The Left Behind of War

The world did not end in a bang, or a whisper and begins in a flash of light and utter of words. But rather, one scream at a time.

It was pure chaos.

The thinning smoke slowly left the place revealing utter destructions everywhere their eyes looked. Neither whimper nor sounds can be heard of miles, only a deafening silence as it caresses their trained ears. Those impressive stoned houses built by high and mighty people now kneeled in defeat as the place was ravaged by war. As they swept their eyes, neither did they expected they will find a young girl in the middle of the mess.

They stared, speechless. Who is this girl?

'What?' she asked to stutter. Her unused vocal cord rasped the words out. It sounded like a hoarse gurgle of unintelligible sound.

She smacked her head mentally. Foolish! You should run away. What if they kidnap you, kill you or worst they wanted your body. But Dmitri continued to stare her down. How the hell is she still alive?

She squirmed from uneasiness. She felt, suddenly, that being the centre of attention of this man was not good. Sweat started to form as she continued to receive the older man's unwavering eyes on her. She felt so small in his presence. Her 4 foot 9 inches is nothing compared to his impressive 6 foot 9 inches height. She averted her eyes, fiddling with her old grey shirt, she looked anywhere but him. The man screamed of suppressed power and danger and that made her on edge, unlike his companion.

The silence stretched to minutes and that bothered her even more. The last time she experienced this silence was the time she last saw her parents and it was unnerving, seeing blood all over the wooden floor with her so-called parent's mutilated bodies adorning the place. She shivered.

"What's your name?", the tall man asked, interrupting her train of thoughts. Her amber eyes met his once more. She tilted her head in confusion.

Name?

She remained silent. Embarrassment blew. her fear away. She does not have one. Would they laugh? Names are a privilege given to children who were not deemed cursed or unwanted.

Her parents did not bother giving her any. She was just another unfortunate child borne under disastrous circumstances that led her to suffer condemnation by her own kin. Aside from the glaring fact that she's not normal with her ominous hair, they did not baptise the cursed child which she clearly belonged to. She never truly understand the hatred they have for her, only that the colour of her hair bring bad luck.

"I do not have." She answered slowly.

" What? You do not have a name? " The younger man shouted suddenly.

That high pitch is very much unusual for such a bulky man she noted. At first, she thought that he was only a small boy but distance really seems to deceive her. Setting aside his appearance, it rather gave him a rambunctious air with his wild blonde mane that complimented his forest green eyes making him all innocent and boyish, but never underestimate people cause they mastered the art of disguise for the sake of survival much she learned from her past.

She looks at the guy sharply. "What?" she asked sharply, her throat still unused to talking, gobbled the words out and she tried clearing her vocal cords.

"No. I mean that's weird. Everyone has a name." Looking thoughtful. He looked down at her with his unnerving green eyes. She does not like this guy, she decided.

Inhaling deeply, she focused her attention on the young man. A strange emotion passed her apathetic eyes before the young man could decipher the said emotion, it suddenly disappear leaving an empty shell of the said eyes hangs in her rather dirty face.

"And I'm telling you I do not have,' she pressed once more, 'I never had. So why do you keep on asking me?' Humans are tricky animals, much like her parents. One time they cared about her the other time they will think of her as the vilest individual that ever graced the universe. She learned to never trust and became emotionally independent of others because the only heartache awaits at the end.

And she's sick of it...

Pain.

She awaits his answer and when nothing she began to trudged away from them. She will not waste any more of her time talking to strangers. Forgetting the imposing man next to him, she continues her trek home, she needs to be home before sundown. She pointedly refuses to acknowledge the younger man's angry voice as she run-walk the rocky part of the field.

The sun is halfway disappearing in the western sky when she reached the pathway down to her nest. The howls and sounds of nightly creatures started to dominate the barren land. She walked briskly.

She checked her surroundings, the sinister darkness almost swallow the orange lilac sky as she tried to find her way inside the thick foliage of the bushes. She muttered a string of curses.

The night is never good.

The night is dangerous.

She turned left and then right, then through another set of bushes and entered hanging greenery, hiding a narrow passage to her small unused cottage in the middle of the clearing near a stream to its far right corner. The plain green grass expanse is cut off by the forest that extends far north of her home. She opens the rickety door, depositing herself immediately to the worn-down wooden chair. The darkness around the house calms her down. Closing her eyes, she found herself revisiting the earlier encounter.

Years had already passed and this place has never been the same. War, does not decide who is right, war decides who is left. The war tainted and decimated her home and made her homeless. To which she is grateful and resentful. No one wanted to take responsibilities and that took flatten her homeland. Maybe they are correct. She brought bad luck.

Ever since, no one step foot in this place after, not until now.

Why?

And the people that set afoot here are not ordinary either.

The old man is mysterious, never barely said anything, just observe. She felt discomfited. The young man, sure is talkative but the biggest question is;

Why are they here? The lull of the darkness pulled her to sleep and that was her last thought before losing consciousness. The chirping of the birds and the small light that escaped her curtains woke her up. She found herself crouched on her chair next to her wooden table. A small brown blanket covers her upper body which gives her enough warmth to not freeze to death.

The sudden cold early morning breeze chilled her taut muscles. She stretched her body allowing the cold air to tease her pale skin, sending shivers down her spine. She rubbed her hands together, stood up and started a fire.

Ah. What a fine morning.

If only she knows.

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