Burning Loss

'There weren't always Dragons in the valley.'

My mother started drowning me with these stories as soon as I could understand Sesotho. Our mother tongue. A language few know.

She was possessed with the thought of what the world once was: fearless, beautiful, unpolluted.

But I can't imagine it. Our skies are thick and grey with smoke, from the scorching breath of Valley Dragons.

The trees are withered, and I haven't seen a flower in my life. The flowers my mother thinks must be the most wonderful entity in the world.

Nobody’s ever seen the beasts. The only proof we have that they exist is the dramatic stories passed on from our ancestors, and the continuous smoke coming from where they supposedly reside.

That and the nightly screams of dominance, as if two of them are at a brawl. Fighting for the spot of leader.

My mother insists they're real. She makes up crazy stories that she's seen them. Big and scaly and almost human-like.

I've given up guessing what goes through her mind.

The water in my bucket sloshes over its brim, soaking through my maiden’s dress. I shove the rag on my head aside to wipe my sweat.

We haven't known winter since three years back when the storms rushed through the mountains and our village; horrible moans and bright lights striking on our land.

The dragons had allegedly fled into large carved caves, scared of the rain. Scared; it feels ridiculous calling those mighty things scared. They aren't afraid of anything, least of all rain. Perhaps they're like the stray cats we see everywhere, more disturbed to get their coats purified in cold liquid.

I don't enjoy being watered either. It's bothersome. And a waste of our limited water, lowering in our dying well. We can no longer use the water from the valley. That's the Dragons water now, and there wasn't but a thing anyone could do or say about it.

Well, that's what I've heard. From a few giggling ladies that gather near the crops for gossip. Their favorite spot, where they can watch men stow away at work and flush over obnoxious news spread about. It's not uncommon. There's not much else to do with spare time---away from daily chores. No exploring. No puddle jumping. No flower picking, or tree sitting. This is it. A small, common town. Our food is shared among, and our water is rationed.

I turn towards my home, not so far from the well.

The smell of freshly punched laundry and homemade soap engulfs my lungs, but not before I see the beautiful maiden, whose dressy rags flow with the hot air. Her fiery blonde hair blows with it, a big, curled mess, losing the rag hugging her hair. She reaches for it, her arms long and too thin, but the wind snatches it first.

I chase it for her, and she smiles like she always does, her forehead crinkling naturally with age. She wipes at the dirt on my cheek and leaves a kiss in its place, only a few centimeters taller than I.

"Hello, my girl. Has the well dried up yet?" Her voice flows with the wind. It's so quiet. Weak. Sick. How much longer can she stand? Widen her eyes? Breathe?

"Not quite. But they're sharing less and less. Only half a bucket today." I hold it up to her, and she smiles sadly.

"It's alright, we'll get the valley back soon enough." She turns and I quietly sigh. She has this steaming suspicion that the dragons will peacefully scatter. Like they'll show us mercy and give us back what was once ours. It's obscure. Nothing can make them leave, not after having centuries of quiet peace, stalking and mocking the humans they stole from.

"Yes," I agree, "we'll-" my sentence is lost in a swindle of screams, trembling the earth beneath us. I shock at the sound and turn around. Eyes wide. Alert. Ready to run. I've prepared myself for this. For an attack. It can't be unheard of. Not with beasts roaming around.

I search for blood. Loose limbs. Decapitated heads. Crying mothers. Burning homes. Petrified children. But all I see is a few cowering girls, staring at the ground, and the shirtless man coming to their rescue. Saving the damsels in distress.

I have to grab onto my mother to stay steady, sighing in relief as I see a small critter, scattering away from the stampede of people. That's all it was. A few fearful women, acting as if they've never seen a spider before.

My jaw ticks. They can’t possibly understand the scale of danger we're all in. A small spider is nothing, not compared to the beasts laying low in the paradise right beside us. Do they not get it? How can they not? Our whole education is about surviving a fall, if the Dragons just so decide they want to eat us.

Why can't they take it seriously? It trifles me to think they can be so calm in a situation such as ours.

I help my mother finish hanging up the wet laundry, blowing ferociously with the wind.

We venture inside our home, everything tattered and old. Our kitchen isn’t much. Just a bench, and a few supplies. Old, rusting supplies.

She drops the basket where we do our laundry and plops into her chair, straight to her beading, a sweetly quiet hum swaying from her throat. The same hum she always sings. The one my father left her, sang to her, on his very own death bed.

I try to sneak a glance at her newest design, but she turns away from me, giggling. Like a child. She refuses to tell me what she's making, only that she is almost done. That it's for me to keep and treasure. I've pledged that I will. Anything my mother makes is special. And I never know which is going to be her last creation, so I have to cherish them all.

I allow myself to rest on our bed, situated openly in our house. We have no other rooms, part from our small bathroom. Me and my mother share our bed at night, cuddling together to stay warm. Our blankets are thin, so we rely on body heat to keep us from freezing to death.

I close my eyes for a split second, falling more tired by the second. My mind wavers with images, dreams of other lives, futures with bright skies, and thriving nature.

Visions of a life that isn't mine, where water is easily accessed, food is overflowing from our cabinets, dresses and clothes are clean and fancy, sparkling in the daylight. A place where love is a priority, where gossip is rare, where fear is unheard of.

Somewhere, somehow, in a place opposite to this one. Where everything is perfect, and dragons are but a myth created for bored children.

Peace. Quiet. Parties. Love. Heartbreak. Money. Oh, so much money.

It exists. It must. Somewhere, beyond the valley, beyond this dreadful life, there must be a vast life of happiness, of joy. Even if I never make it there, it's good enough to dream about. To wish for. To know that there are others living the life I so want. It's enough, even if it really isn't.

I've always wondered if there’s a way to go there. A way to venture past the dragons and towards a new life. I've heard stories of a skinny bridge of land, floating above the valley, out of the view of Dragons. A way to escape this limited life.

But...it's simply a rumor. And my mother. How would my mother survive such a journey? I can't leave her. Not here. Not in a place this unpredictable. Not alone.

"Honey. Oh, honey. You must awaken." I shoot up from my bed, looking around frantically. My heart so fast it feels impossible. No light shines from the few windows this house bares. It's night. Did I drift off?

"Mom, what is it?" She drapes a curtain of material in front of me, smiling wide with glee. Something hard is wrapped inside, and my stomach plummets with anticipation.

"It's finished." She motions for me to act, so I unwrap the item from the soft cloth and gasp at her present. She squeals happily and beckons me to try it on. A bracelet. Decorated with random colored stones and few colored strings. I place it over my hand and let it dominate my right wrist. She's smiles, proud of her work.

"It's so wonderful, mother. It so, so wonderful!" She nods at my approval. Proud. She should be. Like me, always the same loud praise towards her gorgeous creations. She never fails to impress. How she can make such fashionable things from such useless items bewilders me.

She wanders off towards the toilet, still smiling too much. I'm glad she's happy. Oh, so happy. She deserves it. Her heart needs it. I need it. It's the only thing the relieves my soul.

A loud thud interrupts my admiration, shocking me to my core. Was it…mother? I rush to the bathroom, shock vibrating my stomach and hands when I see her. I fall to my knees, next to her limp body.

No. Not now. Why? Wasn't she just fine a second ago? There were no signs. Nothing worse than usual. Was her body this weak a minute ago? I can’t remember. I can never remember! I sob into her hair, trying to will her awake. She's never collapsed before.

"Mother. Mother, please. Not now. Don't leave me yet. Please, mother." Her eyes shock open for a second, taking in my tears. My heart lightens a little, filling with unneeded hope. My stomach swirls with a pain I’ve never known. A pain I can’t explain.

"Oh, my darling. Please…don't be s-sad. You have to go past the valley, like…like we talked about." She caresses my cheek one last time, and I shake my head as she completely loses her strength.

"Mother! Mom! Please..." I shake her heavy body over and over, losing my vision to endless tears. Somebody rushes into my home, hearing my scarring scream. They pull me from her body and check her pulse. Nothing. He shakes his head.

His mouth moves, but I can’t hear anything. Nothing they say can make me better. She was the only hope I had left. Dead. She's gone. She's at peace. But what about me? Why did she leave me? Was she just holding on to finish my bracelet? Was she willing herself to live until she made me her last creation?

I should've loved her more. Taken care of her more. Why couldn't I see her slowly dying? I thought she was just getting weaker. When did this start? When did she start slowly rotting away?

"Hey! Esther! Listen to me!" I jump out of their arms, my senses awakening. I'm outside. Why would they bring me outside?

"What...what are you doing? Save my mother!" I scream, trying to rush back inside. I flail in George’s arms, careless to how much pain I might inflict on his skin.

"There's no time. I'm sorry...but she's gone. For good." I realize who I'm talking to. Tom, the town leader. Who manages his role from the comfort of his large home and larger rations of food and water.

"No." I refuse his words. She's not gone. She can't be. It's all too...quick. Death doesn't happen that quick. Death is slow. Noticeable. Clear. She can’t be dead.

"Esther, please. Just listen to me. We're leaving the village. We've been planning this movement for weeks. And now it's time." My mouth gapes.

"But...but why?" I stutter in confusion. Are they stupid? What preparation do they have? We have no idea how far another village is from here. We don't have enough water to share for a journey that long. No food to carry so far.

"Don't ask questions. We don't have the time. We have to leave now." George pulls me by my arms, towards the rest of the village. I don't understand. Why is everyone waiting like they've known for weeks? Why am I the only clueless one?

I rip myself from George's grasp and stumble backwards. "No! I can't just leave her in that house to rot! She's my mother, God dammit!"

Tom sighs, as if I'm the unreasonable one. Am I really being that unreasonable? Wouldn't they want to give their loved one an honorable memorial? To send them into the afterlife. I’m not being ridiculous. My mother deserves more than to be left to rot on the dirty floor.

"Look, just go and say goodbye and then hurry back. We don't have the time or strength to bury her. I'm sorry, but if you want to come, you have to make that sacrifice." I nod and sprint back to my home.

Her body hasn't moved an inch, and I feel my knees buckle beneath me. I can't be weak. I can't stop now. I have to live our dream for the both of us and find what's beyond the valley. Like she wants.

It's the least I can do for her.

I cringe as I scrape her body across the floor, tears dripping onto her pale skin. I manage to pull her onto our bed, quickly covering her body with our blanket. I twinge at the sight of her. So still. So soundless. So peaceful. She should've been able to come with us. She should still be alive.

I bite back a sob and place our favorite book on her stomach, letting it rest in her hands. Our book about all the possibilities in this world. The nature, the thriving life. Everything we could imagine.

She needs it now. More than me or anyone else. And hopefully, she's in the world we always dreamed of being in. Smelling flowers and baking in the warm sun, on the brightest of green grass.

I let one more tear fall. Shedding her one last drop of sorrow, before wiping my dirtied face and grabbing my things. I shove the last of our food in an old bag of mine, with my favorite book and all the things my mother has created for me.

I hear someone yell my name from outside, and I turn to my mother one last time.

"Goodbye, mommy...I'll see you later." I kiss her on the forehead and hesitate, my heart aching in my chest, before pushing the lump in my throat away and running outside.

"Finally." Tom says, catching everyone’s attention. "Let's go. We all have to be extremely quiet if we want to pass unseen."

Everyone nods and his hands motion for us to walk, following him closer and closer to the place everyone used to fear. No, the place we still fear.

We push through some dry bush and find ourselves at the edge of the valley. It's deep. But not as deep as I imagined. And surprisingly empty. Not a dragon in sight. But I can’t relax yet. It's night, they're probably disguised in the darkness.

"Alright, let's go." Tom is the first to step on the thin clay of land forming a bridge over the Dragons home. It’s crumbling at the sides, as if somethings been eating away at it for centuries. As if this bridge used to be much wider, covering the whole of the valley.

He scatters further onto the passageway, before calling the rest of us over with his hand. Everyone slowly follows him, skeptical about the strength of the bridge. I hesitate. Is it really safe? What if all of this weight is too much for the earth, and everyone crashes down into the Dragons lair?

"Hey, Esther," I turn around at my name, tilting me head to the side. Confused. I don’t have many acquaintances in this village. I was never very much liked. Neither was my mom, who was always deemed weird by the village elders, saying her sickness had jumbled her poor mind. But she wasn’t weird. She was unique. So special. So perfect.

"What is it-" A girl my age shoves my chest, pushing me backwards. I stumble closer to the edge of the valley, heart quickening. What are they doing?

"Sorry, but we don't need extra baggage slowing us down. Have fun with the Dragons." She and her friends laugh, and it all happens in a second. She shoves me once more and I tumble to the ground. I try to put my hand to the floor to steady myself, but nothing is there. Just air. Just dreadful nothingness.

I roll backwards, my luggage flailing with me. I crash down the steep hill. Pounding. Bruising. Falling. Screaming. It feels endless, like I could fall for centuries, never stopping. Never breaking.

Haven't I had enough? What did I ever do to deserve this? My whole life...I’ve tried so hard. I’ve helped my mom with every chore, helped the men do field work when no one else would. I’ve shared my own rations with little kids who still bore hunger. I’ve lost my mother. I’ve lost everything. Why me? Why is it always me?

Maybe I do deserve this. Maybe it's better if I just die. Better for everyone. Better for me. I can be with my mom. I can be in peace with her. Even if it means breaking the silent promise I made to her. To venture the world that she never got to see.

My body halts to a stop on flat ground, at the very bottom of the valley I've feared for 18 years. Ever since I was born. The very same place I was always told to stay far away from.

I groan and look around, frantic. Scared. Waiting. Praying. The pain is gone. Like it was never there. I'm just numb. Numb, apart from the quaking fear eroding my bones.

A branch snaps to my right, and my head snaps with it. I squint. I'm too scared to speak. Too scared to run. Too scared to breath.

My eyes wonder once more, searching for danger. But when I look back, when another branch snaps, when my heart skips another beat and my lungs burn with fire, I don't see darkness.

I don't find what I saw before. Instead, glowing like a bonfire in the darkest time of the night, I see a million golden eyes, all glaring with curiosity and hunger, staring at me. Like I'm a meal. Like I'm exotic to creatures such as them.

And when one of them speaks, tells another to approach me, I finally breathe again. I finally inhale the air that I need. I finally let go, fainting onto the dirty ground, being completely and utterly vulnerable before the hoard of ferocious beasts, leaving them to do to me as they wish. Eat me, cook me, play with me, like a cat plays with a mouse.

But I can’t seem to care, letting my body sigh one last time, feeling a sense on content for what my fate is soon to be, when a blink of realization strikes me before I lose myself to the darkness.

My mother. She was right. She really did it.

She really saw the Dragons.