The Twenty Five Percent Rayanna

Mimi

                      We couldn't get out of there without a second helping of dinner plus some leftovers to go. I tried to explain to Mariella and Jack (the man who rescued me and his wife) that we didn't have far to go, but they insisted. They said they had no use for the leftovers because Mariella enjoyed cooking so much.

                 "I'm a food artist. And leftovers are boring." Mariella says with a laugh. She follows us out of the house and into the small yard where the standoff with Altair occurred. "You are doing me a favor, please take them." She shoves the bowl of leftovers into my hands, and I gratefully accept, before heading to the hollowed-out tree and retrieving the backpack that I had hidden, earlier.

                                         *********************************

                   The last rays of sunlight desperately stretch across the sky, barely visible over the roof of the not-so-distant house. The stones used to build the house, while still sturdy, are covered in a layer of green moss. Light escapes from two windows that are head high. A small wooden porch leads up to the front door, and two wooden rocking chairs sit on either side of the door. A cool breeze blows, lowering the temperature by at least twenty degrees. A lone bat is barely visible in the sky swooping down for his breakfast. In the distance, the howls of wild dogs can be heard.

                  I shudder from both the cool air and the fear of those dogs. "Come on, Lou, let's hurry up and go inside Mimi's house. I bet she has a nice warm fire." I look over her direction and notice that she is just standing still. "What's the matter?"

                    "I can't go one more step." She whines, folding her little arms across her chest.

                   "Why not?"

                         "Because it's dark, and I am cold. If I go any further, I will die."

                     I can't help but laugh at her dramatics. I take a deep breath and calm myself down before continuing. "Come on dear. If we don't go now, the wild dogs will get us. Don't you hear them howling?"

                  "Now I can't move because I'm scared. What if I trip and they get me while you aren't looking?" she asks.

                       "I feel like you are dragging your feet. Do you not remember Mimi? Do you not want to go visit her? Remember, she always has cookies and lets you jump on her beds."

                      "I know, I'm not two. I remember Mimi."

                    "Then what's the matter?"

                     "Once we get there, you will leave me. Daddy left me and now you will leave me. What if Mimi leaves me too?" She asks, sounding choked up.

                        "Oh, honey," I say. I walk over to her, get down on one knee and wrap her up in a hug. "Mimi won't leave you."

                       "Not ever?" she whispers.

                   "Not until you are a grownup."

                        "Do you promise?"

                     I can't promise that, but she won't understand that, and she needs comfort. "I promise," I say, knowing it's the only response I have to calm her down.

                     "Will you come back and see me?"

                        I let go of her, lean back and pause a moment. I can't tell her that there's a good chance I'm about to die or at the very least be held prisoner for the rest of my life. That's not something she would understand. So, what do I say to her to keep her from growing up hating my memory? "I'll do my very best." I guess that's all any of us can really promise.