Time Line

"Don panic, jus bundle' em warmly. We need to take em as soon as possible." The night air was heavy, small bursts of rain coming down intermittently. Pine scented smoke hung eerily between trees and small buildings making an occasional dim light almost obscure, just a hazy pale yellow fog, like a mirage. The night birds cry could be heard lending ambiance to the surreal atmosphere.

"What will become of the small ones?"

"Ther be no time for that now"

"I love them so!"

"Hush now, if ya wanna get em away from here safely we have ta go now. Your Mum shou never of sent ya here, honor or no. I tell ya true girl, had it no ben for that man she be married to, I never of agreed to this. Canna know which is worse, him that would surely of killed em", the old womans face scrunched with a look of contempt, "or those who be comin'now to enslave us."

"Gran, but they said the war is over, been a year now."

"Bah, foolish girl, ya canna be payin' tention to thems that be tellin' that. They be the ones who sellin us to keep their fortunes, now be quick with ya."

Two darkly clad figures with bundles in there arms slipped out a cottage door and into the nights mist. Through the stones they passed looking as if they were monks or unearthly phantoms, then to the dirt streets which were deserted and lightless except for the soft illumination of the moon.

A small cottage stood somewhat forlorn at one end of a short road. Tall trees over hung the small cottage casting erie shadows in random patterns. Somewhere off in the distance a dog yelped.

Around to the back of the cottage two shadowy figures approached what looked like doors to a cellar or basement. A thin light trickled through a crack made by weathered doors that were not tightly closed. Little puffs of smoke clouded the air adding to the fog that began to fill the night.

A hand, wrinkled, weathered, aged, reached out from under a woolen cloak. Quietly the hand rapped once, hestitated, then once more. The trickle of light extinguished followed by a hollow creaking.

Muffled voices greeted each other, the figures disappearing inside, the trickle of light resumed its course as night bird cries became screeches and distant rumbling of orange yellow light shook the earth.

Gone now, the dark fog and imitation thunder, the familiar faces and woolen cloaks.

Two very small girls sit huddled together in the corner next to an old rock fireplace, rubble strewn all about. A large wood beam keeps them semi obsured from sight. The one child holds tightly onto the other, stroking her hair. Hushed sounds of a small child reassuring mingle with the quiet dank air.

Sparse calls from a hawk giving warning before swooping in on its prey brake the silence but there seems to be no one to notice.

Early morning light wafts its way through the debri, a rodent scurries across the rough rock floor.

Time has halted, the thing which the children are yet to young to have any comprehension. Small whispers eminate softly from what now resembles a tomb.

The rivers run red, with the blood we've shed.

Solely, we are to blame, for what we've done is

so insane.

Like the waning of the moon,

our lives pass by all too soon.

With in our hearts we must change,

if change is what we wish to effect.

Are You Missing?

Once Before Index

Art, graphics, prose and poetry are by Snowfire unless stated otherwise.