Chapter 1
I didn’t know why I decided to stop at that thrift store in the first place.I had headed out in search of a little gift to give my sister on her birthday. I was a little low on cash...so there I stood, stating at a little wooden puppet. She wore a traditional pink silk blouse and saree(Indian traditional attire) and was adorned with lots of ornaments. Her one hand held her pink veil with a golden lace and the other held her large necklace. It didnt look like it was used much and I could swear the eyes had a sparkle to them which made this bridal doll seem unique. I decided on my purchase and left for home. I kept the puppet in my shelf.
I was about to head for dinner when the phone rang. It was John.
“Did you ask your mom bro? Would you be able to make it to practise tomorrow?” ,said the voice on the other side.
“I cant...John. I know they would never allow me. They would just start shouting and I cant take it anymore.”
“Stop being a coward Robin. Try talking to them dude.”
“I am not sure. But yea...I will try”. I ended the call.
Let me tell you now that I am not one for Maths or Science. I am a born actor. I am in love with transforming myself into someone else and living his life. Be it a prince charming, a courageous warrior, a bossing executive, I could easily put myself in any situation on stage. There was this play coming up at school and John, the director of the play, wanted me in the lead role. But my parents had a different idea. They felt my flare for the stage was a major distraction on my path to ‘academic success’. I tried talking them into letting me go, but I would have spent my time better talking to my bedside lamp. At least it wouldn’t have grounded me for a week. I felt I needed to get my headphones and listen to some music. It always calmed me down.
I woke up to the sound of ringing anklets and followed them into the kitchen.
‘Maria is at it again. I really wish I could see the look on her face when I catch her gobbling up my cookies red handed!’ I thought.
But when I reached the kitchen, she threw open the backdoor and slipped into our backyard. Though I couldnt see her, her anklets gave her away. I ran out too.Sure, it was dark outside but I was it wasn’t Maria, unless my 8 year old sister grew into my age suddenly and changed into a pink silk saree with a light pink veil and wore ornaments as if it were her wedding day.I knew I was stupid but I impulsively called out to whoever it was.
“Hey you! What are you doing in our backyard??”
She turned. Her fair skin glowed in the soft moonlight. Her lips were bright red and her sharp eyes stood out with the heavy eye makeup. Her dark black hair hung loose over her shoulders behind the veil. She ran upto me, held my hand tight, and continued running. A chill ran down my spine.
“Wait...let me go! Where are you taking me?” I shivered.
“I will... I will tell you warrior! Our land needs us!”
I couldnt understand what she was or what she meant by calling me a 'warrior'. The night was cold and a cool wind brushed past us, playing with her veil and making her tighten her grip on my wrist. Her fingers, painted with red mehandi (a herbal red paste that Indian brides usually use to paint their hands with for their wedding) dug into my skin making me twist in pain. She seemed tense and darted towards the woods behind our house. And I? I stared into the darkness hoping it was all a very bad dream...or was it?
