The view of a child during the Emperor's divine judgement.
10:33
A shrill noise tore through the room, shattering the thin glass of sleep. I jolted upright, trembling, heaving from the sudden sound—like falling in a dream and being ripped from it."I must've slept through the alarms," I murmured raspily.
Feet hitting the cold wooden floorboards, I tiptoed slowly, trying to ease the strange sensation spreading through me.
The light through the large window blinded me. Small crystals gleamed at me."Snow. Mama! It's snowing."
"Finally…" A small, still smile crept across my face.
"Yes, I've seen!" she shouted back. "There's no school today."
I frowned, staring vacantly at the black-tinged snow.I wondered, Is it cold at war?
Dragging myself toward the bedroom door, I yawned and slinked downstairs. The bristles of her broom scratched against the floor in the quiet. I missed a step but caught myself.
Slipping into thicker clothes and a jacket, I reached for my winter hat. Fingers brushing the crocheted fabric, I froze.It still held his smell. Lavender…
"Mama, I'm going out!"
"Alright," she said, distracted.
"Want to play?"
"I have things to do."
"But—" I muttered, defeated.
Pressing the hat to my face, tears soaked the knitted fabric. He would have told me not to cry. He always had a smile—big, bold, broader than any superhero's. Stars in his smile. Someone I looked up to.
"Can you help me tie my laces?"
"Pardon?"
"Nothing." I crouched to my shoes. Holes gaped in the fabric. I hadn't gotten new ones in months, too scared to ask.
In the living room, Mama cleaned the table and chairs, leaving one untouched. She stared at it longingly.There are only two of us. Why clean so much? I thought.
"I'm leaving!" I muttered.
"I heard," she replied.
"Please play with me, Mama. Papa won't be home for a long time."
No response. I already knew. He wasn't coming back.
Dragging my feet, I heard her voice again:"I just swept that! Hurry outside!"
I lifted my head, shameful. "Sorry," I said. A ball lodged in my throat.
A gust of snow bellowed at me—wrathful. I closed the door behind me and kicked at the powdery ground.
I sat in the snow, rubbing my jacket. "Itchy," I murmured, staring at the brilliant sky.
Unzipping my coat, I revealed my pyjamas. Red soaked through an itchy patch on my arm. Scratching only made it bleed more. Old scabs and new joined in a rough pattern.
"Papa," I whispered, eyes fixed on the stars. "Please come back."
Seven shooting stars streaked across the sky. One broke into two, making eight. They were peaceful, almost staring at me. Saying, "Hello."
The sky was gray, but a bit red. Like blood. Really red.
I remembered Papa's advice—start with flat spots of snow. Clawing into it, I felt a sudden burn. Fwsshhh. Flames erupted where my fingers touched the ice.
Burning snow? My eyes widened, staring.
Anger surged. Wrathful. Teeth gnashing, eyebrows furrowed, hot tears streaming. Snot steamed from my nose.
Fists slammed the ground, fire biting my skin again and again. It felt wrong. It felt right.
Then I stopped. My hands were pink, and the skin blistering and peeling. Dust on my knuckles.
"Why?" I murmured
"WHY!" I exclaimed, this time in a screaming tantrum
And I repeated it. Again. And again.
I turned towards the house.
The door latch clicked open.
There, my mother. Dressed with full winter clothing, a hat and gloves. And in her hands she held my gloves. And this time, she was smiling. Extending her arms to hug me with melancholic tears in her eyes.
My tears slowly cooled as I unclenched my fists. My nails pulled from my skin.
I stood up. I walked. I ran. I sprinted.
The rage draining from my eyes into joy.
And finally. My face turned gray, the light torn from my eyes as they widened in shock
They weren't shooting stars. And it wasn't snow.
My shoes melted into gooey black, stinking sharply.
The sky rumbled like a whale. My stomach lurched.
And before me. In an instant the house had been reduced to a large hole. It went on forever, edges invisible, like the world had cracked open. The air smelled of the garlic Mama uses.
It wasn't a bomb. Or a wishing star. It was something else. And then… I saw her.
As I looked up a large, pale woman descended from the sky—naked.
My lips pursed, "Ma-Ma."