Sleepless Jean

At the edge of one of the deep forests of medieval France lived a struggling family of six: one daughter, three sons and their parents.

Father farmed and mother did everything else, including making clothing for her children and others in the nearby village.

Jean was the youngest son. One morning, his mother shook him awake in his place on the floor, telling him to watch his little sister, the youngest of his siblings. The rest of the family was heading off to market. The ten-year-old nodded assent. But as soon as he heard the front door creak shut, he immediately fell back asleep. He was hunting a rabbit in a dream and he wanted that dream to have a happy, bloody ending.

When he awoke, the front door was wide open. His sister was nowhere to be found in the small dwelling made of rough fieldstone, nor was she amid the crops or in the nearby fields where she liked to pick pretty wildflowers to make bouquets for her mother. He ran about these fields, madly calling her name, but nothing answered him except ravens. The sun was bright. The poppies tossed their heads on a breeze. And Jean thought of wolves. But it is day, he told himself. She must be safe.

He returned to the house and grabbed his father’s largest knife and headed off into the woods. It was soon dark under those trees which were much older than any living human being. He called and called. Sometimes something shadowy would race off below the undergrowth, too fast to be seen, and Jean would shiver.