Clarissa

Howdy, my name’s Clarissa. I’m Ma and Pa’s favourite. The representative of the three pronged trinity - truth, justice, redemption. They keep me clean, shiny and sharp. Just like the day they bought me. I know my Ma and Pa are the righteous ones, yes siree. Every Sunday they go to church without fail. Their clothes may be worn, but nothing is ever out of place. They don’t whoop and holler, not like some of their far flung neighbours. They utter their prayers under their breaths. The Lord likes it that way. He can tell who’s the most deserving. He’s not deaf.

I got a couple of brothers, but they don’t scar as good as me. They know their place and I know mine. That’s what Ma and Pa say. It’s a shame other folks don’t act this way too. You know, like the ones passing through, who think they got the right to stare at my Ma and Pa. I don’t like it one bit.

But the worse kind, are those sneaky property prospectors claiming to be the lost. Knocking so hard on our door when Ma’s in the middle of her daily chores, making it shudder. Pa’s out back, the pigs all the company he needs, breaking his back with one of my brothers. Scraping and digging, digging and scraping until the soil's just right.

They think Ma’s house is quaint. Looks like it’s outta some old movie. Beady eyes scanning and calculating. Ma says nothing. Silence is her weapon, learnt that long ago. She enjoys it when they start to get twitchy, giggle to themselves. A thin film of sweat on their greedy brows.

Clarissa

“My it’s hot,” they say to excuse themselves, to suffocate the silence.

“Nice brooch, Ma’am,” they say. “Real antique looking.”

Ma nods.

A shaky hand reaches for a map, as they apologise for taking a wrong turn.

Ma nods again. “My husband’s out back. Why don’t you come in? I’m sure he can help you figure it out. Sit yourself down at the table Son,” she says. “Have a glass of my homemade lemonade.” Ma does polite so well. I see them cast a dismissive eye my way. I watch them sip, sip, a yawn.

Pa appears. Benevolence shines behind his clear round glasses.

The stranger smiles. I see the edges of their mouth fighting not to laugh.

“How can I help you Son?” he asks, a soft, mesmerizing voice.

“I’ve lost my way Sir. I wondered if you could give me some directions.”

Pa nods, places a gentle hand on his shoulder. Senses what type of man he’s dealing with.

“Of course Son. Let me show you the way.”

The visitor stands up a little unsteady on his feet. As Pa passes by he picks me up in his familiar grip. Time for the three pronged trinity to leave its mark.