The rain began before dawn.
Not the gentle kind that whispered against rooftops and lulled children back to sleep. This rain arrived like a punishment from heaven, cold and relentless, turning the earth into mud and the sky into a sheet of endless gray.
Mishka stood alone beside a freshly dug grave.
His shoes were soaked.
His clothes clung to his skin.
But he felt nothing.
The world around him had become distant, muffled beneath the sound of falling rain and the weight crushing his chest.
The wooden coffin rested beneath the earth.
His mother was gone.
Gone.
The word refused to make sense.
Just three days ago she had been alive.
Three days ago she had brushed his hair back from his forehead and told him that no matter how cruel the world became, he must never let it steal the kindness from his heart.
Now she was dead.
And kindness felt like the cruelest joke of all.
The villagers had already left.
No one wanted to remain in the storm.
No one wanted to stand beside the grave of a poor widow and her son.
No one except Mishka.
He stared at the muddy mound.
Waiting.
Praying.
Begging for something.
A sign.
A voice.
A miracle.
Anything.
But nothing came.
Only rain.
Only silence.
Only the growing certainty that he was completely alone.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Mishka turned.
An elderly priest stood behind him.
His weathered face carried an expression that was equal parts pity and sadness.
"You should go home, son."
Mishka laughed.
The sound surprised even him.
It didn't sound human.
It sounded broken.
"I don't have a home anymore."
The priest's expression darkened.
Because they both knew it was true.
The small cottage where Mishka had lived with his mother wasn't theirs.
The land belonged to a wealthy merchant who had allowed them to stay only because Mishka's mother worked herself nearly to death cleaning houses and sewing clothes.
Now that she was gone, no one would allow him to remain.
The priest looked away.
A silent admission that he could offer no solution.
No help.
No hope.
Only sympathy.
And sympathy didn't fill empty stomachs.
YOU ARE READING
Mishka
General FictionMISHKA The day Mishka buried his mother, he lost everything. Alone, homeless, and desperate to survive, he was kidnapped and sold across the sea as a slave. Upon arriving in a foreign country, he was purchased by a wealthy man, only for his new owne...
