By: Sylwia Mlynarski
St. Joan of Arc Catholic High School

Henry sat in the clear rocky river in nothing but a pair of white underwear and his father’s old brown slippers, ignoring the fact that they were much too big for him. The dying sun burned the darkening skin of his back as he attempted to catch the group of tadpoles squirming on top of one another. Squinting his deep, brown eyes and silent with concentration he placed his soft fingers in the cool water, carefully pushing them toward the pack of young creatures. Centimetres away from the success of his plan to catch some, a gentle force tipped him from his crouched position, landing half his body into the river. Henry looked up in disapproval as his younger sister Marie, giggled at the fall. Her freckled face and messy dark hair were framed by the vibrant hues of orange, purple, and red displayed in the late afternoon sky.

“Let’s go home.” Her voice broke the silence of the river’s surroundings. Henry could have played with the tadpoles for another hour or so, but the sudden rumbling in his stomach made up his mind.

“Only if we race.” He said, jumping up. Marie nodded in agreement and a shifty smile formed on Henry’s face. He pushed his sister into the water where he once lay and began to run. A twinge of guilt rushed through him when he looked back and saw the poor girl wading out of the water in her wet dress- her favourite dress. But, his competitive spirit was reborn once she called out, “that’s unfair, Henry, you’re a dirty cheater!”

Henry ran as fast as he could all the way back to the small farmhouse in which the family called home. He jumped over all the small shrubs and hit the lowest tree branches. Sometimes, he tripped over a hole in the broken dirt path and occasionally he glanced back at his exhausted sister eagerly trying to catch up with him. On the way, he lost both his father’s slippers and did not notice. Marie had no shoes on, which meant both children would be yelled at for coming home with filthy scratched feet.

Henry reached the family’s property several seconds before Marie, and the sight straight up ahead froze him in his spot. A band of gypsies were setting up camp just a few metres away from his home. They were unloading their lives at the edge of the small farm’s lot; the area where the dirt path meant the paved main road. His heart raced, as he stood unsure of what to do. The tales he heard about the gypsies were unpleasant, the things horror stories were made of. He heard tales in which gypsies lured and kidnapped children and their beloved possessions. Despite, the nervous feelings infiltrating his entire body, he felt a rush of excitement. While he knew his parents had experiences with the dark-skinned Nomads, he was sure none of the schoolchildren did. All his friends would be interested in the adventure as they spoke of the Roma people on a regular basis.

Lost in his wonder, Henry did not hear Marie’s out of breath approach. She stood, panting beside him, ignorant to the newcomers by the side of the road.

“You…cheated.” Marie whispered, in between gasps of air, but said no more when she noticed where Henry’s intense gaze was directed. The five-year-old girl stood silently with her older brother. The air was as still as the two children. The clanking of metal pots twenty meters away as the only sound. They could smell dinner cooking, but the idea of mashed potatoes and gravy was no longer appetizing.

A young gypsy lady, dressed in tattered gray garments, noticed Henry and Marie watching as she ignited a fire. She arose and smiled toward them. This small gesture frightened Marie, knowing she had been caught looking at the foreigners. She tugged on her brother’s arm to signify that she wanted to go inside; she wanted them both to go inside. But, Henry released his arm from her grasp, without a glance toward her.

“Please, Henry. Let’s go inside. You know what Mama said.” Her voice became more pleading with every word. “Henry, you know what Mama said. About the gypsies. Henry, please.”

Henry’s eyes were fixated on the young lady staring right back at him. Marie understood her begging was futile. She ran inside, slamming the wooden door behind her. The powerful noise thundered in Henry’s ears and for the first time he noticed his surroundings. The remains of the day lingered in the fading shades of light on the sky, but the night had taken over. The shadows from the fire made the gypsies presence larger. Although they sat at the end of the lot, the gypsies dominated the entire farm.

There were eight of them. An elderly man and an elderly woman, the young lady that smiled at him and two young men that looked her age. There were two children, and finally, a baby that was nestled in one of the young men’s arms. They all seemed to be watching Henry. The elderly man’s white hair contrasted his dark skin. He swayed his frail hand in an attempt to call Henry over. In a moment of hesitation, he wished he weren’t alone. He wished Marie was still by his side. Not knowing whether to believe the stories he once heard, his legs took over and began to move toward the camp. His judgement disappeared and the horror stories escaped to the back of his mind. Henry looked back at his home. Marie and Richard, the eldest sibling, stepped outside. Neither tried to come after him, but were bewildered by their brother’s actions.

Henry approached the camp and began to second-guess his decision to wander away from the safety and comfort of home. Mom and dad’s words of warning crept back into his mind. These gypsies were dirty. They were scum; they were no good, lazy thieves. The waves of parental accusations crashed on to him as he began to believe them with a new truth. Panic was blatantly displayed in his eyes, but the gypsies remained calm. Finally, the elderly man kneeled in front of him- they were eye level. His brown eyes were set deep into his wrinkled and torn skin. Sadness over years of persecution and hard times glimmered in them. The bones in his face jutted out and made him look sharp and sickly. When he smiled, Henry could see the four or five brown and gold teeth arranged in his mouth. The elderly man represented his entire family. He spoke.

“Hello, boy. You live in that house over there?”

But Henry did not hear the question. No, he did not hear elderly man at all. He heard the malicious and hostile stories passed on from generation to generation. The stories thought for him. They allowed his personal experience to be shoved aside in order to accommodate old world prejudice. And Henry became victim to them. He let out a choked sound neither he nor the old man could understand. Henry could feel the whole gypsy camp watching him. He expected them to be puzzled but the incoherent response, but they accepted it as “the usual”. Frightened, he spun around and sprinted back home, with tears in his eyes. Before he opened the wooden side door to the house, he glanced back to where he once stood. The family was cooking, unfazed by Henry’s fearful response. Richard and Marie were the only witnesses to the ordeal. They proceeded to follow him inside and up to the room the three of them shared.

Henry leaned against the bed and sobbed into his arm. His head pounded from the moment’s event. Richard and Marie lay on the bed above, watching him. It was hard for them to see their unstoppable brother defeated. None of them spoke for awhile until Henry stopped crying. He sighed heavily to signify he was finished.

“How long d you think they’re going to stay?” Marie asked, referring to the gypsies.

“I don’t know.” Richard responded when henry did not say a word. That was the last they spoke of the occurrence. After another moment of silence, they heard the call of their mother’s familiar voice. Dinner was ready. The three of them were exhausted and didn’t have much of an appetite, but went out of courtesy. As they ate their meals, they fought the urge to peak outside and see what the new family was doing. They were mentioned once at the table, but the comments went unnoticed. The day still lingered in their minds late after, and they all thought different things about the same event. Henry thought about the man’s sunken eyes and how he looked right into them. An image henry would keep with him well into his life.

© Copyright 2008