The Petals Of Rose

Chapter 1

All the kings heads are now with the dead
Most die with a tackle
Swords, wolves and knives
Nobody ever expects it to be his son's apple pie.

Market day. The busiest day of the year. The day the village is crowded with sweaty bodies at your every turn and people yelling and pots banging. The red hot heat wasn't helping much either. It only caused the people to strip off most of their clothing and sweat like they just did heavy labor. And my oh my, I didn't know our bodily fluids could smell so horrid, it was like the skunks had a party last night.

From the window I was crouched in the smell wasn't too bad, but I could still smell it enough to know my nose was going to fall off when I left the protection of our apartment. Then again that could happen because of the sun instead, I could practically feel my skin melting off of my bones. The air was shimmering with heat and humidity. It would be impossible to get a canteen of water by the afternoon. Not unless I wanted to drink lake water, which was just as bad as the smell lingering in the village, if not worse.

I stepped down from the window and walked to the shady part of my room. The second I stepped out of the sun's reach a cool almost breeze whispered on my tan skin. I sighed. My bedroom was small and bare. Only a ragged mattress and a chair piled with roddy clothes sat in the corner. Which in other words meant that they took up more than half of the room. The sand walls were well... Tan, which was the most color in the room if you excluded the brown dirt that covered majority of everything I owned, and even that wasn't enough. But I didn't have much belongings anyways so it didn't really bother me much.

I walked down the narrow hall to my grandmother's room, running the tips of my fingers along the rough sand wall. When I took my hand away my skin was smooth. Like the hand a woman was suppose to have. But I wasn't a housewife that had never done a day of dirty work in her life, I was a woman that wasn't born into an easy life.

My grandmothers room was much larger than mine, it held our bathroom and kitchen, and it was much more colorful. Albeit her red painted walls were chipped and old, I still had an odd appreciation for them. Her walls reminded me of her and her personality. Old but still alarming and fun.

"Wake up Kiya," I whispered as I walked over and sat down on her bed, which was actually just a mattress stuffed with clothes neither of us could fit. I stroked her white hair back from where it stuck to her forehead and kissed her cheek tenderly. Kiya was another word for 'grandmother' in my small tribe.

Yes, I live in a village but I am still part of a tribe. My tribe still lives in the forest, in tents and animal skins, but for the sake of my grandmother I moved us into the Oakland Nasia Village so that I could reach a healer quickly if need be. The name fit the village very well because well...
everything was made of sand and oak trees and the place was very nauseating. All day it was yelling and the clattering of pots and bad hygiene, never any peace and quiet. Oh, and don't get me started on the men here. It was a miracle my grandmother was even still asleep.

My stomach turned and my heart stopped. No. She couldn't be.

"Kiya! Wake up! It's time to wake up!" I pulled her blanket away and pressed my finger to her neck. There was nothing. I could feel hot tears fall down my cheeks and a sob tugged at my chest. I shook her body and whispered a traditional prayer. The prayer was a way of asking Gasweka, the god of life, to kill an animal in turn of a human, but the balance had to be restored. In return you had to either save an animal or kill a human.

But mid prayer I thought I heard her mumble "Khalisi if you shake me one more time I will hurt you," and when I looked up her eyes were still closed. I cocked my head to the side and raised a red eyebrow at her and waited incase I heard more. "And put that eyebrow down before it flies away. We both know nothing can fly with one wing, little dove."