War Of Prayers

Rare that father is worried

Nature is everyone's enemy, but still the biggest friend. Nature can either provide and give you something but it can also take away too. So you'd imagine that when my mother died of an illness, nobody mourned. Only I did.  My father shed that one tear and moved on with his life, and since then my mother's spirit has gone with the wind.

My father still tells me about her and how she brought light into our tribe, but other than that we don't really mention her.

Nature has been through it all with us. Witnessing our cries of help, our birth and growth. Yet it doesn't do anything, unless you went and got it yourself. That's how it works. You can't expect gold to shovel its self out.

Father always told me that nature was the evil friend that provided you with everything but always wanted something in return. Like the devil. Yet, it never wanted anything in return when it came to me. I killed a doe, my meat never got me sick. I skinned a bear, the River of Souls never held illnesses. I think our evil friend favors me.

Speaking of the River of Souls, my father says that it's sacred, even when we clean our skin and meat. He says the blood that flows represents our hard work and the ashes we burn the people who have worked as hard and also have provided for us.

We don't dare bathe in this river, it holds pure sacrifice and hardships, it's poisonous. When we throw the ashes of the dead the river captures the souls—good and bad.
Sometimes at night, I can hear the tainted souls painful screaming and the pure souls singing out the hymns of protection and peace towards us.

It truly scares me, knowing that half the souls in river had bad and still have bad intentions for us.
Sometimes, I can hear my aunt Flora screaming out, cursing our family name. Aunt Flora had tried to kill my mother when she was alive and young. Her belly was always so full of bad things and whatever came out of her mouth can cut flesh. At least that's what my father had said.

I hadn't heard from my mothers soul—not once.
She probably went somewhere better than the river— I hope at least.

I sit still with my legs crossed on top of a cliff; fall is ending and I can feel the winds getting chillier by the day. Soon it will snow, and I hope God shows a little mercy.

You'd think the waves from the ocean would calm down from the seasonal change but they always get angry, so angry that I could feel the cliff shaking right at this moment. But I'm not scared. I've been sitting on this shaking cliff above the angry ocean since I've been five yet nothing has happened.

Our evil friend favors me. Or maybe it waiting for a moment to strike when it sees best fit.

"Meca!" I hear, sounds like a whisper in the wind.
"Meca!" It seems like it getting closer. I look back down the cliff, where I see my cousin Leanna running towards me, her short hair flowing wildly with the strong wind.

"Meca." She whines.
"What is it?" I look up to see her breathing harshly. "You father is searching for you" she huffs our. "Do you know why he is looking for me?" I look towards the ocean. "No, but it seems like an emergency. He was red in the face with worry in his eyes" my head snap towards her direction and I quickly stand up from the grass that will soon be covered in ice.
It must be a really bad emergency;
My father never worries for me. Never.