Attic Vista

The lightning danced across the sky. It forked out toward itself, nearly touching. Thunder boomed from the heavens and rattled everything natural and manmade. Nothing could avoid Nature’s onslaught. Trees appeared to huddle to avoid the whipping winds. Flowers tucked within themselves for protection. Animals found refuge in caves, under outcroppings, and among the trees to wait for the angry storm to pass.

The rain whipped like a dervish against the large stone house. Tree limbs were forced against the hard stone. Wind slammed into the structure. Yet those within heard it as a distant dance of nature.

The nursery did not rock from the vicious storm. Only the shadows caused by the lightning flashed on the floor, on the walls, on the crib, and on the man who stood next to it.

He watched the baby fuss before she fell into a deep slumber. Her long lashes settled down onto her soft cheeks. The lips pursed in an innocent bow. Tiny hands lay still with only the slightest twitch every now and then.

Dark hair hung over his forehead. Dark eyes laced with silver roamed over the small child. A smile tugged at his lips. So much promise was nestled within the child who innocently slept amidst the troubles that brewed around them all. Nothing touched her. Nothing disrupted her. Hope lay within her. The future was housed within that small form. He chuckled softly. An annoyance might just be the very key to his success.

The door to the nursery flew open. His wife strode in with her dark blonde hair flowing wildly behind her. The look on her face was one to strike fear into anyone but him. Her brown eyes bore into him where he stood over the crib.

“What are you up to?” she cried out.

“Lower your voice,” he whispered and pointed at the child in the crib.

She rushed up to him and glanced down at the child and frowned. The small chest moved slightly. Taking in a deep breath, she gained control of her anger. It would do no good to wake the sleeping babe. Her face softened just slightly at the sight of her child.

She looked back at her husband and with renewed determination walked out of the room. Her hand flickered in an order for him to follow her. He gave the baby one last loving look and followed her. He would give her a small win.

She didn’t stop until they had reached their own room several doors down the hall. The door stood open. She walked through the entry and across the room to the window where the rain pelted against the glass and waited on him to close the door. When the door clicked shut, she turned on him and cried out, “Is it true? Tell me it’s not!”

Reaching up to unbutton his shirt, he answered, “Depends on what you are talking about.” His voice stayed even as though he had responded to a question about the storm outside.

“I read your journal.” Her words came out full of accusation.

He paused and gave a short nod. “Ah, that. Well, then yes, it is true.” His voice remained calm.

Anger morphed into shock. Her lips trembled as she asked, “How could you? They are our dearest friends.”

He sat down on the bed and removed his shoes one by one. “Friends who don’t know what they are doing.”

“They are looking out for the whole community.” She turned to point out the window and the people who lay beyond.

He slammed one shoe to the floor. His eyes blazed. “They are ignoring what I can give them.”

She turned back to him and placed her hands on her hips. “And what is that?”

His lips curled into a sadistic smile. “Power! We could be what we once were in this world.”

Shaking her head, she whispered, “It’s too dangerous. You’ve heard the concerns they have.”

Santos walked over to his wife and cupped her face in his calloused hands. “That is why I must take over. I need to lead them where we are destined to be. We need to create a world our child will flourish in.”

Tears trickled down her cheek. “No, I won’t let you.”

Her husband laughed. “You can’t stop me.” With that, he kissed her roughly.

She sobbed.

The storm passed. The thunder waved farewell from the distance. Raindrops fell to the ground only from the trees. The moon played a game of hide and seek with the fleeing clouds as the dawn crept closer.

She closed the door quietly. Not even the sound of the bolt sliding into place disturbed the early morning air. She pulled the child tight against her and hurried down the driveway. Her hair had been tied hurriedly into a thick braid. One bag over her shoulder hastily filled. They had to escape fast. Time was of the essence.

The sun was still below the horizon. Only the fleeting glimpses of the moon lit her way. Dew lay heavy on the ground. The crunch of gravel from her feet was the only sound in the dawn.

She didn’t make it to the end of the driveway before she was brought up short by the dark figure that stood in her way. A gasp escaped her.

She stopped and hugged her child closer. A small whimper escaped the sleeping infant from the tight embrace. “Please no, Santos!” Her eyes begged him.

He raised his head to reveal a malicious smile. “I told you not to defy me, darling.”