Something New Revealed

Chapter 1

I looked toward the sky.  Puffs of smoke filled the air, covering the motionless bodies around me.  Looking back at the ground, I carefully placed my feet where I wouldn’t step on any of these innocent people.  The people I didn’t fight for.  There were hundreds of them; men, women, and children.  Pulling my bag over my shoulder I dashed to a safe destination. 

Greece was a beautiful country, until now.  Troy, my home town which I currently live in, is trashed.  I swallow.  I run down the staircase down to my home, the ocean. 

I live alone.  No one to tell me to tell me to stop fiddling with delicate objects, no sisters or brothers to tell me to shut up, no parents.  They all died today, in the heck of a war.  My two older brothers, younger sister, and mom and dad.  When I found their bodies, I was so angry.  So I ran to the ocean, the only thing I now cared about.  I dangled my feet in the turquoise-colored water, wondering what would happen next in this disastrous life that I’m living.  But then my brain told me “Go to the market.” So, I started my way.  It wasn’t that far of a walk, about ten minutes or so.  To my surprise, there were a lot of people, people who had survived.  I entered a small café.  I walked up to the counter where an elderly woman was waiting for the next order.  And I’m glad she spoke English.  “What will it be dear?” she asked me.  I looked at the menu.  “Three count baklava,” I told her.  Two minutes later the woman handed me the bag.  “Thank you,” I said. 

I walked over to a small table far from the window.  A waiter walked by.  “Would you care for a drink, miss?” he asked.  “Coffee please,” I said.  He walked off and seconds later was back. 

But something was wrong with this market, as if it was dangerous.  I finished my coffee and left with the baklava.  I went back to my corner of the ocean.  I saw across the way, two people, a boy and a girl, the girl looking upset.  Even though I couldn’t hear I knew what was going on.  They were breaking up.  It always happened to at least several couples this season, summer.  The boy came in my direction, so I looked down at the water.  I heard his footfalls come closer.  And they stopped.  Right behind me. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hey yourself.”

“Whoa just trying to be a gentleman that’s all.”  I didn’t respond. 

“Why are you talking to me?” I asked, my expression clearly stating “boredom”.  “Is there something wrong with Greek girls or something…?” 

            “Shut up!  Why are you talking to me if you don’t even know me?”  I ran to the cottage at the top of the staircase, a cement building surrounded by cobblestone. 

“Whoa just wait up.  Let’s start by introducing ourselves.”  I stared at him.  “Hi, I’m Peter,” he said. 

“Hi, I’m Nita.”  We shook hands.  “You never answered my question,” I told

Peter. 

“What?” 

“Why are you talking to me?  That question.” 

“Ah.  Because you’re cute.” 

“Excuse me?”  I looked at him. 

“No, no not like that.  As in nice, appealing.” 

“Thanks,” I said, looking in the other direction and rolling my eyes.  I felt Peter

 watching me, so I turned back around to face him.  And I was right, he was looking at me. 

“So what was that about?” I asked.

“What?”

“You having girlfriend trouble or something?”

“Oh.”  I looked at him while he tried to find an answer.  “It’s nothing,” he finally

 said.  “Just wasn’t the girl for me.”

            “Oh.”

            “C’mon,” Peter said and stood up.  He let his hand down and I grabbed it and he pulled me up.  His hand was warm and calming.  It for some reason sent a flow of tranquil through me, like I was supposed to hold his hand. 

            “So where are we going?” I asked.

            “Anywhere.” 

            We walked for a few minutes, then Peter asked, “What time is it?” 

            I checked my watch.  “5:30.”

            “Shit,” he muttered.

            “Is something wrong?”

            Umm… I gotta go.  But I’ll probably see you tomorrow sometime.  See ya.” And he ran off down toward the marketplace.

            Hmm, I thought.  Peter seemed very suspicious.  But I’d rather not get in his way.  I mean, he could be having boy problems, and who knows what that consists of…

            As for myself I go into my cottage/house my parents and family used to live in.  I slouched down into the lounge chair and turned on the television. 

            I get up thirty minutes to make dinner for myself which consists of some fish my father had caught earlier today down at the bay.  After dinner I fall onto the couch and think about today.

            First I had woken up at around 8:30 to the sound of gunshots.  I jumped out of bed and pulled on a loose fitting tee and shorts and my tennis shoes and ran outside. 

            “Get down!” my father had shouted, and I had done what he said.  I saw my brothers running with some guns in one direction and my sisters in the other.  I tried to scramble across the yard to follow one of the groups, but I ended up almost being shot in the chest, so I ran in a totally different direction.  I went to a clump of trees near the shore and hid behind one.  I wasn’t sure what to do, so I sat there until the gunshots stopped about an hour later. 

            I had walked back up to the top of the hill and saw the bodies.  My mother, slumped against the open doorway, my father at the top of the steps, Grace, Louisa, and Margaret (my sisters) scattered in one area of the yard, and George, Chris, and Lucas (my brothers), who’d tried to make it down the stone stairwell, all blood and gory showed on their faces and chests.  Their eyes were filled with emptiness and death, and it made me sick.  Empathy was everywhere.

            So I guess my family is the people living in the rest of Troy, the people who survived, anyway.  I slumped on the couch and cried, not caring if people knew if I was.