It's 1915. The second year of World War I. Two years since Mariá Crúz' brother has been gone. Two years since her Papaì has turned cold. And Mariá has had enough. It's time to prove that women can be warriors too.
Last updated: 28th August, 2023, 7:...
MARIÁ CRÚZ marked another day off of the calender. It had been two years since her Irmão, João Crúz, had left for the war.
And since her Papaì turned cold. It was now like she didn't exsist anymore. Mariá hated it. He even ignored Luciá.
Now it was the same every day. Mariá would walk to school after feeding Luciá, then walk back at three o'clock.
It was different then. She and João would walk to school with Luciá and walk back together, sometimes stopping by the bakery and café.
“Mariá!” Her Papaí's voice called her in, jolting her out of her thoughts. She stood up, brushed the dirt off her dress and rushed inside. She didn't want to make him mad for fear of Luciá's saftey.
Her Papaì just pointed to a cream coloured card. She recognized the handwriting instantly.
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João. Mariá thought. Her Papaí blew out a cigarette and put it in a beer bottle then pointed to a second card.
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Mariá sighed.
I guess I shouldn't have hoped so soon. She thought, dejectedly.
“Luciá's going to give birth soon.” Mariá said, trying to make conversation. Her brown curls fell down around her shoulders.
Her Papaì barked laugheter. Cold, cruel laughter.
“The Sousa's will take 'em. Take 'em and the bitch. And if they don't take 'em, they'll shoot 'em.” Mariá flinched.
“Maybe we could keep them?” Mariá suggested quietly.
“Keep 'em? Hah! You amuse me, girl. We have enough trouble taking care of one bitch, we ain't taking another. Now get lost.”
Mariá sighed and left quietly. Then, she heard the howls.
