The Flames

Kateřina Zelená

I'm running on a narrow path. Small stones and needles get stuck in my feet, but I keep running. Ahead of me stretches a black forest with tall trees, swamps and wild animals. A forest that has always been forbidden to me.

Not far behind me, the first voice says,

"Witch!"

I turn and see an elderly farmer with a torch in one hand and a pitchfork in the other. He laughs cruelly and calls to me,

"You can't get far, little one." Branches whip across my feet and plants tear my nightgown. But I keep running. I can still hear their voices in the distance and feel their fires.

"Witch! Witch! Witch!"

is carried above the trees. I run on and on, their voices have long since disappeared into the silence, yet I don't stop.

It's beginning to dawn when I stop and gasp. I sit down in the moss beside me and examine my ruined legs. Dried rivulets of blood runs down my feet. I lie on my back, trying to calm myself down. Trying to wake up from this bad dream, so real, so painful. But I can never wake up, because this isn't a dream, nor a nightmare.

The breeze and the smell of the forest, in the daylight so magical and welcoming, lulls me into a peaceful sleep.

I wake up but keep my eyes closed. Birds sing outside the windows. Father must be working in the meadow by now, and Mummy and my little sister at the market. I open my eyes and the world around me wakes me up better than a bucket of cold water.

I'm not laying at the moss anymore, and I'm certainly not home. I'm lying in a bed that doesn't belong to me.

I quickly close my eyes. I anyone is here with me, I don't want them to know I'm fully conscious. I scan the room as best I can.

But suddenly an unfamiliar hand touches my forehead and I cry out.

An old woman is sitting next to me. She has honey skin and eyes that seem to be all shades of green and gold. Strands of grey hair, intertwined with flowers and acorns, fall down her shoulders.

She looks at me with a tilted head and a sympathetic gaze.

'It's all right, little one,'

She's trying to comfort me, but does not try to touch me again.

"Who are you?" I ask her suspiciously.

"I'm Daria" she says.

,,A witch, just like you" She smiles amusedly at my twitch at the word witch.

"So you really are one too, aren't you Prim?"

She leans in as if studying me with her eyes. I shake my head in disbelief and deny.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," she assures me, taking my hands in hers. I let her.

"People don't understand, nor can they." She sighs.

"They don't believe anything they can't explain, they're afraid of it. But that doesn't mean we're bad." She tries to reassure me.

"I want to go home" I sob and hide my face in my hands. "It's going to be okay, everything's going to be okay little one" She gently takes me in her arms and rocks me until I cry and let go of my pain. And that takes years.

......

I jump from branch to branch. I'll end up losing my balance, but I don't fall.

I have 15 feet of free fall under my feet, but I don't think about it. In fact, I don't even care. I bounce and jump again to the next branch.

I hear a loud snap and jump to the next branch. The branch I was standing on a few seconds ago, has broken and is hanging on to a piece of wood. I walk barefoot to the edge and squat down beside it. It's broken, but it's still holding.

I put my hand to the broken branch and close my eyes. I imagine the branch lifting. Layer by layer, it rejoins the tree. I open my eyes.

The branch stands again as if nothing has happened. However, there's a scar where the crack left it. The memory of the accident.

I turn and head for home.

When I enter the living room, Daria is lying in a chair, staring into the empty fireplace.

I kneel beside and run my hand over the wood. Behind my fingers, the cheerful fire remains flickering and dancing.

I move over to Daria and take her hands in mine, the way she does when she wants to comfort me.

"What's wrong?" She looks at me, but her gaze goes thru me, as if she wouldn't see me. It is full of sadness and compassion. It's the same one she used to watch me with seven years ago.

Her forest green eyes don't sparkle the way they used to.

"Something's happened, Primrose," she gasps. She strokes my cheek lightly. A tear falls from her right eye. But she is strong, and looks me right in the eyes.

"In your village, your house" her voice shakes and she is unable to continue. But that's all she has to say. I slowly back away from her.

I should calm her down. I should be there for her, I should help her. But that has to wait.

I'll run out the door. Daria's voice echoes through the door.

"God in heaven, you can't go there, Prim!"

But that doesn't stop me. My skin is covers in fur and my bones are getting longer.

I run towards the village. I know the way. I've walked it countless times.

I wanted to go back for my little sister. But life in the wilderness would be too cruel, too dangerous for a little child like her. Daria convinced me to leave her in the village, to live her own life. But every day I would go to the edge of the forest and watch our village, hoping to see her.

It only happened once. She looked at me with her amber eyes full of fear. Then she ran away. If she's ever heard anything about me, it must have been terrible things. I never went back to the village again. But here I am now, running after her.

I zigzag through the trees and fly down the narrow path.

I stand at the edge of the forest. I don't change my body. I puff out my chest and present my majestic antlers to my surroundings. I want everyone to know, that it's me, and that I'm coming for my little sister.

Our house was right on the edge of the village.

Was.

Now it's just ruins. I return to my human form immediately and throw myself into the ruins.

"Aisha!"

I call out, looking for her. I pick up the charred wood and throw it far behind the house. I pick up dust and shards. But she's not there. She's nowhere.

Suddenly, I see a pile in the meadow behind the house. It didn't come from the house. I walk closer to it and my heart stops. The pile is charred and blackened. I force myself to take another step and I see them.

They're lying there. White, clean as fallen snow. I rush to the pile and take them in my arms.

"Aisha!"

A cry escapes my throat.

"Sister," I whisper, rocking her in my arms.

…

It's already dark. I'm still sitting by that horrifying altar, holding her. I can't let go of her. I can't just let her go.

"It was him"

the voice in my head still echoes.

The farmer.

I stand up.

White bones fall to the ground. I head for the farmer's house. I can see him through the window. The man who ruined my life and took the only thing that ever mattered to me. He's sitting in the living room, rocking a little girl, laughing. A beatiful girl with golden curls. That's what she looked like. Just like her. A little girl, enchanted with the world.

The man looks in my direction. There's recognition in his eyes.

Then earth begins to vibrate. Clean, quiet tremors. The man doesn't even have time to cry out.

I smile and my heart, the village, and the farmer are shattered into a million pieces.

I walk across the meadow.

In my arms I carry a little golden-haired girl.

Aisha.

That's what I'll call her.

                                                                                                                                               Edited by Petra Němcová