There was a girl laughing in a field. She was turning five, and yet she was still shorter than the tall grass that towered above her. Smaller than the sky she giggled at. Her body thrummed with excitement because it was not just any regular day, it was her birthday. She wandered and imagined, and she hoped. Her hands grasped at the looming flowers. Her eyes were bright, her hair was a mess. The sun bared down, there was not a cloud in sight. It was not just any day, it was the start of a new nation. Not that she cared about that.
The blood spilt in the name of a new nation was not her problem. The heads that had rolled, the fighting, the gunfire was not her problem. They were her father's. And her mother worried about the fires that still raged, her father not coming back, the ones who didn't have homes.
The young girl simply didn't worry. She never needed to.
"Persephone, Where are youe?" Persephone froze. Her mama had stood tall, glaring at the young girl. Her brows were furrowed, and she searched desperately for her child. Their eyes had met. "We have to go, nouu."
Persephone raced to her mother, her tiny hands grasping at her pants. "What's going on Mama?"
Her mother shot a worried look behind them. "Huirry." They sped up, and the girl struggled. Her chest heaved. She called her for her mother, but her mother's eyes were focused on the distance. "Huirry."
Persephone bit her lip, tears threatening to erupt. "Myi anniversaire." Her birthday was ruined. She was torn from the field, her imagination, the kingdom she had built.
Her mother's eyes were glazed, shifting from one tree to the next. "Iy know, Iy know."
Persephone pouted, the gravel crumbled under her feet as she struggled to keep up. She tugged on her mother's pants again and again.
Her mother kept on repeating herself instead of explaining anything, but Persephone didn't understand, and her temper started to shine.
Their house grew in the distance. Persephone stared at the unstoppable force, at her home. "Mama?"
Her mother shushed her. Her hand gripped tighter on Persephone's wrist. Her shoulders were tense, and Persephone started to cry. Her skin itched, frustration boiled. Tension cut through the air. She didn't like this.
Her mother faltered in their speed, only for a second. Rage curled on her face, her eyes flashed as they caught a beautiful woman standing in front of her house. "That's enough." Pain raced through her mother's voice, and Persephone looked up at her.
Persephonie's lip trembled. This was mama's upset voice. She peaked around her mother's leg, and all she saw was strands of red.
Red that trailed down her father's forehead, covering the ground. "Papa?"
"Quiet." Her mother's eyes did not leave the woman.
Persephone snapped her jaw shut, but her eyes were frozen on her father's figure. Her father's still figure.
"She is cute, Cœurvianne." A woman spoke and the shadows fell away. Her movement was graceful, beautiful, every movement a dance. But her eyes were dead, and Persephone couldn't meet them. The way she called Persephone cute didn't seem like a complement.
Her mother's hand tightened. Persephone whined, but her mother's rage kept her from talking. The beautiful day turned icy with the new adult that had brought the rupture, and Persephone started to shiver.
"Youe're nok happy Iy'm here, myi soule?" The woman's voice was light, but darkness crept around the edges. Her mother's lips were pressed together, and her eyebrows tightened, and Persephone burrowed herself into her mother's back.
"Ki, Iy just have to tell mye husband youe're here." Her Mother's eyes finally strayed to papa's still body and refocused on the woman. Her mother's hands shook, but her face didn't twitch.
The woman barely moved, but her eyebrows arched for just a second at the mention of her Papa, and it fell back into the blank slate she had worn the whole meeting, the only show of emotion was the rage that bubbled in her eyes. She finally moved, something akin to pity plastered onto her gleaming face. "We've met." The air whipped around the two of them, "Iy've got to asck, do ayll your lovers leave youe, or do youe always run away first?"
Persephone peeked her head around her mother's quivering legs. She wondered why her papa wasn't moving, why the red dropped on the floor, why the birds were still singing. She knew, in that deep part of her that had watched and had grown in a country falling and a new state rising. She knew he wasn't alive. He had gone to the place where the soldiers went. The one where they didn't return. Tears started to form in her eyes, her stomach dropped. Persephone looked up, trying to figure out why her mother couldn't keep him alive like she had always promised. Her mother's face did not hold the answers to the secret.
"Why are youe here?" The snarl startled Persephone, and she dug herself back into the cloth.
"Youe know, youe always knew this is how we would end. Ai heartbeat away."
Persephone did not know how it would end, no matter how commanding the voice was.
"Iy'm sorry, myi love."
The woman raised a metal weapon and Persephone blinked wondering what the apology was about. The woman pulled the trigger. Persephone flinched, the sound ringing in her ears.
Her mother jerked. Fell. And landed with a thud.
Persephone cried out, grasping onto her mother's shirt.
"Petitei marionnette." A cold hand curled onto Persephone's shoulder. The voice sent shivers down her spine.
Persephone tried her best to squirm out the grasp. Ice filled her veins."Myi name is Persephone," she snapped, annoyed that the woman wouldn't call her her own name, "nok Marionette." She wanted her mother to save her from the cold hands that grasped her soul, but her mother didn't move. "Mama." Tears flooded down her cheeks.
"Ah, but youe are ai marionnette, child. So many strings dance around youe."
Rain ripped through the sunny day, and Persephone shook. The words raced through her mind, seeking shelter, but she wasn't a marionette, she was a little girl. "Nok."
The woman knelt down next to her. Her hands gripped Persphone's chin, her fingers tightening. The woman yanked Persephone's head. Their eyes met.
"Youe should've been miine."
Persephone attempted to shake her head. She didn't want to be this woman's anything.
"Iy'm youer Mère, nouu." The fingers clenched tighter, and Persephone cried out. She didn't want this woman to be her mother, but fear raced through her body, and the day darkened, but the women did not relent, "Yes?"
Silently, Persephone nodded. The fingers left her face, a trail of pain reeling in the wake. The woman stood up, situatiating her dress.
The woman held out a cold hand. "Let's go, Marionnette."
Persephone grasped it. And the rain fell. Heaven weeped.
For it was a very special day.
YOU ARE READING
Target To Save
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