Blurry

She awoke to silence, complete silence. Usually there was a cry of a baby, a scrape of a kettle, or a stomp of a boot. But today, she awoke to complete silence. Her vision had been getting worse and worse, and even being a child, she knew nothing good would come from her depleting vision. Still, she stayed positive and helpful around the house. She searched the best she could for signs of life, for a sign that she was not alone. Sometimes her parents would stay out searching for food, grazing the fields for materials, but today felt different. She had never awoken alone. She tidied up her corner in the wooden house and stretched out her arms to start walking around. She could make out shapes and colors, the rest of her waking life depended on her other senses. She saw a small flicker of light in the corner and gravitated toward it like a moth to a flame. ‘Mother never leaves candles unattended,’ she thought, and instantly got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She inspected the flame as best she could and after realizing that it was the only source of light and heat, it unintentionally became her best friend. She sat and sat in the dark until she noticed the flame getting lower. The flame was devouring the candle like it was its last meal. ‘Be brave.’ She whispered to herself and ventured to the cabinets by the stove. She placed a glass cup over the candle and sheltered the flame, then made her way to the door. It was pitch-black outside, her only guidance was the small flame under the glass. She knew the neighbor’s hut was just meters away and they recently had a baby, so she thought that they would be willing to help her.

When she reached the hut, she could hear the baby cooing. She carefully used the light to guide her way inside and found a small object shaped like a bean and tiny movements coming from it. She quickly put the candle in between two pieces of wood and reached out for the baby. The baby cooed and curled up in her arms and they both appreciated the warmth of each other. She then tried her hardest to see if anyone else was home, but it was clear that they were alone. Her parents had left her before, the longest time being three days. She had to wash herself, feed herself, and most importantly, protect herself from the animals outside. They left her with candles and matches but this time was different. They left her with a single flame burning, and the neighbor’s newborn baby. She remembered what her father said to her once when he took her hunting, ‘Never underestimate yourself.’ She clung to those words like hot skin on leather. She was familiar with being alone but now she had to think of someone else, and fast. With a quick glance at the shortening candle, she scooped up the baby and started slowly walking around the hut for materials. She found a blanket, a wooden chair, a bowl made of twigs, and a knife. The baby was falling asleep in her arms, and she knew it was now or never to create something that could get them both through the night. She broke down the chair and used one of the wooden pieces as the base of her invention. She then took the bowl apart and carefully laid down the twigs onto the wood base. She gently grabbed the candle and placed it securely within the bed of twigs. The dying light now had life, as long as she could keep adding twigs to the flame. For the first time, she felt comforted. The innocent sleeping baby and the burning flame gave her hope and confidence in herself, until she heard a scraping at the door.

It was not a scrape that came from a parent checking on their baby, or a good Samaritan coming to help. It was the scrape of a hungry, restless, beast. Her heart started pounding and her hands went cold. She stretched out one of her hands carefully in every direction looking for the knife. When she felt its handle, she let out a soft sigh, knowing that she at least would not go down without a fight. To the left was the sleeping baby, in her right hand was the dull knife, and right in front of her was the breeze from the bottom of the door. The door shook loudly, like someone trying to break it off the hinges and the baby instantly started crying. Overwhelmed with the sound of the baby’s wails, she could not concentrate on anything else. The door flew open and all she could see was a huge shape that was larger than any animal she had ever seen. She squinted and begged her sight to allow her to see something, but it was just the figure’s shape in the door frame and total darkness. She screamed with all her might and ran toward the beast with the knife in hand. She extended her arms out in every direction, hurling stabs at the beast’s body parts. She was not seeing shapes or objects… she was seeing red. She did not know if it was her mind or the blood from the beast. But one thing she heard brought her right back to her senses. It was her mother calling out, begging her to stop. But she was already in attack mode, and aimed for what she could imagine was the beast’s face. After 13 stabs, she let up and focused on her mother’s sobbing. She had no idea why her mother would not be proud of her defending herself, she knew her father would be proud. But she did not hear her father. That is when it sank in, her parents were always trying to teach her a lesson, teach her to be independent, strong, and unafraid of anything. But they never told her how far they were willing to go to teach her those lessons. With her incoherent mother beside her, and a lifeless body on the floor, she knew who the beast was. She sat down on the hard wooden floor, with a sense of both accomplishment and dread.