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Rough Draft of Rihannon's Past
"You still have so much to learn."
Kira gave the older woman a reproachful look.
"Hey, I've been doing this for ten years now; I didn't start out a cold blooded killer like you or the other reapers! You have no idea what I went through before all this, I've got morals and I'll be damned if I break them!"
The vibrant green eyes of Rihannon met the faded blue ones of Kira; the young reaper couldn't help but notice that even though the woman before her had the appearance of someone in their mid twenties, her eyes looked wise beyond their years.
"Do you honestly believe we all started out that way? You never took a life, yet here you are. You know nothing about me and you will not group me together with everyone else because we all have our own story."
The sudden silence was broken as the howling wind rushed past them, tousling the silver hair of the young woman’s and the red curls that belonged to the 19th century witch.
“Okay, so I jumped the gun a little bit; sue me I didn’t know.”
The quiet continued as Rihannon stared out into the night sky, enjoying the time off the had by sinking back into the make of her mind, the sweet memories of her life she had before her death and introduction into the world of reaping.
“So what’s your story?”
Kira asked and brought her from her thoughts; she glanced at the silver haired woman once before turning back.
“Since when did my life have any interest to you?”
A childish smile tugged at her lips.
“Aww come on Mommy, tell me a bedtime story.”
She teased, but the other woman was hardly amused; she continued to stare at the full moon that hadn’t changed in two hundred years. That was what she liked about the moon, it always stayed the same; unlike the earth that was constantly changing for the worse.
“My ‘story’ is no child’s fairytale.”
The reaper shrugged.
“I never expected it to be, besides you owe me; you know my story but I don’t know yours.”
The woman didn’t respond and the childish reaper was about to give up when she he redhead spoke.
“I was born and raised in the Netherlands in a remote area where Christianity was not the dominant religion. My village was one made of pagans, witches, and wiccans and for fifteen years it was peaceful, but all that changed when a priest came. He wanted to convert us, saying that we were sinners and followers of Satan; when none of us listened he left and we thought nothing more of him until…”
“They’re coming! The army is coming!”
The cry rang out through the whole village as their hunters sprinted back with all they had. There was an instant state of panic as everyone scrambled to save themselves and their belongings. Rihannon followed her mother back into their home where her younger brother lay sleeping.
“Eiran! Eiran! You must get up! Solders come and you must get out of here!”
The moment his green eyes opened she yanked him to his feet, grabbed his hand and ran out of the home.
“Rihannon! Grab the books!”
She knew what her mother was talking about; the books that contained all of their teachings, spells, prayers, and other such things passed down from their ancestors. She hastily grabbed them and ran out the door. All around her was chaos; the people she had grown up with were fleeing for their lives, running around like ants. She tired to find her mother and brother, but she couldn’t; the teenager stood there like a deer in the headlights, clutching the books with all her might, and looking so alone.
“Rihannon!”
She whipped her head around and saw her mother running towards her.
“Quickly! To the horses!”
She picked up her dress to give her a faster way of running and followed after the woman who gave her life. They got to the stables; Eiran was already on top of their only horse, waiting for his family with terror strewn across his face. Without any warning the teenager was lifted onto the horse; she turned and saw her mom untie the rope that held the horse in its place.
“Head west to the next village and ask for refuge, they cannot refuse you since it is part of our teachings!”
“But what about you?!”
The young boy cried and saw tears rolling down the woman’s cheeks; she grabbed her son’s hand and gave him a forced smile.
“I will follow later; this horse is becoming too old, it can run faster if there are only you two on top of it.”
She turned to her daughter and grabbed her hand.
“Take care of your brother.”
At the moment Rihannon knew she would never see her mother again; she opened her mouth to say something when a gunshot was heard and the panic through out the village morphed into anarchy.
“Go! Go now!”
With all her being she wanted nothing more than to stay, but against that she turned the horse around and galloped it out of the stable and headed west to the village by the sea, leaving behind her carefree life and closest family. The horse reached the top of a distant hill and only then did the teen turn the horse around. Fire consumed her village, gunshots, the cries of humans and animals filled her ears. A few people ran past her on foot.
“Rihannon, what going to happen to Mother?”
The boy asked as he stared down upon the carnage; she was silent as she turned the horse around and headed into the forest.
“She is with the Mother Goddess now.”
He knew what that meant and silently cried for their loss. It took them several days to get to the village, but when they arrived, it was in ruin. The army had struck here first; a few villagers were left, trying to go on with life, but it was impossible now, their fields were burned and most people were either dead or fled to somewhere safe. All hope was lost.
“A ship is coming during the next full moon. It’s going to America.”
A few of the survivors talked amongst themselves and the teen could help but overhear; she had heard stories of the Land of Opportunity. Many people had fled there and were safe from persecution; so she decided to sell their horse for passage on the ship for America.
“Eiran and I escaped the armies, we thought we could live our lives openly, but we were wrong.”
Kira who had been silently listening spoke up.
“What happened next?”
Rihannon sighed and looked up at the stars and then at the reaper.
“That’s enough for today. I have to go to work soon.”
They both stood up and looked down upon the city with its blinding lights and filthy streets.
“Same time tomorrow?”
The silver hair woman asked.
“I suppose.”
She replied in an indifferent tone and was given a playful grin in return.
“It’s a date.”
The witch rolled her eyes and left.
“For someone who was raised in the gutters, you sure do have a strange grasp on reality.”
“Thank you.”
Sooo... what do you think?
Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift. - Mary Oliver |
