Lucie's Sacrifice

The earth shuddered, shaking the house to its very foundation, dust raining from the ceiling and the wooden boards and plaster creaking like old, tired bones. Lucie clutched her doll closer to her chest, burying her fingers in it’s small braids of cornsilk hair, pressing her face against it, breathing in the scent of Mama’s spicy perfume, that still clung to the fine strands. Lucie wailed as the house shuddered again, plaster cracking with the force of the bombs that rained down on the city, like a storm of falling, catastrophic angels. Her pale hands clutched her toy tighter against her nightgown as she dared a peak at her surroundings. Lucie could hear a slight ringing in her ears, a sound that appeared in the aftermath of a bomb that collapsed the east wing of her family's estate, leaving nothing more than rubble and the thick scent of burning wood, metal and tile intertwined with the sweet scent of Mama’s garden, now catching flames. Through the ringing, Lucie could hear the sound of her baby brother, only 14 months old wailing from his crib, across the kitchen and down the hall. He cried and cried, his tiny voice shrieking in fear and pain as he no doubt inhaled the stinging smoke. Mama and Papa were nowhere to be seen nor heard, and Lucie knew that James’ cries were for their mother. But Lucie, however young and small she was, was exceedingly smart and courageous and she knew- knew in her heart of hearts, that her mother would not be coming for them.. They had been in her fathers study,  at the first sign of the German forces, fetching cash and files from the safe,telling Lucie to grab her bag and prepare to meet them outside. When the bombs had dropped on the east wing, her parents likely would have been in the study. The study, Lucie knew, despite often getting lost in the grandeur of the mansion- the study was centered in the East wing, right in the middle, like a jewel set into a crown. 

The study set into the middle of the east wing, flanked a beautiful gallery where paintings hung from the walls and antique instruments shone in their cases. It was Lucie's favorite part of the house, so full of quiet peace and beauty. Her father's study was the best; unlike the cold beauty of the gallery, it radiated all of his warmth, the scent of cigars and paper, books lining the walls from floor to ceiling, embossed spines winking at her- out of reach for now. Best of all, an entire wall of the study was dedicated to a mural of a gorgeous landscape set behind alabaster pillars, as if the viewer looked upon the land from a castle high above, crawling with flowering vines, a gleaming river shining like a silver thread, darting through the rolling hills below. It was exactly what Lucie’s imaged Wales to look like, a plush countryside, a wonderscape full of green earth and lovely trees and hills. Her father had promised to take her there for her tenth birthday- a mere week from now.

James wailed again, his reedy voice thin and scratchy from the smoke and fear. James, her sweet baby brother, with a headful of dark brown curls and giant grey eyes framed in dark lashes set into his chubby face, like their mothers gentle gaze. Lucie steeled herself, thinking of her mothers gray eyes meeting Lucie's own, hearing her voice tell her of the mighty dragons and fae of Wales, blood that her mother claimed ran in Lucie's veins.

Lucie called upon the courage of the dragons and the swiftness of the fey nymphs and scrambled from beneath the table where she had taken cover, tearing across the kitchen as bombs whistled by overhead and the thunder of their impact shook the earth. Lucie skidded down the corridor, the tension in the air as thick as tar. Her breath was a ragged knife in her lungs. Her feet pounded on the hallway tiles, her hair standing up on her nape, as she threw open the door to the nursery and a bomb exploded just outside the window.

Anna threw open the door to the nursery, a gleeful giggle slipping out of her mouth as she craned her head over the bars of the crib at her little sister, who cooed, gray eyes flaring with delight and reached up with her tiny, moon white hands to tug on a lock of her sisters curling dark hair. 

“Hello BabyLuli.” Anna crooned at the infant, tickling her belly with her fingertips. Anna carried the baby to the changing table, making quick work of her dirty diaper while the baby squirmed in the warm patch of sunlight that filtered in through the open window. Anna inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of the gardens of the estate and froze. What was that she scented on the breeze? A hint of toxic smoke fluttered through the air, as if from a fire of burning plaster, wood, and tiles.  Anna strode to the window, searching for any sign of fire but there was no hint of danger to be seen and Anna inhaled deeply again, and was greeted with only the lovely scent of the earth.

Shrugging, Anna thumbed her phone out of her pocket, turning on a playlist of baby songs that always made Lucilla burble in joy, and quickly dressed the baby. Anna picked up the child, preparing to leave the room when the baby let out a small wail and reached an uncoordinated hand over Anna’s shoulder. Anna turned, grabbing the antique doll that Luli so dearly loved from her crib and offering it to the child, who, apon snatching it away from Anna, was one again the picture of childish joy. Anna snorted and they left the nursery, Luli chewing absentmindedly on the braids of patchy cornsilk hair that the doll sported.

Anna walked down the hall to the kitchen, bare feet padding down the long hallway. From the kitchen drifted the aroma of eggs and bacon, the pop and sizzle of the food in the pan audible even from down the hall. Anna inhaled deeply- and choked on a cough. The heavy stench of smoke burned her lungs, sharp as a knife. Luli seemed to notice too as she let out a tiny cough and buried her face into the doll's hair, clutching it tightly. Anna quickened her pace, ducking into the kitchen. Nothing was burning and the cook smiled cheerfully at them. Shrugging, Anna set Lucilla on the ground and the baby began to scoot around the tile floor, Anna keeping a careful eye on her.

She clicked through her phone, smiling at the images in her gallery. A week from today, six years ago, Anna had gone to the home of her ancestors, Wales. There was an image of a younger Anna grinning, in front of the statue of a Welsh nymph carved from white marble. A nymph whose likeness was that of Anna’s, curling hair tumbling around her shoulders, almond eyes and a pert nose centered in a square face. Petite, as Welsh women often were, though far more curvy than young Anna had been. Anna thought the woman looked alot like her mother; nearly identical truthfully. It made sense; her mother was the daughter of their grandfather, who along with his long dead sister had been half Welsh. 

Anna's great grandmother had come from a long line of Welsh people, and had moved to this very estate after falling in love with a British man. The estate had been wrecked during World War Two, during the German bombing known as the Blitz, but had been rebuilt upon the same foundations, parts of the house original house still survived, though visited infrequently. 

Anna’s scrolling stopped as the pots and pans clattered on the stove and she looked up just in time to see the cook's foot catch on the edge of a chair that baby Lucilla had been playing beneath. She reached out a hand to steady herself and Anna watched in horror, the world moving in slow motion, as the cook made to grip the antique gas stove, burning her hand, the sizzle of her flesh against the burner, sending chills down her spine. The cook yelled in pain and snatched her hand back as she fell-right onto the hose that led the gas tanks into the stove. The hose ripped free from the tank, the air sharp with the smell of gas. 

Luli coughed against the smell of gas being released in the air. Anna dropped her phone and dove for the hose, trying to push it back into the tank, but it was broken and gas continued to leak from it. She tried to turn off the valve, but her hands trembled and slid off the handle, which was sticky  with age. The smell of gas was cloying now and Anna lept for the stove to turn off the fire, but it was too late, flame began to roil in the room full of gasoline, and Anna threw herself over the baby as it exploded through the kitchen in roiling waves of heat.

The windows of the nursery exploded inward as the sound of the bomb rendered Lucie nearly unconscious, the ringing in her ears louder than her pounding heart. She flew to her brother's crib and yanked James out who was mewling in fear, his skin hot, but protected partially by the heavy blanket that had been covering him. The bomb had dropped in the gardens, close enough to shatter the windows and send waves of heat through the house but Lucie knew it was only a matter of time before the rest of the house was reduced to rubble. She clutched her brother, the doll pressed between them and took off, not sure exactly where to go, but knowing that the manor was not safe. Outside she could hear people screaming and the noxious smell shoved itself down her throat as she rushed through the dark hallways, trying to find an exit in the labyrinth of the house. If she could just get outside, there would be no danger of the house collapsing atop them and she could get her James to the ambulances that screamed through the streets.

After what seemed like hours, Lucy found a hallway that seemed familiar and from there she found the heavy oak doors of the estate down the smoke darkened hallway. She sprinted to it, half dragging him toward the exit. The doll that had been pressed between them cluttered to the ground and Lucy let out a sob as she watched the only piece of her mother she had left hit the ashy floor. No, not the only piece. James, the baby in her arms, was the last living bit of evidence she had that her beautiful mother lived and loved. She continued on, leaving the doll on the floor behind her, promising to return to it, hearing her mothers voice in her head saying “Take this my love. It was mine when I was little and my mother before me. It will protect us.”

Debris rained around her as she pushed open the doors of the manor with a strength she hadn't known she possessed. Down the steps, into the gardens, the air clearing slightly. She tucked the baby into the bushes, shushing him as he wailed weekly, and sprinted back toward the manner until she had entered the house once again, the doll lying where she had dropped it, blond hair shining like a beacon. She snatched it up and turned to make her decent back to the gardens. She was nearly there when tension cut the air, her hairs raised and she knew that a bomb would explode soon. She prayed that it wouldn't be near James, prayed she would make it back to him. She neared the front door, the wrecked city  visible through the open door, when, with a bone rattling crash, the entryway, the hallway and every piece of the house within 80 feet of Lucie crumbled and rained down atop her, leaving only death behind as fire raced through the estate.

Fire and heat scorched Anna’s back, causing her to cry out in pain as she cradled Lucilla, the doll pressed between her chest and her baby sister. Anna leapt up, Luli and the doll scooped in her arms as flames crackled over the kitchen and began to spread down the hall. She raced from the room, ignoring the searing pain along her back, each step agonizing. The house shook as presumably another gas tank exploded somewhere. Heat roiled in waves through the hallway, and Anna cursed the estate for being so giant, the entrance for being so far away. She rounded a corner and stopped short. Flames engulfed the corridor from both sides, creeping ever closer, the heat stifling. Sweat burned the injuries along Anna’s back and she looked around wildly. She couldn’t breath, the smoke suffocating her and Lucilla, who was coughing too much to even cry. The smoke smelled like a burning house; like the sickening scent of plaster and wood and cement and everything that should not be burning.

Anna sunk to the floor, the tile hot against her legs, and rocked baby Luli, trying to offer her sister some comfort, trying to hide the impending horror from the infants wise gray eyes. 

“Mama?” A voice echoed, seeming to snake through the hallway. “Mama?” The voice asked again- clear, lilting- a child's voice. It couldn't be Luli, she could hardly talk but who- Anna lifted her head as a brush of cool air graced her sweaty skin. In front of Anna, in an old nightgown, untouched despite the roaring fire, stood a girl. The child, no more than 10, seemed dazed. Anna peered closer through the smog at her pale face, framed in dark curls, and massive gray eyes peering at Anna and Luli.

“Who are you?” Rasped Anna, but the girl just shook her head as if clearing a fog from her mind. She ventured closer and Anna noted with growing confusion, that she could see the  roaring flames through the girl.

 “You're not Mama.” She said, but she didn't seem angry or upset, only as if she was confirming something to herself. “I’m Lucie, your...great Aunt, I suppose.” She said. Anna’s head was too heavy to say anything back as the girl reached a small hand to Anna, beckoning her to follow. “Come. I will help you.” 

Unsure of why she obeyed, Anna clambered to her feet and made to follow her. She was walking toward the fire at the end of the hall. Anna watched, awestruck as the girl- Lucie, stretched a hand toward the crackling flames and warped walls and ceilings, and the fire parted like an ocean and vanished in a blink. The girl turned, her face strained, gray eyes far older, wiser, and more sorrowful than any adolescents should be. Anna staggered upright, feet carrying her toward the exit, the flames nowhere to be seen. She ran, the phantom girl a wisp of white skin and dark hair beside her, matching her stride despite Anna being considerably larger. The entrance to the house was clear now and the phantom girl flung out a hand, without a sound. A gust of cold wind blew past them and the doors rattled but remained shut. Anna tried to grab the handle but it was nearly with heat. She cried out in frustration and tried again, singeing her palm. She pleadingly turned to face the phantom. Lucie leaned toward Anna, deep grief darkening her gray eyes, inches away from Anna’s brown ones, until their foreheads touched, Lucie’s freezing and insubstantial against Anna’s sweaty, dirty skin. Anna closed her eyes, as cold washed over her and when Anna opened them, Lucie was gone. Pain lanced down the left side of her face, and her hearing dimmed in one ear, ringing overriding the sound of the crackling fire. 

Shaking off the pain, Anna tried the handle again, it sizzled against her palm but Anna flung the door open, as if spurred by a rush of power. They tumbled out into the driveway until they reached the street where the firetrucks wailed in the distance, fast approaching. Anna put Luli on the ground, the baby far too exhausted and sick from the smoke to go anywhere and turned to the phantom, but she was nowhere to be seen. Anna looked around wildly, the ringing in her left ear disorienting her. She wanted to thank Lucie, but she saw no sign of her. Anna stooped to pick up Luli and the doll, but the doll had disappeared as well. Anna was sure she hadn't dropped it, but when she scanned the driveway that led to the house, now collapsing in on itself, it was nowhere to be seen. Luli didn't seem to notice, she simply chewed on a lock of Anna’s hair weakly, as the fire trucks arrived. The firemen lept from the truck to help the girls, and as they led Anna toward the stretcher, she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective chrome of the truck. Her pale face was streaked with ash and tears, her arms and back covered in blistering, angry burns, her hair a singed mess. The ringing in her ears heightened as she took in her face, so like her mothers, her grandfathers and her great grandmothers. So like her long dead great Aunt, who had died saving her Grandfather, James. So similar, save for her eye color, which was brown in comparison to the dark gray that her ancestors and little sister sported. Her eyes had been brown at least, for her right eye remained her own rich chocolate color, but her features split, her left eye now a sorrowful, piercing gray.