this one, sir. I thought you’d want to review the case personally.”

“Yes, thank you. I will see to it.” He rose to accept a document from the policeman and nodded his head in dismissal. He leaned back against the edge of the desk, and to my horror, the warrant unfolded into a paper waterfall nearly as long as Milly’s.

Beginning to cry, I took a hesitant step toward him. “Please! I can’t,” I whimpered. “I can’t keep them.”

He looked up from the warrant, “What did you say?”

“I can’t keep them, all the rules. I thought only of myself and even took these flowers from H’ill. I’m so sorry.”

He reached out his hand. I hesitantly put mine in his. It was gentler than I’d expected.

“I know you can’t keep them.” The sternness of his eyes broke, and he actually laughed. “It’s quite evident after reading the warrant!” He held the offending document up and then tossed it into the fire.

I watched the white paper curl up and fall into grey ashes.

He said, “There, it’s all settled. And no silly business about offering me something in return! All is mine anyway. Which reminds me, we should hurry to the feast. I am the host after all, and you are my guest.” Smiling, he offered his arm. I couldn’t stop looking up at him as he led me through the quiet streets under the starlight.

How had I thought him ordinary?

Chelsea Barnwell is a writer, deep thinker, and avid reader. She finds joy in serving her community alongside gospel-minded followers of Jesus. She currently lives in a historic carriage house in the Blue Ridge Mountains. You can read more of her work on her blog welcometothecarriagehouse.com.

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