“Let’s recite the law of Lignum Sedes,”

“By one we die

By two, we live

All connected in this village to give

Give work, give heart

And most of all

Never depart!”

“Well done! You are all dismissed!” The instructor announced loudly against the sound of chairs dragging through the dirt floor of the school. “Remember to report to the town council in two days to receive your assignments.  Good luck!”  Malcolm was amongst the first of the graduates to leave the classroom.  Man, I hate that song!

 His was a short walk, and really so was everyone else’s. The village was not big.  He passed the wooden shops of the baker, the fishmonger, and the farmer, all about to close for the day.  I hope I won’t end up in one of these god-awful shops!  Malcolm thought to himself as he kept his head down and made his way home.

Malcolm reached the old rickety wooden door to their small living “shed,” as he called it.  His nose was immediately assaulted by the leftover cabbage stew that had been simmering on their wood stove since the weekend, two days before.   His family had been assigned one of the lowest ranking cottages, lowest ranking, meaning smallest.  The main floor room consisted of a hay floor covering, a stone hearth to keep warm at, and a table and chairs.  The only thing that they had of worth, was a large wooden corner cabinet that stood a few feet away from the woodstove.  It was filled with keepsakes from his mother’s past, most of them being his father’s personal effects.  Malcolm had always loved looking at that cabinet full of things linked to his dad, who he hadn’t seen in over eight years.  There was a weighty ball with forest and reindeer that filled with snow.  There was a stand-up clock that didn’t work and a very ancient-looking compass. At the back of the cabinet was a rectangular plastic box that his mother had called a radio.

  “Malcolm!  Oh, good, you’re home!  You can help me finish up the laundry deliveries!  How was your last day?”

“Oh, Ma, it was just as boring as every other day….”

“That’s nice, dear,” she said as she dropped a twenty-pound pile of someone else’s clothes on him.  “Now be a good dear and iron those out for me.  The table is already set up in the corner.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes, not looking forward to the mountain of work that had just literally been thrust upon him.  He fumbled his way to the hearth where the hot iron was sitting and began his assigned work.

“You know, Malcolm, you shouldn’t be so grumpy all the time! Cheer up! The day after tomorrow is assignment day! You’ll finally know your place in the village!  And…”

“Ma, I just feel like I’m wasting my life here.” There was nothing in the village that he wanted to do. He had always felt like that.

“Less moping and more ironing, yeah?”

Case in point.

Malcolm tossed and turned on his shallow and uncomfortable straw mattress. For hours, he stared up at the wooden rafters and wondered where they would put him.  What position in the village could possibly pose enough excitement for a lifetime? Why did they have to make people stay in one job their whole life?  Why can’t anyone leave?  Dread and a general feeling of hopelessness made it all but impossible to fall asleep.  As the night sky revealed tiny shafts of color and light, Malcolm imagined himself playing the role of almost every job in the village.  And he hated them all.

Malcolm slipped on his old and faded blue school pants and buttoned up his off-white shirt.  This was the best he could do.  Malcolm leaped down from the loft with his old leather bag strapped around his shoulders.  He opened the door to the cabinet and very carefully removed the ancient compass.  He wiped the dust from its face, revealing a beautiful copper casing, handmade notches, and an arrow made of tin pointing due north.  It still worked.  Malcolm placed the compass in his pants pocket and headed towards the door.  He felt a sense of relief having a piece of the past with him today as he was told what his future would bring.

“Good luck, son!” Diana waved goodbye to him from the door.

“Thanks, Ma!”

            She was really the only thing he liked about this stupid crowded wood-chipped village!  Malcolm walked down the narrow street outside of his house and then stepped out onto the village’s main road where most of the shops were.  He walked past the bakery, fishmonger, and the farmer’s stale, taking in the wonderful smells of the freshly baked morning bread, the sea salt applied to the fish, and the summer berries newly picked by the farmer.  The smells were tormenting him to the point that his feet changed their trajectory.  He had to make a stop.

Ding! Ding! The door widened, and the baker came out from the back of the bakery with a very red face.  Baking was hard work!

“Ah, Malcolm!  Let me check if your family has any credits….” Damn credits! I wish I could just buy stuff without being hassled. The town council felt the need to control and restrict every aspect of life right down to how many credits each family could have, what they ate, how they ate it, and when. 

“You’re in luck, Malcolm; your family has one extra credit for today, so what would you like?” Lucky, indeed! Malcolm thought as he ordered a freshly baked chocolate croissant.

Malcolm hurried down the street, past the pub to the town council building. He was almost late, which was an absolute sin in the village, just like eating in public was a sin. councillors banned it because people started to want other people’s food, making them go to the food shops more.  And with such a short supply of food and barely any credit allotted to the poor and middling folk, no one could buy food just for the simple reason of enjoyment and pleasure.  So, Malcolm devoured his precious chocolate croissant and opened the door to the town council building.  His future awaited him!

Malcolm hadn’t been in this building since his first year of life training.  He forgot how high the ceilings were and how the light danced off the beautifully framed windows.  The wonderful smell of a roast chicken. I mean who cooks a roast chicken at 9 in the morning? He knew the smell was coming from the direction of the kitchen that was for the express use of the council members.  An unexplained privilege!

“Sir!” A tall, austere-looking man nudged him from his trance.

“Oh yes, sorry I….”

“Right this way, sir” He guided him down the hall and opened two large dark green doors.  Light, color, and warmth beamed from the room.  It was an immense ballroom where the council meetings were generally held.  But instead of very old boring people, Malcolm saw all his classmates standing around talking excitedly about the positions they’d hoped to get during the ceremony today. What a boring lot of shiftless…

“Malcolm!”  A female voice yelled from across the room. It was his only friend in the world, Roslynn.  Malcolm smiled and pushed his way through the crowd to get to her. Just as he was about to reach her, the town council music began, and the very old and boring men and women of the council emerged from behind a curtain.  The man who had interrupted him in the hallway also appeared and stepped towards the gathering crowd. 

“Is height a prerequisite to be a member of the town council?” Malcolm whispered his silly question to Roslynn.  She laughed out loud, too loud, and was immediately hushed.

Roslynn punched him directly in the stomach in jest. “Always getting me in trouble, friend!”

“Welcome to the beginning of the rest of your lives! From this day forward, you are truly a member of the village!  Shall we recite the village law?”

Let’s not!  Malcolm thought as he stared down at his once brown, now faded and flaky leather loafers, willing himself to ignore the annoying meditations of all in the room.

“Give work, give heart

And most of all

Never depart!”

“Right, let’s begin with announcing the assignments.  Lucy Buttonsworth, you will be our newest school master’s assistant.  Jack Donaldson, you will be assisting the arborist.  Graham Rotterbelly, please report to the minister.”  What a name!  Minister Rotterbelly! Ha!

“Fred Matterston, you will be reporting to the protection squad.  Roslynn Thomers, please report to the carpenter’s bench.”

Roslynn, a carpenter?  That should be interesting.  Malcolm examined his friend’s face for her response.  She seemed to welcome the idea of working with wood. 

“Malcolm Jitterwood, please report to the fishmonger….” A sudden change spread across Malcolm’s face as if a pile of bricks had just landed directly on his stomach.  This was undoubtedly a blow to his system!  The job of fishmonger was known to be the most boring, smelly, oily, yucky job in the whole village!

“Ok, congratulations again!  You are all dismissed.”

“Someone must not like you!” Roslynn whispered into Malcolm’s ear as the other students started to shuffle out of the room.  Malcolm left the room in a state of shock, ignoring all conversation and dodging the faces of his classmates that were only too ready to ridicule and gawk. 

Malcolm opened the shifty door to his house, and just as he had supposed, his mother already knew what his particularly shameful assignment had been.

“Ha!” Diana greeted him with laughter as he entered their one-room hovel.

“You a fishmonger!  Ha! Someone at the town council must not like you very much!”

“That’s what Roslynn said too.” Malcolm moped.

“Well, when do you start your illustrious career as a fishmonger?”

“OHHHAHH!” An uncontrollable moan spilled out of Malcolm, seeping with despair and frustration as he contemplated his future.

 “Tomorrow…. tomorrow, my life ends!” 

“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen!  We need a new fishmonger. Alfy is getting well into his old age.  And why shouldn’t it be you?”

Well, because I’m smart and brave and adventurous and know nothing about fish and don’t care to!  Malcolm couldn’t bring himself to speak his thoughts, no matter how true they were.