The Green Eyes of the Meadow

The leaves felt fresh and free. She gently ran her hand over the damp grass. Her fingers slid across the soft greenery, the damp blades tickling her skin. The soil was wet too - maybe from the morning dew, or perhaps from the girl’s tears. A light summer breeze carried a hint of coolness. Fluffy clouds floated across the endless blue sky. Tall, healthy trees grew all around. This place granted peace to the heart. A small house with a brick roof was the only thing missing to complete the picture of a scene straight out of a fairy‑tale book.

A young girl knelt down. Her light trousers grew darker. The grass shared the same vibrant green as her eyes. A moment later, she raised her gaze, hazy and unfocused.. In the distance, the sun shone, its rays reflecting in a small stream, bathing the branches of the trees in light. The girl looked through this world; her eyes drifting far beyond the edges of reality. Thoughts that no one else could understand filled her head. A tear slowly ran down the girl’s pale cheek and landed on a green blade of grass. From the forest depths came the birdsong. Silence, tranquility… and pain that arose out of nowhere.

“Bang,” went the sound of the trunk door closing. “Liza!”

The girl did not flinch. Yet as if struck by lightning, clarity pierced her eyes.

***

Outside, a dim moon was shining. Its light was insufficient to illuminate the little girl’s bedroom. That’s why a candle burned on the bedside table. The tongues of flame caught the girl’s attention; she brought her palm closer to the light. Her fingers felt the heat, and she pulled her hand away. Her face also felt this warmth. The little girl blinked, and sparks lit up in her green eyes. She jumped up and ran to her wooden desk, which her father had made for her. She opened a small notebook and with her childish crooked handwriting began to write — something about family, candle's warmth, and the dim moonlight…

“Liza!” — a young woman with a messy bun burst into the room. She wore a blue nightgown with wave‑like patterns reminiscent of sea waves. “Sweetie, we need to go. Quickly.” The mother grabbed the little girl’s hand and pulled her into the corridor.

“Mom, mom. Wait, I left my doll back there.” Although Liza wanted to go back for her toy, she only squeezed her mother’s hand tighter as she followed. Her other hand clutched the green notebook helplessly, still in her grasp.

“Hush, Liza… Ah, we must go,” the mother said, breathing in sharply as she pushed ahead.

The girl wanted to ask where and why they were hurrying, where her father was, but then this noise appeared. She had never heard anything like it. Thunder? Probably, but this sound was closer than anything distant in the sky. People were screaming. She became frightened. As her little legs moved quickly, she felt like crying. Passing by a large living room window, the girl saw neighbors and her friends running away. She saw fire — flames consuming the homes of those she knew, burning her favorite trees and flowering shrubs. Liza’s head spun. The fire was far, but one glance at it burned her from within. She felt that flame rising in her own heart.

She tugged at her mother’s hand. “Where’s Dad? Where is he, mommy?”

Fear and determination — that’s what she saw on her mother’s face. The mother froze for a second, picked her daughter up in her arms, and ran on. Liza sobbed, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks.

“My darling, close your eyes. Everything is okay, it will all end soon,” the mother whispered words of comfort to her daughter, firmly cupping her head in her hand. “Just wait a little.”

The front door slammed, and the girl felt her mother’s body shudder. The woman seemed rooted to the floor; she did not move an inch. Liza pressed her whole body against her mother and stopped breathing.

“Lauren, Liza,” a firm male voice echoed through the small house. “Are you here?”

A sigh of relief escaped the woman’s chest. Her husband was alive.

“Dad, we’re here,” Liza shouted as loudly as she could, but her voice trembled.

“My sweet…”

A shot. A deafening ring filled the girl’s ears. She squeezed her eyes shut. Why didn’t Dad finish speaking…

Tears filled her mother's eyes. She gently stroked her daughter’s cheek. The corners of her lips lifted slightly, and a faint spark of love flickered in her gaze. They sat in the cellar on sacks of rice and other grains their family had grown. Liza loved dipping her hands into them; the grains slipped through her fingers like sand — you grabbed a handful, but only a few stayed in your palm. It was so fun…

“Liza, my love, I…” — the mother tried to remain strong, but the tears overwhelmed her speech.

Liza’s attention was drawn by the evil screams above; they approached every second.

“My little one, look at me,” she said, trying to stifle her sobs. She inhaled and continued:

“You will sit in that corner.” Tenderly stroking her daughter’s hair, she lifted her and carried her to the other side of the room. “You should sleep, it’s so late already.” She started piling sacks of flour and lentils around daughter. “Stay quiet, Liza, okay? Sit here as long as you can.”

The woman turned her eyes away — she didn’t know what she was saying, she didn’t know what to do. There was no exit from the village now. They were trapped with nowhere to run. But what would become of her little child, her baby, if she remained here alone? Who would save her child… or who would catch her?

“You mustn’t make a sound, Liza. Not a peep, do you understand?” The girl’s eyes were full of questions. She couldn’t understand what was happening; she only realized that everything was very bad. That made her more afraid. The fear in the little girl’s green eyes made her mother’s heart ache and beat faster.

“Liza, look at me, it’s okay. We will breathe together — in and out. One and two.” The girl’s small dress was soaked with her mother’s tears. Liza stopped hearing the cries from above; she stared straight into her mother’s eyes. Silence… The little hand that had been clutching the child’s notebook finally relaxed.

“Well done, my sunshine, you’re brave. Now sit here. I must go out, but no matter what happens, don’t come out. Breathe deeply, Liza. I will return,” the mother looked down, fully aware she was deceiving her daughter. “And you stay here, as long as you can.” The woman looked at the little girl. In the darkness, she could only see the faint outline of the child. “You may only come out if nothing else can be heard, okay? Carefully and slowly go up, try to find other people.”

“And you?”

Pain contorted the mother’s face. The woman, who just yesterday had been considered one of the most beautiful in their village, now looked decades older. She didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t know anything… Her heart seemed to stop.

“I am always with you, Liza. I am with you… always,” the woman’s words were hard to follow.

She gently kissed her daughter on the forehead, suppressing tears, pain, and the screams tearing at her soul. She had to do it — for her, her light, the most precious person to her.

“Mom…” The girl grabbed her mother’s arm. Only a small, narrow window high in the corner of the cellar admitted faint moonlight. “I love you… I’m always with you too.”

She stood aside like a ghost; the young woman saw it all as though in a waking dream.

Mother and daughter hugged tightly. They heard nothing of their surroundings. The shadows of fear that enveloped them slowly receded. It seemed as though the moonlight grew brighter. The pain subsided, giving way to calm.

The woman, wearing only her nightgown and slippers, slowly climbed the wooden ladder leading to the ceiling door. She turned and waved to her beloved daughter. The waves on her nightgown seemed to pull her into the bottomless darkness… That was the last time Liza saw her mother. When the cellar door slammed shut, Liza’s eyes closed too. She heard nothing. The child slept peacefully in the corner of the dark room. Her wet cheeks shimmered under the stream of faint light. Liza fell asleep…

An invisible ghost continued to watch the girl from afar. She wanted to reach out, but was too scared. She only reached out a trembling hand... but remained infinitely far. Gradually, the glow it cast faded and merged with the utter darkness.

***

“Liza,” a young man wrapped his trembling arms around the girl’s shoulders. “It’s okay, everything is fine.”

The sun warmed her face, as if helping the young woman calm down. The girl touched the earth; it seemed soaked with blood… The brunette closed her eyes tightly. Her face was red from tears; her head throbbed. Her clouded gaze slowly returned to the present. She gently laid her head on his shoulder. The young man asked nothing, only embracing her in silence. The pair sat for several minutes — in quiet and peace — on the soft green grass.

“I had to come here… This place was waiting for me.”

“This place?” — the man asked softly, afraid to startle the woman just calming down.

Her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight like emeralds. She looked at him and smiled.

“Here… My grandmother lived here, when she was very small. Somewhere over there stood her house,” she said, pointing into the distance. “I loved her very much, though we seldom spoke. We often just sat in silence, like now. She rarely spoke at all…”

“Your grandmother, hmm, the one who… um”— the young man hesitated; this whole conversation felt strange, and somehow ashamed to ask.

“Yes, I was named Liza in her honor. Look,”—the girl took a small, yellowed notebook from the pocket of her dirty trousers. Despite its wear, its color remained vivid—a deep green reminiscent of its owner's and woman's eyes.

“This was her notebook,” she traced the cover and continued, “She gave it to me before she died. Inside, she wrote about her life from the moment she moved here. She lived with her family here until she was six… Then the war began in the city. Their village was among the first attacked.” The girl glanced toward the stream — it flowed as swiftly as time…

“Well, that’s all I know from history books. And in the notebook, Grandma only recorded how she bade farewell to her mother and stayed behind in the cellar.” The girl looked at the young man again; his eyes reflected sympathy. No matter how hard he tried, he could never understand these emotions. And that’s good—no one in the world should. “I read it all from her notebook; it included a note that she was writing so her mother would never be forgotten and their final moments together.” The girl no longer wanted to cry; her eye color seemed to have dimmed slightly. “And this place—it called to me ever since I read the entries.” She closed her eyes. “Was I meant to see it with my own eyes?” She addressed not the young man, but the sky and the sun—this meadow. “How my grandmother survived, what happened afterward… nothing more was written in the notebook. I found online that after that night the troops were withdrawn. That decision proved costly—they only wasted weapons and soldiers…” These words carried bitterness, as fate can be so cruel. “About nine villagers survived; they evacuated them. My grandmother was the only surviving child.”

Liza looked at the sky. The girl was amazed—everything here had been burned to ashes. And now tall trees grew, the stream murmured, birds sang, and green grass thrived. Does nature remember the horrors of that day? The sun blinded her. She doesn’t know how her grandmother survived, doesn’t know what happened to the other survivors. What came next? That will remain a mystery. Why?

Maybe some questions are better left unanswered...