There's one day that I'll remember for the rest of my life, and that day I found out about what happened to Anastasia. I only had a sliver of the book to go, and the chapter had started like all the others, and there was nothing out of the ordinary; why did I have a reason to believe this book could have an ending like this?
I was cross legged with the book in my lap in the corner of Inkling's library as always. But as I read farther and farther towards the end, the pages began to blur together the words seems to jump out. At the climax of the Russian Revolution, Anastasia and her family were put under house arrest, and moved first to Toblosk, then to Yekaterinburg, where she and her whole family were executed on July 17th, 1918; she was 17 years old. Seventeen. Younger than Dashi and Peso even. I never thought such a long book could've felt so short.
Inkling had this book for years before I got my paws on it; he very likely knew how Anastasia died. Soon enough, the soft pitter-patter of his tentacles could be heard, and he came over and took a seat by me.
"How's the book, my dear?" He asked, his warm tone didn't stir my cold, numb insides. I could only shake my head and point to the page I was on. He looked over the page and his eyes softened with sympathy, "I see."
"What did they kill her for?" The question, as well as my tone, shaky but blunt and plain, surprised me.
"She was the daughter of a powerful man, Jane. They were afraid of what she'd do if she ever came of age."
"How did they kill her?" The words tumbled clumsily out of my mouth. I wanted to know, but I was scared of what Inkling might say.
"I'll tell you when you're older, dear." He murmured and rubbed my back comfortingly, "It's not something I can bring myself to tell a nine-year-old."
For once, I couldn't argue with him, but he had other tricks up his sleeve.
"Let's keep reading, shall we?" He asked kindly, and I reluctantly nodded. I wanted to know what happened to her, but at the same time was too scared to see.
In the end, it turns out that the people who killed them had hidden the bodies in 2 graves, some of Anastasia's family and Anastasia and her brother, Alexei, in another. Years later in 1997, some people had found the bodies of Anastasia's family, but not those of Anastasia and Alexei.
The bodies were buried in the spot where they were killed, the Ipatiev House, but when Anastasia and Alexei were found in 2007, the government refused to let them be buried along with their family.
"Why?" I'd asked Inkling yet again, but he only smiled. When he began to speak, his mask cracked, and the anger was visible underneath, boiling hot and red, "They believed that if they still were in possession of the children's bodies, then they, the government that it, somehow would not be responsible for killing these children, and the children may act as martyrs for whatever blasted cause they had!"
I was stunned by the mix of Inkling's tone and his words. He must've noticed, because he wrapped his tentacles tighter around me, but a wild idea, like the ones I'd always come up with, popped into my head.
"What if we buried her?"
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Inkling and I clambered out of the Gup with the crumpled half-finished drawing of Anastasia clutched in my paw. Inkling had suggested I finish it, but I wanted to leave it the way it was. Her life was unfinished, so it made sense that the representation of her should be as well.
"This spot is perfect, great eye, my girl!" Inkling was beaming. The sun shone on the sea, making the water shimmer. It seemed too bright for what we were about to do. I carefully bent down and scooped up the wet sand in my paws to make a tiny little ditch. I pushed my finger in to make a hole that I then inserted the rolled up drawing into.
"Anything you want to say?" Inkling asked.
"No." I turned to look at him, "There's nothing we can say about this." He didn't press the matter further; but nodded and sat down by the "grave". There was nothing but the sound of the sea crashing upon the sand. A moment of silence for one of the brightest lights that have ever been. After a long while, it was time to get back in the Gup. As we were driving back, I asked Inkling,
"Where do you think Anastasia is now?" He sighed, but answered,
"I believe that when you die, you become a guardian to a baby that you choose to put on Earth, and it's a cycle."
"Who's she guarding then?"
"There's no doubt she chose you, my dear."
"You have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story."
YOU ARE READING
The Odd Sister Out
Fanfiction"The middle child has it worse" Janine Margot Doxter knows that this is a lie. Being the younger sister of Dashi and Koshi, who were known as inseparable, mystery-loving sisters in their hometown. Therefore, she has always been the third wheel to he...
