Death

A Definition:

The process of dying, in other words: The terminus of ones life.

The state of being dead.

Pronunciation: (Deth)

That word was all too familiar. Harrowing and trepidatious in the eyes of those who had the displeasure of suffering from it. A word which many feared to use in the desolate prairie in which the Lopez family lived. It had been three years now. Three years since the Apaches raided the farm. Apparently Mr. Matthew Lopez – the farrier and saddle maker of the land, notorious for his precise skill- had once again failed to settle his 'overdue debts' with the demanding chief of the tribe over the matter of a badly fitted horse shoe. He was an old friend of the family, long ago, before he had joined the tribe due to his family origins. Now he was known the being the mortal enemy. His name was Erik, a good and true man until he let his fate settle in the wrong hands. They had changed him and not for the better.

It had been a glorious day, the sun was rolling serenely in the sapphire skies. The lethargic prairie soaking in what may be the last sunshine of the summer before the harvest season was due to begin, and leisure would be a a rare experience to come by. The day appeared to be exceptionally ordinary. Nothing odd at all. At least that what was thought. Soon enough it had happened. Susanna Lopez, mother of two and doting wife to the aforementioned Matthew Lopez, left the chalet to milk the cows. She pulled the tweed hair band from her crown to allow her silky curls to flow loosely in the gentle morning breeze, laughing gently when she heard a rather persistent "Moo" coming from the commonly named, Daisy. The larger of the cows.

"Hello there fellas, y'all gon' save me from my reverie?" Another laugh escaped her lips and once again, Daisy "moo'd" This time much louder and prominent. "Hold'ya tongue will ya? I jus' need to grab a pale!" the short woman declared as she reached for the metal milk pale dangling precariously above the straw bales. The door creaked open sharply. Ms Lopez's head snapped 'round in the direction of the noise, allowing her foot to hover mid climb. That's when the shots were fired. They were quick, like a band aid, Incredibly loud and painfully sudden. Her eyes widened like a deer in the middle of the road. Then She fell, but not out of injury or wounds. The sheer volume and suddenness of the bullets had caused her dainty fingers to release from the ladder she was ascending.

"Ma' ! " A voice called as a timid young urchin traversed into the barn. Upon the sight of her unconscious mother she gasped and felt her legs begin to numb. A rough hand grabbed her by the shoulder blade. She felt unable to run. As though this man had jinxed her feet. Binding her without the means of rope or canvas. A man was standing over her mother's body, dagger pressed firmly to her throat. One false move and she would be dead. The child's stomach dropped as though entering the deep pits of nothingness. An entirely new pain was there. A pain that hadn't been there before. A horrid feeling that was new to be experienced. Who were these people? What had she done to deserve this?... What if her mother were to be killed? "NO! Don't!" The man's fingers grasping the back of her neck silenced her soon enough. She chocked and allowed tears of pain the seep through her eyes.

"The girl is of no use to me. Take the woman!" Another spoke as he too ambled into view. His bone jewellery and animal hide poncho caught the child's watchful eye. He passed a glance but was soon to join his friend, swiping the dagger from his hands.

"Apaches" She breathed, before loosing breath and collapsing to the floor after another squeeze to the throat.