Page 80 of A Rising Hope

The yellow-tinted fog moved, forming into the familiar streets of the Svitar Slums. We stood as if shadows ourselves, our bodies blending into the dark surroundings of the poorly lit avenues. Rain thundered above us, lightning illuminating the dirty, scuffed buildings. But the raindrops didn’t touch us, falling through us as if we were nothing but ghosts.

I watched a young child, no more than a few years old. A girl, beautiful and so vibrant, smiled at the passing strangers, reaching for them, waving, giggling. Her gorgeous dark eyes peered at every passing soul as if questioning, looking, and guessing. My heart froze as I realized the game she was playing.

One I had played so many times myself.

Are you my mother?Her curious eyes begged to know the answer, giving passing strangers a sheepish smile, harboring ahope that perhaps one of them would return it, recognizing it. But they didn’t.

The older woman that walked alongside her turned, and the streams from the ends of her umbrella ran straight down on the thin cloak that the girl wore. The woman grabbed her by the neck, pinching the back of it as she snarled,

“Stop smiling so much. You are drawing too much attention, or do you want me to sell you to one of them? Because if you won’t stop, I will. I don’t need trouble,” she barked, pointing with her chin to a brothel across the street. The little girl nodded, forcing her face to be more solemn, but she never stopped searching. Surely one of those faces would smile back, giving the girl hope that somewhere out there someone was waiting for her, searching for her too. But they never did.

The shadows shifted, this time the rainy sky turned into bright midday.

The gorgeous girl became a young woman, gifted and talented. She ran around the room in the orphanage, making the children laugh as she watched over them. Her clothes were worn, countless patches covering the flowy skirts she wore as she sang and danced.

“Stop it! You are too loud!” the nurse, or perhaps a caretaker, shouted from down the hall. The girl hushed the little kids putting them back to bed, winking at them as they all eagerly pretended to be asleep for their nap before the teacher made her way to the room.

“You are driving me insane!” The teacher scolded the young girl, dragging her by the ear out of the room. The girl didn’t fight the teacher’s hold, hiding a hushed smile as the kids in the room giggled at her before the heavy door was slammed shut.

The shadows moved again.

The yellow tint was more murky this time, blurring the snippets of the memories. But the girl was older now, perhapsfourteen or so. More beautiful, more gorgeous than ever before. Her face had lost its childishness but held the same eagerness. She sat in her bunk bed, moonlight illuminating her perfect face as she stared out of a round window onto the streets. Only here, while the world was sleeping, she dared to snap her fingers as little petals rained, just a few of them.

The shadows swirled around.

A blink and we stood near the Kinderby River. The young girl was watching an older boy near us throw rocks into the water. Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sheepishly darted back and forth as she tried not to stare.

“Want to try it?” The boy smiled, noticing the girl. She nodded.

The shadows moved once more. This time to the familiar orphanage, where the same boy stood hidden by the shadows in the alley, kissing the beautiful girl. Her eyes hued with such a pure feeling.

“You’ll come visit me tomorrow too, right?” she asked, her voice tender and loving.

“Yes, tomorrow and the day after. One day I’ll have enough money and we will run away from this terrible town,” he promised, and she nodded eagerly, believing him.

“Where is that insane girl!?” her caretaker’s voice raged, as the girl winced, already making her way towards the door, but not before landing a small kiss on the boy’s cheek.

The shadows moved again, and the Basalt Glass blade dug deeper into my skin.

We stood in the same familiar alley, though this time there was no loving affection being shared. No caring whisperings or promises of forever.

No, this time we watched the young girl cry, silently swallowing sobs as she manically tried wiping away the blooddripping down her legs. Her neck bruised, red markings on her wrists.

Air wheezed from my lungs, and I jerked to take a step closer to help her. But Insanaria pulled my head back.

“No, watch,” she snapped, and I watched, even as my heart broke for the girl who now stood on the porch of the orphanage getting a beating for ruining her clothes.

“I always said you were trouble. The mother was a whore and so is the daughter now. You keep smiling at those boys, that’s what you get!” The girl nodded, patiently taking the first smack, and then another, silently fighting sobs, hiccups interrupting her attempt at words. “You are insane for thinking I’ll give you any sympathy. So go cry your useless tears to someone who cares.” The girl nodded, scurrying inside the building.

But there was no one in the entire world that cared.

I no longer blinked. My own eyes were stained with tears.

The shadows moved again.

It had only been a few months. The leaves had turned yellow, scattering across the unclean streets. We stood a few steps away, still hidden in the shadows.

A small sack on her shoulders was all she carried. Her hand on her round belly as she walked away from the gods’ forsaken orphanage. Never looking back.

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