The Tale of Mary Amali

Mary didn’t know how long she had been rotting away in that cell, but she knew it’d been too long by how wide her belly had grown. Lying on the hard floor with nothing but a cloth to keep her warm in that drafty cell made growing life more grueling than it should’ve been. 

She spent many nights scraping a pebble she found in the corner into the ground until one night it had a sharp, pointed edge. The desire to run it along her wrist was strong. She wanted to be done with it all, but she held onto hope for the babies growing in her. Her mama promised she’d live a life of comfort, and despite everything, she still believed in that vision.

Her mama had promised Master Putnam would always look after her. He even promised this to mama—she heard him with her own two ears. The memory of mama and Master Putnam played through her mind more frequently than she wanted.

“She’s your blood, Nat. Promise you’ll do right by her,” mama croaked out.

“I will, Mary,” Nathaniel said to mama.

She stood outside their quarters, listening as her mama took her last breaths while Master Putnam lied through his teeth. She had yet to live that life of comfort he promised her mama. 

It wasn’t long after her mama was in the ground that her Menses started. Others around told her to keep it hidden as long as possible, but she didn’t understand the severity of that warning. Soon, Nathaniel called her Mary and spent his nights in her quarters. He instructed everyone else to call her Mary, too, and soon she forgot the name her mama gave her at birth. 

 Mary spent the nights Nathaniel visited wondering if her mama was actually named Mary. She’d zone out and imagine herself across the sea running through the tall weeds with those mama spoke about. She spun tall tales about them being from a tribe where the women were honored. The Goddess Dunia blessed them with gifts that helped them survive the wild lands. By the time Nathaniel was fixing his clothes and leaving out the front door, Mary had imagined all kinds of adventures running free with her people.

“What gifts do you have?” Nathaniel asked before leaving one night.

“I-I don’t know what you mean, Master,” Mary answered.

Mary knew what he meant, but she didn’t realize he knew. Mama always told her to keep the knowledge of her blessing close to her heart.

“Call me Nat, Mary.” Nathaniel turned from the door and faced Mary. He offered an eerie grin before leaving. The floorboards creaked louder than usual as Mary held her breath, waiting for him to leave. 

The drip-drop of water leaking from the cracked lime mortar brought her back to the present. Some nights it served as a rhythmic distraction from the gloom of the cell Mary was in. Other nights the cadence reminded her of the cot squeaking on the nights Nathaniel visited her in her cabin. She hated how the cold of the cell made her body crave his warmth.

Anger had been what kept her warm the first few nights in the cell. She couldn’t believe the Putnams would leave her there to rot after she and her mother brought wealth to their name. They wouldn’t be the leaders of that wretched village had they not used their blessings on them. After a week in the cold cell, her anger transitioned into fear. When weeks passed and her Menses didn’t start, her fear turned to desperation.

She prayed to Dunia every night for a miracle. She came to her in her dreams for the first time and revealed she’d be having twins. That was all she told her. 

By the time the twins were fighting for perch, Nathaniel started his nightly visits again. You’d think Mary wasn’t pregnant with his children in a cell by how easygoing he was during the visits. Plus, he refused to even look at her growing belly.

Mary sat up when she heard the bars clanging. She expected Nathaniel to walk in, but he didn’t. They pulled her out of the cell and guided her out of the prison, where she was handed off to Nathaniel. The two walked down the poorly lit path toward his house.

“I’m glad to have you back home, Mary,” Nathaniel said.

It was the last thing Mary heard from him. She darted into the woods. Mary refused to go back to being his disposable pawn. She held the bottom of her stomach as she ran as fast as she could. Her stomach started to cramp, but she wouldn’t stop moving. In no time, there were shouts and distant growls from bloodthirsty hounds from where she had run. 

Her foot hit a rock, and she tumbled forward. Her hands planted into the dirt beneath her, stopping her stomach from colliding with the ground. Every emotion surfaced, and she belted out “Dunia!” Desperation, rage, and a deep desire to survive burned through her mind. She pleaded to Dunia, begging for a safe place. 

The hounds grew closer, but Mary refused to break. She pushed all her intention into summoning Dunia. She demanded her presence. There was no other option. She’d meet Dunia one way or the other, even if it were in death.

Suddenly, Mary felt reinvigorated. Blue streams of light flooded into her fingertips from the dirt. A warming sensation passed from her hands through her entire body. The twins in her belly kicked as if they were trying to escape. Mary yelled at the intensity of it. When the pain faded, she stopped yelling and could only hear the sound of crickets. A hand reached forward and lifted her off the ground. 

“What should I call you?” Dunia asked.

Mary was nearly blinded by how bright Dunia glowed. Her dark skin radiated the sun's warmth. Her presence was so vast it was suffocating. Her energy felt like everything you loved and hated. She was everything and nothing at all. 

“Amali,” Mary answered without thought. 

“Ahhh… Hope.” Dunia responded.

A memory of Mary’s mom chanting “Amali Amali Amali” resurfaced. “Never lose Hope,” her mom would say.

“The Realm of Amali,” Dunia announced.

Mary followed where the goddess gestured and noticed the space around them was more alive than it was a minute ago. Fireflies lit the space around them. The dead leaves on the trees were now vibrant green, and the stream of water cascading in the distance had a glowing blue hue.

The goddess began speaking again, but it was hard for Mary to focus on what Dunia was explaining when a contraction started.

“You must teach this prophecy to your children, or all will be lost. Do you understand?” the goddess asked.

Mary nodded in agreement. Another contraction came on, and she closed her eyes to brace for the pain. When she opened them again, Dunia was gone. Soon after, Mary Amali became a mother to two.