Blumen Fire

Chapter 1 ***

Everything was calm in the hazy morning.

The lazy clouds.

The creamy sky.

The rooster's soft crow into the silence.

The small neighborhood blanketed in the rising sun's light.

8265 Endal St. was a pleasantly fine house of medium size, small decorative pale green vines hanging by the windows of the pale beige house. Panels of crystal clear windows had drawn curtains over them–yet they opened, slowly, gradually, one by one as the morning went on and the family of three inside opened them. A small shack stood in the backyard, very sturdy, hollowed out, and warm inside, yet the family didn't use it. However, none of them knew two orphaned girls had now taken refuge inside them.

7 years of misuse had caused the older one to become violent-orientated, while the other one was kinder, and smiled more often. Between their moss beds lay a small knitted bag full of scavenged trinkets, like soap and a dishcloth. Just beyond the shack was a well, filled by the often rain.

The older one woke up first.

She opened the shack door and peeked out, her narrowed eyes scanning the house and yard for possible suspects. With none detected, she slipped out and filled a bucket with lukewarm water before bringing it back into the shed. She began scrubbing both herself and their clothes, just like every other morning.

But unlike every other morning, she reached inside the bag and pulled out a journal, one thing she and her sister had found before leaving their ruined house. It was full of pictures and writings by their mother, and, after they had been born, photos of them. The most recent one had been taken a few months ago at the market when they had been wandering around for food and found a man who was taking free photographs. Eila took out the two photos and stared at them. One was of her, almost glaring at the photographer with narrowed eyes, her hair loose and down. The other was of her younger sister, Maya, with the goofiest grin on her face, laughing at the photographer's ridiculous faces that he had made. She noticed that the sunlight made Maya's hair and skin lighter. She laughed a little at them, careful not to wake up Maya, and stood, putting the photos down. She took one last look. It would probably be the most fun they would have in a long time. They were perfect moments, trapped in time.

Maya slowly woke up, rubbing her disheveled hair, and yawning. She tried to rub the grogginess away but failed. She heaved herself off the bed and waved to acknowledge her sister, who was sitting on her moss bed.

She decided to shower early, sneaking out to grab a bucket of water from the well, and stumbling back. She stripped her clothes off, shivering in the cool morning. She scooped water out of the bucket of water with a small bowl, untangling her dark brown hair, and scrubbed it with a moss ball until she was clean. She wrapped herself in the flimsy towel they had, waddling over to their chest of clothes, pulling on a thin, beige dress, and the brown part of her dress, slipping her socks on, and stepping into her shoes.

She glowered at the worn yellow star pinned onto her coat, identifying her as a Jew. Not that she hated being a Jew, of course. Just that... It was hard to live as one in these desperate times. She tied her hair back with a worn ribbon, tucking some of her loose curls behind her ear. She, however, hated how frizzy her hair could get, and how tangled. She sighed and looked at Eila. She had the perfect amount of waviness to curliness, her hair always tied up or down. Even Eila's body was perfectly curvy in every place it was meant to. She blinked, her long eyelashes blinding her for a second. She doubled over as a pain of hunger rippled through her stomach.

"Eila, my stomach can talk now, see?"

Her stomach growled again. Eila did not smile at Maya's joke, instead looking at Maya's slim waist, not from exercising, but from not having 3 meals a day. She, herself could feel her ribcage. A symbol of the years feathered with pain hunger and exhaustion. A symbol she was determined to fade.