The soft autumn breeze nursed her to sleep, the little girl napping quietly in her king sized bed, cuddling her fluffy teddy bear. The dust, golden, shimmering, dancing under the sunlight like tiny fairies partying in silence. The little girl napped in harmony, in peace, in silence. Then a violent shake forced her eyes open. Before her was no longer her grand mansion, no longer in her cozy room; the candles flickered in the winter wind, her mother shivered. She looked around with confusion; she saw the lines of pews, the delicate stained glass, and at last the altar she sat against. She hadn’t eaten for days, yet she felt no hunger. The winter wind was blasting through the crevices, yet she couldn’t feel the cold, nor could she feel warmth. She turned to face her mother, who was wearing her all time favorite mink fur coat, though her lips were tinged blue with cold. Her face was nearly as pale as the snow, just as if she has aged 30years within the last 3 days.
It was November 1917; when the little girl ran with her mother, praying for shelter, begging for food. Like rats they scattered down the streets they used to parade up, in exchange for the confetti, sparks of fire fell upon the streets. The loud marching band that she used to love was replaced by the dreadful sound of explosions. They ran for days, and when the sun they would stop to shelter in the remainders of the dead. They ate every crumb available, they drank every drop possible and yet they were fading away. They would beg people for warmth but in return they would only hear slamming of doors. The two of them ran; miles after miles and day after day, and at last they came to the church.
“Do you think they would hide in here?” A voice spoke from the other side of the door.
“Alright, my dear, Rani run. Batushka and matushka will always be with you. Now go.” Her mother looked calmer, she had determination in her eyes, she had strength in her arms, she was mum. The voices opened the door, the little girl had to turn to go, her mother glanced at her mouthing the word ‘go’. The little girl was unable to move an inch; she stood there in the corner as she watched her mother place the memorial candles on the altar. The owners of the voices came in, they were armed with powerful weapons, the sound of their boots echoed down the aisle. Her mum stood upon the altar firmly, calmly. She smiled. The flames slowly ate up her all time favorite mink fur coat, she laughed. It wasn’t long until the silent fire consumed the whole body. She screamed. The heart of the Rani’s shattered, tears streamed down her face, she cried, she screamed, in silence. The men backed away from the flames fearing the fire. She watched as the fire started to consume everything in sight, it swallowed every bit of the church, every corner. Yet she stood there, unharmed.
She felt a shook, her mind climbed back into her head; she did as she was told. Trembling, Rani made it out of the back door; she dragged herself across the long streets where despair was all that was left. Snowflakes descended from the heavens, like angels they twirled, like hope they shimmered; they danced with brilliance. They once brought laughter among children; they now gently put them to sleep. She had no destination, she had no thought, she didn’t turn to look, and she walked on with no life. Rani slowly approached the park her parents used to take her for picnic. The same trees stood there, yet the fruits were different. She walked towards it; she went under the big oak tree, the same tree they used to gather under on a warm spring day. She leant against it, the same branches that protected her from the beaming sun, protected her from the blazing wind. Closing her eyes, she lay there: still, silently, sleeping.
The dark slowly consumed her, eating her from within; she no longer saw the strange fruits that hung from the trees; she no longer heard the weeping widows; she no longer felt the tickling snow. She fell asleep, a deep sleep where she dreamt of a little girl napping quietly in her king sized bed, cuddling her fluffy teddy bear…
“Aye mate, you think she’s dead?”
“Looks so…”
They gave Rani a shake.
No sound came out, not a single muscle moved, no, she lay there still. And that’s when her heart skipped its last beat.