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Zorana (MPD Gypsy, Creatacy page 8)

 
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jamie-mun
Master


Joined: 18 Jan 2006
Posts: 72
Location: The final...er, last frontier

PostPosted: Sun Jan 22, 2006 4:02 am    Post subject: Zorana (MPD Gypsy, Creatacy page 8) Reply with quote

A woman’s screams pierce the stillness of early morning. A flurry of activity breaks the peace of that grey dimness, as men and women leave their bright wagons and tents, heading toward the one from which the screams came. Order is restored as the people descended on Mihai’s wagon and he stepped out. His wife, Tshaya, was giving birth. Now there is structured chaos as the women move to and fro, preparing for the birth of this woman’s first child, as Mihai sits anxiously outside, waiting for the declaration of an O Rom O Nevo, a baby boy.

Inside the wagon, all is still but for the labored breathing of the romni and the encouraging words of the midwife. Hours pass, Tshaya’s face contorting with the pain of each contraction. Her moans turn to screams as she slowly brings the boychild into this world. The midwife picks the babe up and shakes her grizzled head sadly. The child did not survive the birth.

The old woman cleans the stillborn child, grieving for Mihai’s loss. As the sun rises about the horizon, Tshaya’s screams fill the wagon again. The midwife rushes back to the struggling woman, praying that this is another baby boy. Her prayers go unanswered, for this strong, healthy child is a chey. The midwife cleans the girl and wraps her in cloth. Once the afterbirth is cleaned and Tshaya covered, Mihai is called back in.

They pass to him first the boy. The midwife shrinks back from him, his face contorting with anger as he looks from the dead child in his arms to the babe on his wife’s breast. "Bi-lacio," he says, looking at her. Unacceptable. "He would have been Kapo after my time. His name would have been Kolya, for he would have been a great warrior. Name the murderer what you will." He turns on his heel and leaves the wagon after passing the dead child back to the midwife.

Tshaya looks down at the head, covered with fine black hair, on her breast. "You will be known as Zorana, for you were born as the sun came over the hills, and you will be my light." The child opens her wide dark eyes and stares into her mother’s, unblinking. Tshaya’s eyes go wide and blank and she speaks with a voice which is not her own.

"In mother’s womb
Your twin you killed
A social life
You shall not build
For your sins
You must atone
Your life will be led,
Like your death,
Alone."
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jamie-mun
Master


Joined: 18 Jan 2006
Posts: 72
Location: The final...er, last frontier

PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 9:38 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I spent the first six years of my life terrified of my father, and the next six being ignored by him…as long as I didn’t do something wrong.

It was not unusual for him to beat me. I remember once, when I was perhaps five, he locked me in a cupboard in the wagon for three days. At least, this is what was said to me by my mother and the others. I don’t remember it. MY body shut off, and I slept. Nothing was ever done about my treatment, I know this much. He was the leader, the Kapo. Nobody crossed him.

I have had belts, and hands, switches and riding crops used on me if I did not do things correctly. At first, my mother interfered. He beat her, and then turned to me. My beatings always seemed worse after she tried to stand up for me. After a while, she stopped.

I stopped speaking. The old people would look at me and shake their heads sadly. I rarely ate. I kept to shadows, for if he couldn’t see me, then he couldn’t hurt me.

When I was six, my mother finally got pregnant. This time, the child born was a healthy, happy baby boy. My father still beat me, but now I had the chance to see my brother spoiled while I got the scraps. My mother, now in his favor for bearing him a son, ignored me completely. I was alone.


There is something about being alone that is comforting. The silence that is only broken by your breathing and the sound of birds’ song. The knowledge that this time and place belong to you alone. Every place we stopped, I always found somewhere to go, to be alone. My favorite place of all was a flat rock surrounded on three sides by bushes. It wasn’t a big space, but it was dark, and it was quiet. It was one of the few places he ever found me. Every once in a while, I dream about that spot. It is the only dream which brings me peace.

The first nightmare came when I was ten. It was dark, and my father was beating me. Over and over again the belt landed, until the pain got so much that I begged and pleaded with him to kill me. He didn’t.

There are only three nightmares that I really have. That is the first one. In the second, all the people I know and love are standing in a group, looking at me. As one, they turn their backs on me, until I am left facing nobody. I am, once again, alone.

I think that the nightmares are somehow linked to Them. It wasn’t long after I had my nightmare that the first…attack came. We were in a town, and I was in a back alley. My father had just beaten me again. There was a girl in town, bigger than me. She was teasing me about my clothes, about my heritage, and about my bruises. I don’t remember anything after that until I was in the trees on the far side of town, my hands covered in blood. I washed it off in a stream. None of it was mine.

I was terrified. I could tell nobody about this. Here I am, far from where I was, and blood on my hands. I still have no memory of what happened that day in the alley. I never went back to find out.

The changes took place about six more times before I ran away from home, each time when I was extremely angry or in danger. By the time I had left, they had made themselves known to me. I knew that I had demons inside me.

That is why I left.

It wasn’t hard for me to survive. I knew the ways of the forest. I knew how to hunt and track animals, how to skin and prepare them. I left in the night, carrying my bedroll and some stores with me. I brought no horse, for those are too easily tracked.

I was surprised that nobody came after me. I, myself, was no big aid to the caravan, but surely the stores were missed.
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