the other side
It's a cold and lonely night. A little girl wanders around outside. Alone, aimlessly.
The full moon eerily shines down on her from above; the thick and moist fog embracing her tiny, fragile frame gently, almost lovingly. She is holding her arms tight to her chest, back and neck hunched over forward, and her gaze lowered down towards the gravel. She watches her feet move in front of her as she playfully hops along the sidewalk.
Step. Step. Step. Step. Almost like a game of hopscotch.
Though never having been here before, the girl can tell that something is not right about this place, but she cannot quite put her finger on it. Her body feels cramped. Her heart feels small. An ever so slight uneasiness silently travels through her veins.
She lifts her head and looks around.
Something about these abandoned streets, these fog engulfed trees, even the moonlight pouring down on her, gives her a familiar feeling. A warm and safe kind of familiar. Still, deep down she knows she should not be here. She is not welcome here.
Then again, where did she even come from? She does not remember. It is like her mind was blank before she arrived here.
Where are these streets leading? She does not know. But the innocent curiosity of whatever lies ahead keeps her going.
Through the dense fog, by a big oak tree, she spots what must be candlelight coming from a church nearby. Hurriedly, she approaches it, hoping to find refuge from the relentlessly cold autumn wind. The closer she gets, the further she can see into the open entrance of the church. The doorsteps leading inside are brightly lit with an equal number of white candles, six in total, arranged symmetrically on each step. They perfectly illuminate the way in. An unexpectedly welcoming and inviting sight in the midst of the dark and dreary woods. She smiles excitedly, hastily heading towards the entrance of the building - but her plan to enter the sanctuary got interrupted by a woman suddenly stepping outside the church and down the stairs, blocking the way in. The girl stops in her tracks, a small distance away from the woman, carefully observing her appearance.
She is a beautiful, tall, young woman, wearing a white dress that is so long it reaches all the way down to the ground. Her garment appears shabby and stained, the sleeve and skirt fabric partly ripped. She carries her long, straight brown hair over each of her shoulders. The woman's gaze is steadily pointed straight ahead into the distance, carrying a cold and emotionless expression on her face. The pale moonlight reflects in her lurid, grayish eyes and it seems as though she hasn't noticed the child yet. This, or she conciously avoids acknowledging her presence.
For some reason, the child feels warmth and safety being around this person. She has never seen the woman before in her life, and yet she somehow feels familiar.
The little girl shuffles a small step forward to take a closer look at the person in front of her. She notices her holding a sharp, shiny object in her right hand, gripping it tightly in with her fingers.
Still, the girl is not afraid of the woman. She feels like she can trust her. She wants to trust her.
A swift breeze blows out two of the candles on the stairs behind the woman, as she finally spares the creature in front of her a glance. At first, excitement and curiosity lights up in the face of the little girl. The woman's gaze now locking with hers though gives her a rather strange feeling in the pit of her tiny stomach. Like she should be scared. Hide away. Like she belongs here, yet should leave this place, immediately. But she cannot find a name for the strange mix of emotions she is now feeling. It is neither fear, nor warmth, nor something in-between. The woman's eyes emit a certain dullness and indifference that the child struggles to interpret.
The wind extinguishes another candle. Some of the dying orange and brown leaves on the trees around the church start rustling.
Increasingly uncertain, but keeping a trusting smile on her face, the girl approaches the woman a bit further. She keeps looking into her blank, straight face, hoping to soon figure out who she is and why she is here.
The girl stops about two feet in front of her, eagerly waiting for any reaction.
Now, the woman takes a few steps towards the child, glancing over her tiny, weak and fragile body.
A gush of wind puts out yet another candle, leaving the remaining two on the first step lit. The woman takes a sharp and rapid breath in and out, her eyes narrowing in disdain. The girl's innocent smile slowly drops and she looks at the person in front of her in confusion.
Why is she so upset?
The uneasy feeling rushes back into her little body. Her heart feels small again. Even smaller than before. Her heartbeat is so quiet and faint. So barely alive, yet full of life at the same time. Maybe the woman just cannot hear it, despite standing right in front of her. Maybe that is why she is so cold and hostile towards her. Maybe she thinks her heart is too small to break.
The child tilts her head to the left, looking past the woman and towards the church entry again. There is one more candle lit now, barely illuminating the stairway enough for her to see anything from the inside anymore. The woman snarls angrily, leaning to the side and covering the child's view with her body. The little girl takes a step back in confusion.
Why is the woman not letting her through? What made her so upset?
How is it possible she looks resentful, yet somehow sad at the same time?
And most importantly, makes her seem to hate this child so much?
What did this innocent creature ever do to her?
The woman stands up straight again, her expression turning more and more furious and belligerent. The wind starts howling and whistling mercilessly, and the child watches as it steals every last remaining leaf from the trees around them. When the church's bells begin to toll, the last candle finally loses its battle to the forces of the wind.
The little girl suddenly feels it. She knows.
She looks up to the woman again, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping open slightly:
“… Mama? “
The child, for a brief moment, sees what she believes is a glimmer of regret reflecting within all the malice and hatred in the woman‘s eyes.
Now, trumping the tiny body of the child, she raises her arms, grabbing the sharp object with both hands above her head. Her mimic abruptly returned back to its initial blankness, now with an almost unnoticeable smirk on her lips, as she softly, but audibly whispers:
“…My body… My choice.”
