Trapped ( Zarobljena prevedeno na engleski jezik )

1. Family idyll

The sky was clear, heralding a sunny day. The dawn was reddening, and the sun was about to appear to delight the inhabitants of the small town in southwestern Serbia with its warmth and brightness. The locals were united despite the specter of the impending war. They always celebrated together whenever there was a reason for joy, but at that time, reasons were few.

Misfortune was knocking at the door of the beleaguered people.

In the year 1738, Serbia faced a great danger. A few years earlier, Serbia had been under the rule of the Austro-Hungarians. In 1717, during the Austro-Turkish War, the Austro-Hungarians had taken control of Serbia from the Turks. This brought some improvement to the common people. "Of two evils, choose the lesser," goes the wise saying. The Austro-Hungarians were undoubtedly the lesser evil.

After a series of relatively good years, a terrifying knock came at the door. The people sensed misfortune. They had lived in evil for so long that they could smell it like experienced bloodhounds. The Austro-Hungarians were on the verge of retreating before the Turkish offensive, which would mean the return of Turkish rule.

The people no longer had the strength to endure the renewed misery, hunger, torture, and the abuse of those inhuman beings. They remained silent and waited. Summer arrived with the intoxicating scents of meadows, bringing with it the hope that perhaps evil would bypass them. Just a barren hope.

The sun shimmered on the morning dew. The crowing of the village roosters could already be heard, and the birds sang their song to the sun. Everything was peaceful and serene, like in paradise. Nothing indicated that hell would soon break out in the same place.

****

Evangelia was awakened, as usual, by the crowing of the roosters and the rays of sunlight sneaking into her room. She had recently been granted the privilege of having her own private space. She had to admit that it was easier for her to fall asleep because she no longer had to listen to the chatter and tossing of her two brothers late into the night.

The house they lived in was modest. Evangelia's father had managed to expand it a little, adding one small room. If he hadn't done that, the girl would still be cramped.

The house, before the expansion, consisted of only three small rooms: a kitchen that housed the hearth and had always been the central part of the home. Food was prepared there, meals were eaten, family gatherings were held, and sometimes, when the parents had time and were willing, the room also served for entertainment. Evangelia and her brothers loved it most when their father told them stories about his hunting adventures; he was the most famous hunter in the area.

Bogdan and Mateja, Evangelia's brothers, absorbed every word he said and imagined in their minds the terrifying scene of their father wrestling with a large bear, ultimately bringing it down by plunging a harpoon into its belly.

The girl had long realized that their father invented half of the stories to make them more interesting. With his tales and imagination, he covered their eyes so they wouldn't see or feel the reality that, at that moment, was more bloodthirsty than the bear in the story. Despite this, Evangelia listened to her father's storytelling with a smile. In a silent agreement with him, she created a world of imagination.

In the second room, the parents were sleeping, and in the third, Evangelia was with her brothers. They were a few years younger than her. With each passing year, they became more restless, and she tolerated them better when they were very small. A sharp-eyed mother did not miss this.

- Enough! Bogdan, Matej, get out of the room, you're not sleeping here anymore.

The boys made a shocked expression.

- Mom - Evangelia said gently. - They really don't bother me, there's no need to kick them out.

Bogdan and Matej still stood in the doorway, and their mother looked at them.

- Come on, you two! Why are you standing there like statues? Your father is calling for you to help with something.

At those words, they ran off; a call from their father could not be refused. Their mother sat on the edge of the bed: - Sit down - she ordered her daughter.

Evangelia thought that she was not in for the usual conversation. Her mother gently stroked her only daughter's face. Her touch was tender, but her hands unusually cold.

- You are growing and developing, you are eighteen years old, and soon you will be nineteen. It is not fitting for a young girl to still sleep in the same room with her brothers. I didn't push Milan to expand this little house we have for nothing.

So that's why the strange decision about the expansion was made. Evangelia didn't doubt that it was for a reason. Mother has always done everything for a reason.

- If God allows, we'll marry you off to Milos next year; everyone in town knows he has had his eye on you for a long time.

The girl blushed to the tips of her ears; her pale complexion didn't allow her to hide it. Mother laughed with her ringing laughter.

Milos was the son of her father's childhood friend Mitar. He was truly a nice, decent, and handsome young man, the subject of conversation for many girls. Evangelia sighed. Although many longed for Milos's dark eyes, she did not. She had never felt that longing for him. Not for any young man.

Often, on nights when she couldn't sleep from worry about the impending war, she would delve into the secret and nature of her heart. Simply put, her heart did not beat for any boy from the village, no matter how much she wanted it to. Her heart beat for family and for God Himself. And that was okay.

She would marry Milos because that's what her parents said. Perhaps, over time, she would come to love him in that way. The elders say that love and passion are fleeting and that marriage is based on respect. And so it would be. Milos was a good young man, and Evangelia did not want to remain unmarried and without offspring; it was well known what happened to women who were single. They had always been on the wall of shame. Family honor was important. Love might come someday.

- Enjoy, from this day on, only your room - her mother said, while her amber-colored eyes continued to smile.

- Thank you, mother.

The daughter hugged her and buried her head in her thick, curly hair. Evangelia had lost count of how many times she regretted that genetics had not favored her and that it had not gifted her with her mother's curls. From her father, she had inherited brown hair that was so straight that it could be stretched like a bow. She was not aware of the beauty of her thick, shiny hair.

Her mother returned a firm hug. She always smelled, as if by some magic, of roses and cakes. Evangelia forever remembered that scent; it never faded from her memory.

She had never felt as safe and protected as she did that morning. A single touch and embrace from her mother truly erased all fears, even while war raged on. A mother's hug represents an idyll, the very canopy of the family tree, which oversees, encompasses, and forever connects. At least for a moment, there, in the folds of their intertwined arms, everything was alright.