Under the gray autumn sky like a huge steaming glass bell, the new and defiant hanger, tucked away on the edge of the village, stretched his arm with the rope towards the black plain. The darkness suffocated the scattered village where more soldiers than civilians lived. Here and there a gleam of yellow, flickering light from old houses, hospitals, or taverns. War is a destructive, even suffocating, factor. War is like a falling snow ... So slow and agonizing ...Cold and dead...Men who fight for the country, for honor. Which country? What honor? Everyone is trampled on for worthless things. Neither the rich nor the poor live twice. How many more seasons will it be before the fighting stops? How many children will have to be orphaned and left without anyone to love them? How many souls will have to be hanged and burned? Time does not know death ... Time does not know life ... He just passes, and passes, and passes again. Because that's the only thing he knows ...
The wind cries, the sky cries, the animals and the flowers cry too ... Nature dies under the heavy boots of the soldiers and the rusty wheels of the armaments. The sheep shout in fright on the hill behind the small village. They also see the torment of the people. They gather near the walls of the house. The lambs stick to their mothers. A mother is a mother, regardless of species, she is the protective shield, she is the sharp sword, she is the beautiful and prosperous castle, she is the iron wall ... Mother is everything ...
Get out, shepherd, for the wolves are circling us, defend us, shepherd, that wolves are circling us. Life, you're beautiful, only sometimes up in your sky, it's so full of clouds. We are under you, sun, give us the rays... That it rained enough on this poor souls.
My dear heart, don't be like stone, for only you have not been left to see me suffering, like a leaf in the wind. My heart, don't be sly , because you're also a little to blame if I don't have a good day on this Earth ...
Inima cu ochi ca mura si cu rosie-ti e gura, nu-mi da dragostea de-a dura ca-i pacat(*¹)
And so it is that in that house lived an old woman and her niece. The child no longer had parents ... Her father had died as a soldier ... He also had the same uniform as the soldiers who had settled in the village, he also had a pistol on his belt and a twisted mustache. But a pity for his soul, he is now lost forever. The girl's mother had died in childbirth ... many women suffer like this, it is said that this is God's punishment ... In order to give life, one must be lost. And so the grandmother was left alone with the child ... The old woman was a learned woman, she had been a teacher at a school in the city, but the war forced her to move to the village where she began this simple and modest life.
To make sure that the girl does not remain uneducated, every night the old woman teaches her the natural laws of life ... She teaches her what patience is, what hunger is, how to take milk from the sheep they had around the house. ... But they no longer satisfied her child's need for knowledge that every night before bed she would ask her grandmother things that even adults were afraid of ...
"What is it like to die?"
That is going to be hard to explain to a kid...A poor littel kid that had never meet her mother. But the voice of awoman answers. With calm and protective tone.
"I imagine it's like an explosion of sensations, colors, voices, lights and more. A beautiful and yet painful supernova explosion."
"But what is a supernova?"
The woman's eyes filled with tears, but she placed her rough palm on the child's cheek and caressed her slowly, smiling sadly.
"It is the death of a star that before fading gave birth to millions of other stars."
The blue skies begin to darken in color, it is slowly getting dark. The old woman sighs and takes her grandchild by the hand.
"Come on ... It's time to go to bed. Because only children who sleep well at night grow up by the day..."
"But-..."
"Shhhh...Shhh...If you make a lot of noise you will wake my chickens child..."
Her finger sticks to the girl's lips to silence her. The two cross the threshold of the house and they both put themselves in the soft bed that smells of hay and pull over them their heavy sheep wool blanket.
"Buni...?"
"Yes...?"
"I love you..."
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(1*) A verse from a song in Romanian. A physical description of the heart.
(2*) grandmother
This is my first chapter. It's a little short, but I hope you like it. What do you think? Leave a comment.
CITEȘTI
Before we were born
Romance"Before we were born, I asked you to choose my eye color, but our souls were young and had never fallen to the earth. All I saw until then was the sky, so you chose blue for me. Among the billions of lights and people, I know you're going to get in...
