Life in Slake Patch

By Mandy Eve-Barnett

Page after page revealed a life unthinkable. Evan could not imagine the possibilities. Images of men and women with children sitting, eating, and playing together in strange dwellings, so different from their log structures. Some made of a smooth, consistently shaped stone of sorts, while others towered above ground with shiny, gleaming surfaces. There were no words to express the amazement. Surely, these pictures were the wild imaginings of a person possessed; they could not be true - especially compared to life in Slake Patch.

Evan’s first exposure to this inconceivable life was through a trusted friend and mentor, Jacob. Shared through the secretive exploration of banned books and creative storytelling, Evan internalized the great tales of fantasy. Life prior to the Grand War was lived differently. Change came to the world due to that drastic event thus calling for extreme measures. Wise old Jacob could see the Grand War as reason enough for society to evolve in a fundamental way.

Intrigued by the stories and burdened by the concepts he found to be desirable, Evan’s existence comes into question when he sees that maybe these unbelievable truths—things of the past—weren’t all that bad...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dream Write Publishing
• Release date: Oct 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781988723358

Mandy Eve-Barnett

About the author – Mandy is a fairly new Canadian resident, who has a wealth of experiences to draw from for her writing. She has lived in South Africa, England and Canada and the uniqueness of each continent has left its essence within her. An avid reader her whole life, it wasn’t until she joined a local writing group, the Writers Foundation of Strathcona County, that the writing ‘bug’ gripped her. Now Mandy Eve-Barnett writes with an all-encompassing passion and is deeply involved with the foundation and its members. Writing in various genres, Mandy is published in anthologies, on numerous web sites and in the local newspaper as well as regularly blogging about her writing journey. She has successfully completed two National Novel Writing Month challenges in 2009 and 2010 and the subsequent volume of work has resulted in two novels. In September 2011, she released her first kid's book "Rumble's First Scare."

Book preview

Jacob’s persistence to get me to look at an extraordinary book had gotten the better of my curiosity. He led the way down the steps into the old library basement. The building, its very structure of stone blocks was in stark contrast to our log buildings, stood as a relic of a world before the Grand War. Dust swirled in our wake, as visitors were few and far between. The lower archive rooms were strictly forbidden to the majority of the compound's inhabitants, apart from senior Councilors, who were allowed to peruse the ancient books and then only with express permission from the Supreme Council. Hence, the reason I again served as lookout for my dear old friend, Jacob. The glow of our lanterns illuminated numerous shelves of books all covered in layers of dust. Only a few had the telltale signs of handling. Jacob took me to a table where a large tome lay open. His yellowed eyes glittered with excitement as he showed me images that were difficult to comprehend. From that moment on, the pair of us became locked in a secret of knowledge.

Jacob turned the pages, his liver spotted hands shaking as he revealed picture after picture of a life unthinkable. My young eyes grew wider and wider upon seeing images of men and women with children sitting, eating, and playing in strange dwellings, so different from our log structures. Some made of a regularly shaped stone of sorts and others towering above ground with shiny surfaces. There were no words to express my amazement.

You see, Evan? Such strange lodgings built in lines and others on top of each other. These alone would be fascinating but when I saw the next few pictures I was amazed.

Surely, these pictures are the wild imaginings of a possessed person, Jacob.

Somewhat my thoughts at first, my young friend, but on closer inspection I have discovered this book was compiled as some sort of historic and societal recording.

But men and women living together, it’s…

Yes, inconceivable to our present way of life but obviously prior to the Grand War, life was lived differently.

Can such change have come about in three hundred years, do you think, Jacob?

It may seem difficult to your young beliefs, Evan, but some change can evolve slowly and others quite quickly. Drastic events can mean extreme measures are applied. Upon reflection, I can see The Grand War was reason enough to change society in such a fundamental way.

Jacob nudged my arm at my shocked disbelief, causing me to look at him with sudden realization.

You know we can’t show these to anyone, Jacob, it goes against all our teachings and laws. We would be banished at the very least – it is heresy.

I agree, Evan, we must put this book in our secret place. However, I will be returning to study the contents in more detail. It is too fascinating not to know more. This secret must stay between us though. As you say this knowledge could be dangerous in the wrong hands.

I will wrap the book in hessian and conceal it in the void above the door frame, Jacob.

My mind run multiple scenarios in a blurring set of images as I took hold of the book, my nerves shaking my hands matching those of Jacob's frail ones.

The void had become our secret hiding place for treasures we found on our clandestine expeditions into the depths of the library archives. Many a night I pulled my jacket closer to my neck and waited patiently to hear Jacob's plodding footsteps as he left the archive vault. I thanked the High Spirit, when my night watch ended, knowing I could go to my warm bunk, with a mind full of extraordinary tales and images relayed by Jacob. Once we had safely hidden the heavy tome, I remembered the hour.

Jacob, we really need to hurry. The midnight toll has rung already.

My old bones do not take kindly to the chilly air, Evan, hurrying is not an option.

Shall I carry you then?

Evan, do not jest with your elder.

I apologize. It was just a joke, Jacob, but we do need to keep to the shadows. There can be no excuse for our late wanderings and my bunk is calling me.

My discovery tonight has my mind spinning, Evan, I doubt sleep will claim me.

Jacob, we both know it’s not really possible for the sexes to live together. It must be a fantastical story of some sort. I thought we had always lived in separate compounds.

It is truly a remarkable volume filled with many details and images. Why would anyone go to such lengths to compile it, if it were not true?

It is a mystery I’m sure you will solve, Jacob, Teller of Tales. You are the wisest man I know. You are sure to figure it out in time.

Shortly after, we crept into our long house, striving as best we could not to wake our fellow residents. I was sure, like me, Jacob also pondered the night’s discovery for many an hour until sleep came amongst the soft snoring and murmurings of our bunkmates.

With the loss of his tryst, seven years previous and his son and daughter both tryst paired; Jacob had taken to whiling away his time rummaging through the bookshelves in the library for stories to read on Tale Night.

As the keeper of secrets, I served as lookout for my mentor, Jacob, on many occasions over the years. He knew I would keep my lips sealed. My reward was the thrill of listening to the wonderful stories he found and related as fiction to his captivated audiences. If they only knew the truth but as the hailed Chief Teller of Tales, a position he’d kept for a decade or more, his secret was safe with me.  Some thought our friendship strange, a young man spending time with someone who could easily be his father, but our common bond was discovering new things. For Jacob, it was more factual, but for me it was knowledge of anything beyond the boundaries of the compound. He’d recognized my deep curiosity early on and fuelled it many times over, during my initial months in Slake Patch and throughout my instruction in the ways of life in the male compound.

However, this last tale was something especially surprising but also dangerous to tell. Surely, it was a work of fiction. As we had looked at each other with the dusty tome between us, we had known this information must not be revealed but its importance as a historical item needed to be treasured. Who knew what other incredible information Jacob would undercover upon further investigation?

Chapter Two

A bright morning greeted me as I started my chores promptly, ensuring I would hopefully be at the Wednesday tale telling early. It was, and to some extent still is, one of my favourite activities. As I cleared away the breakfast debris with the rest of my crew, I pondered our way of life. It was so different from the views I had seen the night before in that ancient dusty book.

No one questioned the rules we lived by, which had been set down by prior generations. In male compounds the law stated First Borns, or Firsts were responsible for the clearing, plowing, planting and harvesting of the fields. Their duties included hunting and fishing as well as managing the livestock on the prairie. The Seconds, or subsequent male children born, if that was the wish of the Council, like me, worked their duties within the long houses and compounds. Taking care of the slaughtering and salting of the meat, meal preparation, cooking for all the residents, cleaning of the long houses, and collection and delivery of supplies for the central store. Considering how dirty and tired my father and brother always were upon their return at the end of the day, in my younger years I was glad to be a Second and assigned the compound chores. With my assigned duties, at least in the winter months, I was mainly in the long houses of the Patch and not out in the bitter cold and unforgiving snowstorms. They struggled in maintaining the water mill, herding and feeding the livestock on the prairie or in their covered barns. The prairie winters were harsh and without constant care, our animals could have easily perished. A holler broke my reminiscing.

Hey, Evan! Hurry up. We need to go to the store. We don’t have long before the end of our allotted time.

Give me a minute, Greg.

Finishing my task, I soon joined Greg on the wagon. Ideas of what life would have been like in a mixed family went through my mind as we traveled toward the store. Men and women living together, how would that work? Our sexes are so different. What would day-to-day life have been like?

Greg drove the wagon faster than usual as we headed for the food store. If we missed our allotted time and came across any women, we would be in real trouble for the encounter but also there would be very little to cook for the Firsts’ dinner, which would end in angry confrontations. We made the store with only thirty minutes left of our given time so hurried in to collect meat, vegetables, and sweet preserves.

The store was a group of buildings each with a particular structure for the preservation of the items it contained. Such as the grain store raised on stone pillars to prevent vermin from getting in and to maintain a constant airflow, thus keeping the grain dry. I entered the central long house and walked along the many rows of three high shelves containing numerous jars of preserves, dried, and pickled goods. It was my favourite part of the store with its huge variety of choice. I'd come to know the best prepared fruits by trial and error and by then knew the little lilac labeled jars were the sweetest. As we departed, we both saw a female’s wagon heading toward the store so quickened our horses’ pace. Until formal introductions were made, communication with females without proper chaperoning was strictly forbidden, unless, of course, it was your mother, sister or your brother’s pairing when visiting the female compounds.

To my surprise and delight, my father informed me several weeks prior that my mother had arranged my introductions for the upcoming July Gatherings. My good friend, Greg knew he would be having his introductions at the June Gatherings. Both of us were excited but nervous.

As per tradition, our mothers arranged all the introductions not only due to their knowledge of the young girls and their parentage but their authority as Supreme Council members. I was nervous but excited about my pairing. My trusted friend, Jacob, helped a lot with his wisdom, advice, and stories of his own experiences of pairings over many years. Although, it must be said, I was rather skeptical at Jacob’s assurances that my mother would pick the right woman for me. Greg’s voice broke into my thoughts.

What are you thinking about, Evan? You’re in a dream there.

I’m thinking about my tryst meeting in July. Jacob keeps telling me not to worry but I am nervous about it. How are you feeling? Your meetings are sooner than mine.

Don’t remind me, Evan, I’m having difficulty sleeping even now.

I’ll be there for support, you know that don’t you?

Of course, I do. Thanks. I’ll need a friend to prop me up no doubt.

Greg pulled at the reins and drove the horses and wagon under the wooden sign hanging high above the entrance where our compound’s identification could be clearly seen - two male symbols burnt into a large wooden panel on either side of the name Slake. This was our Patch, our home.

As we entered the central yard, the Council house, which doubled as the Tale house, was nearest the entrance on our right. Greg steered the horses in the direction of the food store beside the galley. As we passed the partly opened door to the galley, I called out.

Ted, George, come and help unload, will you?

We’re coming, you impatient oaf.

I swung ‘round in my seat to face Ted as he sauntered towards the wagon.

Watch it. I’ve beaten you in the ring before.

I’ve been training hard, Evan, next time I’ll win.

Stop it, you two; get this wagon unloaded. We haven’t got all day.

Ted punched my arm and quickly fled to pick up a sack of grain. I swung toward him but Greg's hand pulled me back. He shook his head slowly and smirked.

You don't need to prove your superior skills just at the moment, Evan. Come on, we have tasks to complete.

I shrugged and swung down from the wagon's bench seat to pick up a couple sacks of grain. I can show my strength with two sacks as easily as a bout in the ring with Ted. As I walked into the store, Ted sidestepped out of the way.

Once the wagon was empty, Greg and I drove past the brew house and laundry to the stables. Greg unhitched the horses and we pushed the wagon into its allotted space and then led the horses into their stables. Once they were unharnessed, we brushed them down and gave them fresh hay and water.

With the wagon stored and the horses stabled, we walked back across the compound and entered the galley to start the evening meal. Ted, George, and Jon were stoking the wood-fueled ovens and setting pans of water on to boil. The heat built as we worked together with food preparation. Each man had his own particular skill, and as a unit, we were practiced and efficient. I had worked with these friends for nearly fourteen months. The Council allowed us to stay assigned to kitchen duties over the usual one-year term because we were such a good team but in the spring our assignments would change, and we would work with other Seconds.

The supper bell sounded two hours later, its clanging sound carried far over the flat prairie. Soon after, the approaching sound of horse’s hooves pounding on dry earth replaced the bell's toll in the half-light of early evening. While their horses were led to the stables by other Seconds, who wiped them down, watered and fed the animals, the dirty, grubby Firsts, smelling of sweat and grimy with dirt, filed into the eat house, which was an extension to the galley, filled with rows of long tables and benches. As the men arrived, they rinsed their hands at the entrance sink and lined up, plates in hand and waited for service of their meals. It was not just their tired faces I noticed but their hands, rough, scarred, and ingrained with dirt in the knuckles and underneath their fingernails. Many accepted the provisions with lackluster grunts or a nod of their head, nothing more. Older Firsts congregated together on the far side of the eat house, sitting heavily on the benches and eating mostly in silence. Younger Firsts, such as my brother, Joshua, gathered in packs sharing tables with friends, talking, joking, and eating in a hurried manner to claim possible second helpings.

The speed at which service finished and the food consumed after so many hours of preparation and cooking did tend to surprise me. My crew and I ate quickly while sitting on short stools behind the long service tables, while other Seconds sat on benches at the far end of the eat-house. Once everyone finished their meals, they placed their plates at one end of the service table and filed back out and toward their bunk cabins. My crew would then begin cleaning pans, dishes, plates, and tables. With practiced ease, we concentrated on our specific task to ensure the galley was clean and tidy in the shortest time possible. None of us wanted to miss the evening’s entertainment so my kitchen crew was always trying to find ways of clearing up faster, so we could get front row seats.

There was comfort in the structure of our days, knowing your place in the Patch was a worthy one. Be you a First born or a Second, whether you were born second or subsequently, your role was set and accepted.

Chapter Three

The evening after Jacob's discovery just happened to be a Wednesday, or as it was more traditionally known, Tale night. Listening to the tales was a thrill to us all and Jacob always had something special as befitted his position as Chief Teller of Tales. Walking with my galley crew toward the log house, I spotted Jacob as he entered the doorway with a bundle of hessian under his arm. My stomach cramped in panic, an irrational thought flooding my mind. Does he mean to read the mixed family story? It would mean immediate banishment for such heresy. Is the old man losing his mind? Does he think he could get away with revealing such fantastical information? Quickening my pace, I managed to catch up with him as he mounted the steps to the platform inside the building. I whispered urgently as close to his ear as I could.

Jacob, what are you going to read tonight?

His calm eyes met my wide-eyed apprehensive ones, reassuring me with a pat of his hand on my shoulder.

Not to worry, Evan. Our secret is safe, but I can tell you tonight’s story will be thrilling, none the less.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips. Jacob chuckled and proceeded to the platform’s grand carved seat. Placing the hessian bundle beside him, he sat down to wait for his audience to settle.  As always, Jacob had a full house and it took some time for silence to fall over the crowded room. When he was happy he had everyone’s complete attention he began his tale. Soon the assembled crowd was spellbound by the world he created. That particular story described a world inhabited by strange giant creatures that were as tall as the tallest tree in the forest and as long as the compound was wide. Jacob described some of them as having thick hides and huge horns - not only on their heads like cattle but along their bodies, while others possessed lengthened necks and some were described as being giant fish-like creatures. Jacob told us during that time there were no men or women on the planet so the creatures ruled the prairies and forests. He relayed how the beasts preyed on each other for thousands of years with no human hunters to exploit them but how in an instant an enormous falling star killed them all. Although Jacob spoke for over two hours, it seemed his account was finished all too quickly. The audience’s vigorous applause continued as Jacob collected his bundle and took a bow.

I stood at the base of the steps to help him down and we walked to our long house together in companionable silence enjoying the relative warmth of that March evening. Although I would not admit it to anyone, I felt closer to Jacob than to my own father at that time. Even though we were decades apart in age, our friendship was solid.

When we entered our long bunkhouse, we heard other Seconds talking and laughing, as they sat around the main fireplace.

Go and spend some time with the others, Evan. I’m too tired to stay awake talking tonight.

Then sleep well, my friend.

Jacob turned to his bunk as I walked over to the group gathered around the fire, joining in the revelry of other young men. It was not until later I remembered how tired and frail Jacob looked that night.

Chapter Four

There was only the promise of a distance glow of sunrise as I awoke and made my way to the galley. The kitchen crew rose at five o’clock to ensure breakfast was ready for the Firsts before they went onto the prairie for the day. We served eggs, thick slices of cured ham, and freshly baked rolls. As the men consumed the food, the Chief Firsts for each group called out instructions for their day's tasks. Thursday was one of the washdays, so after clearing the galley, my crew assembled in the laundry house to start the day’s work. Washing and drying over three hundred men’s dirty clothes was a laborious duty but it did have its bonuses – it showed in my well-formed physique. The carrying of large wicker baskets from each bunkhouse to the laundry and back again built stamina and toned my muscles – a real bonus in the wrestling ring.

Each bunkhouse had its own coloured wicker baskets and each item of clothing a coloured tag and name label, so we could identify which house and resident they belonged, enabling us to keep them separated.

I entered the laundry to the familiar sound of heavy hoof beats. At the rear of the building were six oxen harnessed to a tread wheel. The motion moved a system of pulleys by way of thick ropes, high in the ceiling. Through a series of cogs, the ropes turned large wooden struts with paddles on the end. These paddles were submerged in large vats of soapy water that twisted the clothes back and forth. Situated between the laundry and the brewery house, a furnace heated the water in large tanks. Built using a plan found amongst the books in the library ten years previous, the machine-made laundry duty a much faster and more frequent process.

As I hauled the thick ropes, the lye soap aroma reminded me of watching my mother and sister make it. They mixed the lye with melted lard and water and then boiled it. I can recall running out of the cabin shouting.

That smells so disgusting, Mother. Why do you make it?

That may be, my boy, but without it you would be blacker than mud.

Later, when the mixture thickened, we poured the glutinous substance into shallow pans and left it to set. Once it hardened, I would help cut it into blocks. It was not a favourite chore but once the blocks were completed, Mother allowed me to deliver some to her neighbours. It gave me the opportunity to play ‘seek and hide’ with other boys in the compound, an enjoyable diversion from chores.

Jacob relayed how he would spend hours scrubbing and bashing clothes with rocks in the river as a young Second before the building of the laundry machine and how men would wear their clothes until the smell was too much even for them to bear. Washing was limited to the months of the year the river was clear of ice and Jacob told me it was all the men could do to sit next to someone. The stench within the long houses had many men risking the bitter winter cold just for relief from it. As a chore, only possible in the warmer months of the year, it made winter not only a cold and miserable time but also a smelly affair for the Patch inhabitants.

With my day filled with washing each batch of clothes, then hanging them up to dry after we fed them through the huge wringers, I did not ponder the strange images seen a couple nights before. Ted challenged me to a lifting contest and we held fully loaded baskets of wet clothes over our heads until Ted conceded and put his down first.

You need to work on your strength, Ted. At this rate I will beat you in the wrestling ring yet again.

Oh, I will be practicing, don't you worry, Evan. It's time you were beaten in a challenge.

Well, you keep thinking that and I'll keep taking the trophies.

Once our challenge was over, my crew took the dry clothes from the previous Thursday’s washday back to the appropriate long house. The system worked well as we used the heat from the brew house, situated next to the laundry to blow hot air through large bellows over the wet clothes in the winter months. The aroma of roasting grain permeated the air and, in turn, the fabric of our clothes.

As I loaded the baskets with dry laundry, I wondered whom I would be working with on my next assignment. An announcement for our new duties would be made at the Council House meeting that very evening. I hoped to get stable duty next time around. Although it was hard work, you got to ride the horses for a few hours each day and could explore a small part of the prairie outside the compound’s fences. I dreamt of the thrill to ride in the spring air and even the opportunity to spy on the Tollst Patch. I had heard there were little men living in Tollst and I was curious to find out if it were true. My brother, Joshua, told me he had seen these tiny men while working in the adjoining fields. As a First, he had more freedom to roam but he was also very good at teasing me, so I really did not know if he was telling the truth or not.

At the end of my

Reviews for Life in Slake Patch

[Davide B · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The book is what the title says: an overview of life in Slake Patch. Not much of a life, and in the end, it is only what the women who rule decides it will be. The book itself is mildly entertaining, but too much minutia. Could use more character development. The main characters aren't very admirable in any way.