Writer Games | Masquerade of Martyrs & Family Ties

Task Seven: Songs For A Better World /SF - Esmerelda Mae

Within the shadows of  the cavern, little Esmerelda lay on the floor surrounded by a lavender  haze. Her eyes had fluttered shut with chemical assistance, locking her  away from the world that surrounded her. Occasionally, her hand twitched  or she took a sharp breath in her unconscious state. A small frown  adorned her sleeping face. If anyone had come across her, they would  assume she had given up. However, Esmerelda was locked away inside of a  dream world that allowed her to smile.

She was finally content.

Within her mind,  Esmerelda was alone. The monsters of her nightmares no longer haunted  her, no threat of death to torment her until she know longer knew what  was real and what was her own imagination. Instead of being jailed  beneath layers of cold stone, she was surrounded by the familiar  branches of trees that shielded her from anything that had ever tried to  hurt her.

The blades of  dew-touched grass tickled her bare feet, a smile gracing her face as she  ran through the lush carpet. The moonlight, scattered by the comforting  branches, illuminated her face that was finally graced by a smile. She  looked up, expecting to be greeted by stone like always. She stared  wide-eyed through the canopy of green leaves, catching a glimpse of the  stars that watched her from their perch in the sky.

It had been so long  since Esmerelda had seen the sky; she had almost forgotten what stars  looked like. Her eyes lit up at the sensation of freedom, twinkling just  like the stars above her head. Wherever Esmerelda ran through the  trees, they followed her and made sure she was always safe. Like a  watching mother, they protected the young child as she embraced her rare  freedom. They flickered like candles, a warm glow embracing the child  like a hug.

Part of Esmerelda longed  to re-live her childhood and scamper up a tree. Then, she would be able  to touch the stars that allowed her to exist without constant panic.  However, she knew that there was a safer place, a place where she would  never have to worry about anything ever again. If only she could find  it, she would be happy for the rest of the time she was allowed to have.

With every tree she ran  past, she ran her fingers across the rough bark with a child-like  giggle. The smell of pine and damp leaves smelt like home, the welcoming  sensation of nature catching at the back of her throat and curing  everything the arena had done to her fragile mind and body. Eventually,  the glow of lights in the sky swelled to an unimaginable multitude that  made Esmerelda's heart flutter with excitement. Here, she knew she would  never have to kill.

These lights were not stars; they were lights through windows, a clear indication of home.

Although the forest  called to her with the gentle whispering of rustling leaves, Esmerelda  did not hesitate to make her way down the grassy hill towards the  houses. The wind rushed through her hair, which no longer seemed to be  matted with blood and general dirt. As she grew closer to the sea of  flickering windows, it became clear to the girl that the usual electric  lights that illuminated all of the houses had been replaced. Instead,  each house glowed with the gentle orange of candle light.

For a moment, Esmerelda  allowed herself to slow down, to think. The gentle scent of smoke  floated on the atmosphere, occasionally catching her throat but stirring  a memory that she had never cared to think of. This beautiful sight,  the small District of lumber lit only by flame, happened only once a  year. Each light represented a person, a life that had been taken as  easily as blowing out a candle.

Tonight was the night the District fell into a respectful silence to remember their fallen tributes.

Esmerelda had never  understood the solemn occasion, her childish side hating the quiet but  loving the lights she could watch from her bedroom window. However,  tonight she had never been so glad to see the depressing day once more.  No one had had to light a candle for her just yet.

Remembering the streets,  Esmerelda left delicate footprints in the grass pavements that she  walked along. Her house loomed on the horizon, the silhouette of her  mother lighting a candle in the window that had blown out in the gentle  wind. Once home was so close, Esmerelda broke into a run. She had  assumed she would never see her house again, only in death when her  corpse was taken home from the arena that terrified her so greatly.

Like always, the door  was unlocked. The scent of candle smoke tinted with the pine boughs her  mother always kept in a vase on the table floated out into the cold  street, almost as if it was waving her inside. The door swung shut  behind her, keeping in the heat of the fireplace and letting the light  flood around the room. Esmerelda's mother, usually strict towards her  daughter that refused to grow up, looked upon her daughter for a moment  in disbelief.

However, when the  situation finally made sense, her harsh expression softened to one of  happiness and love. With open arms, she gestured for Esmerelda to come  home. The young girl, still a child despite the horrors she had endured,  did not hesitate to bury herself in her mother's coarse dress.

If this was heaven, Esmerelda longed to be dead.