𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

BOOK I

This is a Russian creepy lullaby, you'll know when you listen. So, sleep tight. Like a baby. It has absolutely nothing to do with this, but maybe in the upcoming ones. So, hold on!

PART I, SCENE I

"I said, 'Officer Slade will swing by to give you a piece of mind on 'How to keep your pathetic excuse of lifestyle to yourself', you muzhchina suka !"

"What, I can't hear you, lady. A little louder." The old haggard repeated again in his poor, hoarse voice.

"I said, 'Fuck you and your life', ugh!" Babushka almost shouted in his face and because I couldn't ever be a decent, respectable person, I boomed a laugh behind her. 

"Oh, leave him be! He is probably riling us up or he is actually really very deaf, in both case he is a sloppy gaffer deemed to die very soon, so who cares?" I said as I shot him a nasty look and turned my Babushka by her shoulders, leading her to our dingy, cramped place.

"I don't understand, what's goin' on?" Old bag called behind us and I turned saying, "you'll understand this," I gave him the bird.

                                                             *$*

Compact, dirty, tasteless and hoarded is how I could describe this place. Old, abandoned buildings at Downtown Detroit were fenced from all sides, barbed with wires. It was noisy, crowded and left little to imagination. We were the refugees after World War III. Russia had surrendered to Americans after they had attacked the country with nuclear weapons with Taliban invading Russia as a second enemy, destroying the most non-replenishable locations, government and military bases. Everyone thought that Taliban sided and conspired with America to win the war but all went down when these terrorists turned to America after. Government from influential countries like India, Japan, China, Germany, Britain, Australia, South Korea and more, who were keeping mum about the whole thing lept up at the emergency and helped America defeat Taliban, who were almost invincible. Nobody believed that they were completely wiped out. They are still hiding, planning. I know it, heck everyone does.  

It was horrible. The world was horrible and unforgiving and innocent were the one to suffer. Those ofitsery resided in their big mansions while leaving us here to rot and die in hunger.

Some lucky Russians who were able to make it safe and harmed were offered this hell-hole. It had almost been a year, you could see the anger, the fire and accusations rising among us. One look at us and you would flinch. It was easy, the anger, the hatred. We bore it on our sleeves, coiled it in our body and molded it in our hearts.

"Olga, come on 'ere. We are goin' grocery shopping." I called out to my little 6 year old sister who was currently busy coloring her old drawing book. Oh and I had gotten myself an accent. She came barreling down and crash-hugged my legs chanting, "yay, yay!"

My grandma and her never mostly went out, only me. I had some things to keep tabs on. And besides it wasn't safe. The ofitsery patrolled all times of day. They never permitted people in groups 'lest it be suspicious. Go figure.

There were some shops here controlled by Americans, which at a particular time-slot provided free goods. But it was so crowded, you had to stand in line to get what you needed. It was the only time I took Olga out, hoping she enjoyed the outsides. Enjoy, she did. Gazing at people and all.

I locked the small, broken door and held her one hand while my grandmother held the other. She skipped in her steps and started singing some Russian lullabies which our mama used to recite and later me.

We got to the furthermost part of this little hell-hole, where a long ass queue was bustling with careless whispers and impatient movements. 

Standing behind a couple holding their infant was a sight to behold. So little. Olga kept staring at the baby and when the baby smiled, her cheeks lifted in a toothy smile. I smiled.

I was really hungry as I stared down at my country-mates. I think almost everyone had learned English a little by now. I had taken classes back in Russia and so had my little sister, who was still blooming. Education was a dream now. Hunger, we could sate. 

My Grandmother though, was English. Funny how things turn, right? She had married my Russian granddad who was crazy in love with her. And she did it because he had money. Later it just had to change. 

"Move along, Dominique. People are getting restless." Ember Volkova pushed me ahead gently and I moved, glancing ahead, keeping track of movement around me.

The security was heavy today. These police officials and guards were sharp and alert, sensing the calm before the storm. I wasn't aware of the storm and it made me queasy and irritated. The line kept moving ahead and I whispered to my Nana, "Something's not right." She gave me a quick glance, a suspicious look covering her hard face.

We were next and I pulled Olga a little closer to me. The man behind the desk gave me a questioning glance as if to say, 'Be quick and order.'

I repeated my list to him and he pulled some things out from the shelves behind him. Then he glanced up again at me and frowned. "I'll be a minute." He went behind the back door of the make-shift shop.

I waited. 

2 minutes. 3. 4. 5.

He came back holding a gun, with some other officers. I quickly pushed both of my only family behind and hardened my gaze at them.

"What is it? What's wrong?" I asked, my heart in throat and my voice a little shaky but steel.

They didn't say anything just came around the desk and took hold of my wrists. Two of them captured Nana and Olga. I thrashed, "No. What the fuck is wrong with you? We didn't do anything. Leave us." I shouted.

Olga started crying and thrashed in their hold. Nana was struggling and fighting hard. "I said leave us. We didn't do anything."

I kicked and thrashed violently. My arms aching by the amount of pressure the officer was applying to keep me still. One more came to keep me away. "Leave them." I shouted. I bucked so hard, I thought I broke my back. Nana kept screaming and Olga was crying. People were watching. 

"We're sorry Ms. Volkova. Orders from the governor." One of them said, emotionless.

I spotted Officer Slade in the crowd gathering, through my blurred eyes and screamed to him for help. "John, help them. John. Please. Please, I'll do anything." I begged from anger and helplessness. He looked at me helpless, pained. I thought I saw him mouth, 'I'm sorry' but I was too far gone.

The police took out their glocks and pointed at my family. Olga was sobbing uncontrollably, Nana looking at me in panic, tear-strickened. "No, no." I screamed my lungs out. But it went to deaf ears. The simultaneous clicks were heard and silence. I saw their bodies dropping to the ground. Blood pooling around them. Eyes to no one else, but me. Me. 

Something snapped inside me. Rage or pain, it was unknown. All I felt was terrible, stark grief and white-hot pain. Pain, so deep and profound that there was no going back. Death. I felt death. I smelled death. I smiled death. I roared death. 

And then...

Everything went dark.

                                ****************$****************

Who's in the shadows, who's ready to play?
Are we the hunter or are we the prey?

yo, dirty fellas! This felt good. Getting this off my chest. 

*muzhchina suka = male bitch

If you have any queries, just ask, you know how. If you want to share your thoughts on how this part should proceed, remember I am taking requests. 

Till then...

This is the wild, game of survival. *hardcore drum music*