Darkness blurs the corner of my vision throwing me in a deep, dark pit with no evident escape. I've been standing in the dullness for no wonder how long, several minutes? An hour? Possibly an eternity. With my hands tucked at my back, I tiptoe towards the emptiness with the intention of reaching somewhere I can find any signs of life. However, like usual, hope doesn't enlighten my path. My brain demands answers. Answers to where I am and how I got here but when I dare myself to speak, nothing comes out more than a whisper. A yelp of cry, perhaps.
Overcome with frustration and exhaustion, I blindly claw at the air hoping to dig out something brighter. Something to get me out of this murkiness that I've been put in without my consent. Alas! My fingertips scrape against something delicate yet cool, the coldness of a metal perhaps. Cold and darkness as a combo, I must say I'm not surprised. Reluctant at first, my fingers start tracing the features like a sculptor, features that seem somewhat humanly. With no apparent response I want to retreat looking for more but I am curious, I am curious to what- or who it is.
But no I am almost certain it's a human being. A human so small, so delicate and so cold. I comb my fingers through the stranger's rough hair, tracing the features of his face hoping he doesn't mind. It's like the memory is tucked at the back of my head. Tucked somewhere deep down where it slips right past. But I start to realize, slowly but bitterly that the human is no stranger. In fact, he may be my-
My brother.
***
These nightmares always left me exhausted. It had been weeks since we found my brother in the carnival yet my brain refuses to bury the memory somewhere deep down, where I wouldn't be able to find it for a long while. Since then mother had assigned me certain chores as a punishment for my irresponsibility (of course because she wouldn't blame her majestic son) yet the guilt didn't seem to go away. Everyday I'd follow him towards the outskirts where he'd fill the vessels with water, his fragile fingers griping around the handle dragging them in the dirt. I'd find excuses to trace his steps and had once followed him into the bathrooms allocated for men without noticing. Quite honestly I am afraid to lose him. I fear that he'd slip out of my fingertips like he had before and I'd lose him forever-
"Shireena, darling get dressed. We've got to get going."
The herbalist once said that certain thoughts are hard to conceal, hard to forget. Only if I understood what she meant earlier. To distract myself I'd usually accompany mother to her friends. Unfortunately, she assumed I finally fancied activities that 'women' usually did and so she dragged me with her- everywhere. Yesterday we went to pay a visit to my aunt which wasn't quite pleasant. My aunt wouldn't stop bragging about how her daughter had learnt Taarkashi- embroidery. Clearly she was mocking mother due to my uselessness so I left the tent in fury. I certainly cannot wait what today has installed for me.
Sarcasm is to be noted.
I dusted off the clothes that I already wore and draped a huge shawl around me to conceal my stained clothes. Keeping my head down, I followed my mother through the maze of tents unaware of where we were heading. The 'neighbors' were involved in their usual activities that'd consisted of either gossiping or doing the laundry while pant-less children played in the mud. Most of them munched on a stale piece of bread unaware of the fact that their hands were stained with dirt and mud. many that might sound concerning for obvious reasons but nevertheless it made me smile. People were away from their homeland yet the camps somehow felt like home. As if people had adapted to their surroundings and accepted whatever was available to them.
