|Child of Death, Speaker of Truth
Author: Pandora's Mirage PM
She was buried alive by her own father when she was six. Now that she's back, things are gonna get a little messy around here. And a whole lot bloodier. UPDATERated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Supernatural - Chapters: 3 - Words: 1,858 - Reviews: 70 - Favs: 19 - Follows: 20 - Updated: 12-23-12 - Published: 06-28-10 - id: 2822653
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Love doesn't exempt people from dying
"Big sister, what is Father doing to Mother?", asked a young boy with large, innocent eyes bright with unshed tears. He clutched and tugged the folds of his sister's skirt drawing her attention to his question. Bi-colored orbs softened and she reached out a hand ruffling the boy's hair before turning back to the scene in front of them.
Their Mother was on the ground with her hands tied behind her back and their Father was standing before her, his hand outstretched while light blue patterns twisted and swirled around the pair in a circle. Screams of pain tore from the woman's pale, blood coated face. Yet Father did not cease his chanting. Hordes of villagers surrounded all four of them, present in each villager's hand was a stick, and their faces hid nothing and shone with malice.
She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. Anger rushed through her and for a moment, her eyes turned red. She blinked and the color melted into the depths of her eyes. Why were they doing this?
Her Mother's shrill, heart-piercing scream filled the night as her Father's sword sliced through her abdomen. He withdrew the sword before plunging it straight into her heart. The young boy's eyes were wide, uncomprehending.
Blood dripped off the sword and pooled on the ground. Her mother's eyes widened and filled with tears as she struggled to form words.
Her death was coming. The young girl stiffened.
Father whipped his sword around and flung her off it, eyes emotionless as he heard her pained shriek and she fell to the ground, the sudden blow too much for her poor pain-racked body to take.
The six-year old girl could not move. She felt rage and despair boiling inside her as she found herself frozen and that she could only stand stock still, bi-colored orbs trained on the droplets of her mother's crimson blood before sliding over to where her broken body lay, unmoving.
Suddenly her little brother ran forward and shook their mother, trying to wake her. His eyes were wide and terrified as tears rolled down his cheek. As though in a trance, the girl walked over to them.
She had heard that they were to be sentenced to a sacrificial death as part of their village's tradition. Her Father, as the village headman, was expected to carry out the ritual.
What did they do wrong? What did her Mother do to deserve death as a punishment?
The blue pattern around them flared brightly before fading away.
A moment of silence.
Joyful cries and shouts filled the air as the villagers smiled and laughed, finally relieved that the cursed witch had been silenced. By her own husband nonetheless. Now all they had to do was get rid of the offsprings.
Hands gripped them as the girl and boy were forcefully hauled from their mother. She watched as their Father dropped the dead body into the six-feet hole they had dug. She watched as they pushed her little brother in, unable to do anything. Then she was thrown in and she hit the ground wtih a thud, all breath leaving her body. And there she lay next to the dead body of her mother and her unconscious brother. She stared at them unblinkingly. She knew it was fruitless to try anything for she was bound by the spells the villager's had placed upon her.
Her eyes flared red once again as her Father gave the first shove of soil onto her face. Little by little soil was thrown from above, nearly covering all of her. Her lips parted as she drew her last breath and in that she let past her final words, "I curse you. Each and every one of you."
The grains of soil fell and they were buried.