I SINK to the floor. Marisol lays her legs on top of mine. I look up at the sky. Which makes me think of my mother, who must be looking up at the very same sky, only seeing an inky pool of night rather than all this abrasive daylight.
I wonder if she misses me. What she thinks happened, why she thinks I left. If she's looking for me. If she's worried about me at all.
I think of her warm brown hands, nimble as they braided my hair. The tenderness as she cupped them around my cheeks to soothe me, the tenseness in them as she handled a sword. The next thing I see is her eyes, sharp and graceful as the night, the wistfulness in them as they looked to the sea.
The sea. I look to it now, so endless as it stretches beneath us. Is she looking out at the very same waters, under the very same sky? One illuminated in sunlight, the other bathed in darkness?
YOU ARE READING
A Shrine to an Unknown God
FantasyAntigone Katsaros was born and raised in a cult. Now, at eighteen, she doesn't know what wifi is, but she's well-versed in the old gods. [A Wattpad featured story.]
