One look at the scene and anyone would get the feeling as if the goddess of rebellion has admitted defeat. Her light grey dyed hair hangs over her face as June refuses to look at the scene that stands before her.
A few moments ago she was standing beside the six people she loves most in the world. Now, they stand in front of her, tied to a chair. A single bow and arrow sits at her feet, begging to be shot.
A demanding voice echoes for her to choose to go free. To sacrifice someone to save the others. One life to save six: seems like a good choice unless each of those lives mean the world to you.
She doesn't even bother contemplating because she knows she will never choose and she'll rather die here than to kill one of her "family" members instead.
She thinks she's outplayed the game master whose voice disappeared for a while. Then, she hears him again. Angrier.
"If that arrow is not shot, pray each soul finds heaven tonight!"
It sends fear to every inch of her body. The thought that she might be the reason her whole family dies is a thought she'd never wants to cross her mind.
"No! No! No!" She cries out. Tears stream down her face, one of the few times this actually happens.
That hard outer shell has finally been broken to reveal the shrieking inner pulp that cries out defenseless.
Eventually, she has no choice but to hold up the bow. She holds her fingers gently over the arrow. A weapon she's been admiring all her life has finally become her biggest enemy.
She aims but finds no target as she moves the arrowhead continuously, still debating her decision.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
The process seems endless.
But it's that one second that changes everything.
It's the moment she puts the bow down to tuck her hair behind her ears where she feels the feather earring she had gotten many years ago.
Something so small but serves such a big purpose in her life.
A reminder of her rebellious nature and her attraction towards the unattainable. A reminder that she will never be told what to do but will be the one calling the shots.
And thus her fire is lit.
She aims.
She fires.
She never misses her mark.
Especially when it's aimed at the small hint of light that is the source of the commanding voice and the person it belongs to.
YOU ARE READING
Pandora's Box
FantasyTourists think this town is magical. That's because it looks like it belongs in a fairytale. It's not. But it's the home of a family that are quite magical indeed. You would them find the floating around aimlessly while reading... Nursing flowers b...
