Short Story: Will the Lesson Be Learned?

She had been here before, though she did not remember it well. All that was left here was a rickety wooden platform, fading and discolored from the wind and rain. In her mind's eye, she saw people on that platform, as the herald read from his long list of names. She heard the shouts from the crowd that scared her, then the soothing voice of her mother and the weight of a sticky sweet in her hand. A distraction for the event to come...

"Eyes front! Pay attention!"

She snapped out of the dream (or was it a memory? She wasn't very sure anymore.). The hushed voices of her schoolmates buzzed all around her, then they all fell silent. The cold wind blew through their heavy woolen coats. She reached up to make sure her hood didn't fly back and reveal her secret.

"Traitor's Crossing," the schoolmistress intoned. Her icy eyes fell on every student and commanded their attention. "A gallows used to stand here, at the crossroads,...as you can see, it's no longer in use, as corporeal punishment was banned by the king fifty years ago. Now the realm treats its prisoners with due respect, even if it isn't earned or warranted..." 

She shifted from foot to foot.Yes, she remembered those days, long ago. Ten years passed for every one she aged, that was the privilege of Fae blood. She looked like a child, but her mind and experience far surpassed this ignorant schoolmistress. Yet appearances had to be kept and mortal life had to be experienced to be believed.

At least, that was what her real teacher proclaimed. Privately, she believed the most kindly of Fae were as naively blind as the stupidest of mortals. Her Human heritage made her perfect for this kind of social assignment, but it didn't mean she had to like it.

Something stirred under her hood, then she heard the indignant voice of her familiar. She smiled, despite herself. At least she wasn't alone in this farce. "So barbaric, your people," the fairy complained in her ear.

"That was a long time ago, Kix. They don't do that anymore. They're kinder and more humane now." She referred to Mortals as 'they' and not 'we'. Her association was purely by accident.

Kix bristled. "Not that. The fact they bring young ones here."

"What do you mean? Mortal life can get bloody messy, and you might as well learn that lesson when you're young. I remember my mother taking me to these events, and they sold candy as the hangman worked. It might be barbaric, but it made an impression. You didn't want to end up on the scaffold."

"It's a deterrent for sure, but look around at your 'schoolmates'. Do you think they'll learn the same lesson? You're right; they don't do this anymore. None of them will see the things you saw. It's just a footnote to them, something from a bygone time." Kix shrugged. "They see a relic, hear the facts, but they don't learn anything."

"History repeats, and all that?"

"Exactly. Glossing over the ugly doesn't help anyone. They'll believe it wasn't that bad and do it again."

She shrugged again. That was the difference between Mortals and Fae. The Fae had long memories and never forgot the smallest slight or the tiniest insult. Mortals forgot lessons and repeated them over and over again. Sometimes they learned from their mistakes. It might take them eons, but it was possible. 

As she looked around at her schoolmates' bored faces, she wondered if Kix was right and that this was all useless. Most Fae didn't think Mortals had that capacity, but some did, and her teachers wanted her to see that fact. Perhaps that was why they gave her these kinds of assignments, to keep her humble and open-minded. Her mother's people were barbaric in some ways, but then again, so were the cruelest of Fae.

The wind blew again, and this time, she thought she saw the thinnest silver of a rope dancing on the scaffold, behind the forbidding bulk of the schoolmistress. If history did choose to repeat, she hoped the outcome would be different. 

But she still had her doubts.