Ayesha Ahkdir, The Meadow Near The Home of the Akhdir Family—Mainland Europe, Day 7 Before Flood

Peace, warmth, tranquility. The whispering grass danced lazily in the breeze, singing me a gentle lullaby. Laying on the warm blanket of earth, I couldn't see over the tall blades of green, but I didn't wish to. The foliage tickled my arms, soothing every tense muscle.

I knew I'd need to return home shortly. Mother would be finishing her daily flower deliveries and be on her way back to our little house. Oddly enough, these fields always felt more like home, despite the strong attachment I felt for my house.

This was my place--a blissful little meadow where I could relax. Here, I was completely at ease. Here, I could escape reality, whenever I decided it was getting a bit too hectic. Unless someone brought reality to my place of serenity.

Footsteps crunched  the dried leaves scattered across the path towards my home.

I cursed under my breath. Mother must have arrived home early. Few others would tread that rocky walkway. I sat up. If I moved quickly I could dash through the trees and be home before Mother saw I'd left.

"I'm so happy for you, Emese," gushed a voice that certainly wasn't my mother's. "No doubt it will be an excellent triumph for your family."

I peered through the grass to see who Mother was speaking to. I recognized the woman's voice, but couldn't place it. Staying low to the ground, I managed to get a clear sight of Nabiry Bithiah, the baker's wife and the mother of two of my friends, Rilda and Mia. 

"Indeed," Mother agreed, brushing off her fancy yellow dress. She never wore that when she worked. Only when she was speaking to someone extremely important. Nor did she ever bother to fix her hair, yet it was pinned back in a tight bun. Who had she visited?

"I hoped he'd show an interest in my Mia, but I certainly know why he'd look at Ayesha," Lady Bithiah admitted.

Hearing my name, my brow furrowed. I supposed it wasn't odd for two mothers to discuss their children, but who exactly was looking at me?

"Thank you so much," Mother replied. "I just don't know how I'll break the news to Ayesha... still, Amire Okrich is such a prize. She ought to be excited to wed someone of his caliber."

My stomach clenched. It took all my will power to keep from gasping and ruining my cover. Me? Marry Amire Okrich?

I bit my lip. Amire was a medic, several years older than me. I should have felt lucky...

My friend, Paltic, was given to a man nearly twenty five summers her senior. Amire had only lived eight summers longer. We were practically the same age.

Although Amire was known to be polite, we had very little in common. I had never met him, but the evidently attractive bachelor was often the subject of chatter amongst the young ladies of our village.

From what I'd heard, we'd be a less than perfect match.

He preferred an indoor life, and I would rather spend my life in a forest, surrounded by plants. Gossip claimed Amire wished for many sons to carry on his name. I wanted a small, intimate family. While the differences weren't significant enough to hinder a match, I didn't want to marry no matter how fine the groom. I wasn't ready to tie myself to a man and a life of child rearing.

I wondered if I could just run, make my way in the forest. A ludicrous idea. How could I survive on my own?

"If I'm being completely honest," Mother sighed, "I don't know if I'm ready to let Ayesha go... but what choice do I have? I can hardly make ends meet for the three of us, and even more so, Amire believes he can save Lalita."

My heart stopped. Amire could save Lalita, my twin sister?

"What?" Lady Bithiah asked, voice suddenly softer. She didn't mean it, but everyone in the village took a different tone when speaking about Lalita.

"Amire thinks he could cure Lalita," Mother repeated earnestly. "I can't afford medical aid, but the only price Amire asks is Ayesha's hand."

~~~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~~~

"Ayesha!" Mother called, smiling as she hustled towards the sitting room where I sat, unsuccessfully trying to paint my stress away. "I have news for you, dear."

I looked up to her excited face, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. I'd managed to make it home before she could, dashing through a line of trees. She had no idea I'd overheard her conversation with Lady Bithiah. "Yes, Mother?"

Although I already knew what her news was, I looked up at Mother innocently. A guilty part of me hoped she'd changed her mind about the marriage.

"Do you know Amire Okrich?" she asked.

"Yes, Mother," I sighed. It was my typical response to anything Mother asked of me. She never thought anything of it if I seemed to be agreeing with her.

"Good," she enthused. The stress lines constantly present on her forehead crinkled with delight. "I've arranged for you to be married!"

My grip on my paintbrush tightened. I didn't want to be a payment simply because my mother couldn't afford to heal Lalita, but what choice did I have? I had already schooled my emotions, steadying my dislike of the idea. It was unbecoming to show my distaste, and I had made up my mind about the proposal before Mother even had the chance to present it to me.

I didn't like it, but if marrying Amire would fix my sister, I'd do it. I'd do anything that might allow me to hear her voice again.

Even if it wouldn't cure her, I wouldn't have a choice. Lalita and I were the oldest unmarried women in our village. Lita clearly wouldn't attract a husband, and I was only a burden on my mother at this point. It wasn't as though marriage was anything uncommon.

"When?" I asked quietly, studying my delicate nails. Pink like normal. Not that strange purple color they sometimes appeared to be.

"Seven days," Mother answered, practically glowing. She wanted Lalita better just as badly as I did. So badly, Mother often pretended Lita was perfectly fine.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. In the time since I'd overheard Mother's conversation, I'd crafted a perfect response, a response that bravely accepted the proposal, yet made it very clear it was for Lita's sake, a burden I was willing to bear for my sister. But my brilliant answer wouldn't come.

"Alright." It was the only word I could force past my lips. I returned my attention to the paints laid on the table before me. I picked up the horse hair brush and dipped into the beautiful color I'd squeezed from fallen flower petals. The half covered scrap of dried goat hide was all I could bear to look at. With each careful stroke I illustrated the scene that had been ingrained into my mind; a tree on fire, a human figure burning along with it. I'd never seen something like that before, and couldn't fathom why I'd imagined it. Still, it wasn't the first disturbing image I'd painted.

"Wonderful!" Mother cheered, not even glancing down at my illustration. She never acknowledged the images. "The wedding will be beside the beach. I'm hoping Lalita will come out to see her sister be married."

She said the last bit in a whisper, eyeing the door Lalita always hid behind. If she ever heard us talk about her, she'd never shown a sign. I doubted she'd be willing to come out of that room, wedding or no wedding.

"Yes, Mother." I nodded, returning to my normal response. I knew Mother always tried to do what was best for Lalita and I, but I never forgave her for standing by as Father tormented Lalita.

Lalita had spent years raving about the end of the world, claiming that I needed to be prepared. Prepared for what, I never knew. When we were seven years old, Lalita stopped talking all together. She never left her room, never changed her clothes without Mother or me pulling them off for her.

It started when Father had threatened to burn the odd book she was always reading if she ever spoke of the apocalypse again, but the severity of her condition, and his aggression escalated quickly. I didn't know where she'd gotten the leather bound novel, but she never let it out of her sight. Apparently Lalita had taken Father's threats so far as never speaking again.

At least, that's all my seven year old mind had made of the occurrence. When I thought too hard on it I could remember little but a sickening slapping noise and high-pitched screams. Nine years later, Lalita's condition remained an utter mystery.

But I did know that we'd all known how desperately she'd clung to that book, even if it gave her apocalyptic ideas. Even my seven year old self had known it was important to my sister. That book had given her a purpose, as morbid as it was. It was the fear of losing it that had broken her. Father had broken her. Because of Father, a few heart-wrenching screams were the last memory I had of my sister's voice. And Mother had done nothing to prevent it.

And maybe it wasn't all her fault. But blaming her was easy.

Finally, Mother left me to myself, returning to her blissful illusions of hope. I studied my painting once more before standing and heading in the direction of Lalita's room. I knocked softly on the door, not expecting a response. It was simply a warning before I turned the handle and stepped into the barren room.

Lalita and I had once shared this area, my bed next to hers. I'd listen as she told me stories of people who could throw javelins of lightning, see through the eyes of animals, or even control plants. When her condition worsened, Father insisted I be given my own room so that Lalita could have her peace. I'd known it was mostly so that I wouldn't be corrupted with my sister's delusions.

The room was exactly as I remembered from childhood, except for the melancholy that clung to the walls. Lalita's depression had poisoned the once jubilant atmosphere. The only light came from the countless paintings I had hung on the walls. Illustrations of flowers and trees basking in the sun covered most of the otherwise dull room.

Lalita had never said anything about them, but I believed she liked them. I hoped she did. I wanted to believe there was some small thing I could do to cheer her.

I used to paint endlessly, giving Lalita all my works in attempts to make her smile. It never did, but her eyes held an amused light. I still painted ceaselessly, but I hadn't gifted Lalita with my art in a long time. I didn't want to give her images of such doom and destruction. Lately those were the only images I could will my brush to capture.

"Lita?" I whispered, sitting on the foot of her bed.

Lalita huddled in the far corner, wearing only a stained top. Her golden hair was so snarled it seemed some rodent had built a nest atop her head. Lita's pale blue eyes were focused on that leather book she so desperately clung to, but frenzied and disinterested when they glanced up at me in acknowledgment.

"Did Mother tell you?" I asked, keeping my tone cheerful. I'd long since abandoned hope that Lita would ever answer me, but I still spoke to her like I believed she would. "I'm to marry Amire Okrich next week. The medic Mother is fond of."

At the mention of Amire's name, Lalita's eyes narrowed and her pale forehead creased. This was a greater reaction than I was accustomed to. Lita only rarely interacted with silent cues. She flipped through her book sharply, then furiously scanned the page until she found whatever she was searching for. She jabbed her slender finger at the messy scrawl of text.

I needed to squint in order to make out the words. A wise man in the guise of a boy.

I gave a nervous chuckle, unsure what Lalita meant. Was she referring to Amire's age? "He's a bit older than me, I suppose. But better than what most girls have to deal with. I should consider myself lucky."

Lita only glared at me with disapproval and disappointment I didn't understand.

On the rare occasions Lalita ever broke her unresponsive shutdown, she'd study my hands or hair. Other times she'd trace swirls along my arms, scowling at my skin. Once or twice she'd point at a something such as a house plant I'd brought, or one of my paintings, then got frustrated when I didn't understand what she meant.

"Anyway..." I mumbled, unable to meet Lita's glare. "The wedding will be by the ocean. I was hoping you'd come? It's in seven days."

Lalita furrowed her brow even further, seeming almost distressed. Her strong reactions surprised me almost as much as her abrupt silence originally had.

Lita opened her mouth slowly, voice coming out rough from so many years of disuse. "Soon..."

Shocked, I recoiled, sliding off the bed. It had been nine years since I'd heard Lalita speak. Despite being little more than a hoarse whisper, there was an intensity in her voice and eyes that caught me off guard.

Finally. Finally, all I'd wished for. But then Father's voice filtered through my mind, the warning he'd so often given me before his death. She wants you to join her in her madness, wants to infect us all. If you listen to her death-speak, you'll find yourself in the asylum.

It wasn't true. Lita didn't want to infect me. And Father was dead; his threats couldn't touch me. Yet somehow, I couldn't out run them.

"Um... yes..." I muttered, scrambling out of the room. My heart drummed, stomach knotting. I ridiculed myself as soon as I shut the heavy door. What if Lita had finally been reaching out to me, and I'd run away? Still, I couldn't bring myself to reenter the room. It was odd. When Lalita had stopped speaking, I'd been terrified of losing my sister, but I'd learned to cope. Why was it even scarier when she finally spoke again?

I urged myself to open the door again, but I was staid. I needed to talk to Mother, to figure out how to react lest I ruin this progress, to process her words. I needed to teach myself how to interact with the stranger under our roof—the stranger that had once been my closest companion.

"Are you alright, dear?" Mother asked as she arranged a bouquet of flowers in a clear glass vase. They were likely an engagement present from Amire. "You look pale."

"Lalita... She spoke..." I could hardly force the words from my mouth, words I'd given up on hearing four years ago.

Mother looked just as surprised as I had been, but her face was more relieved than the inexplicable dread I felt. "Wonderful! Ayesha... I... it's been so long..." She moved to open Lalita's door.

I held up my hands to stop her, rocked with fear at the thought of hearing another word. Though I didn't believe it, I couldn't help but wonder if Father's words did have any validity... She had told him he and Mother would die. "Wait! Let her rest. Too much reaction and we might spook her into silence again." If I hadn't already managed that.

Mother frowned, but finally nodded. "You've always been good with her. You'd probably know best. But what did you say to her?"

"Just that I am to marry Amire in a week's time," I answered, feeling more unsure of myself with every word. Was it something I had done to distress her so much? "And she said soon. I don't know what she meant."

Mother beamed, picking up a small red box. "Perhaps she's simply pleased to learn of her twin sister's engagement? Already something good is coming out of this marriage."

"Maybe..." I said, doubt bubbling from my lips. More delusions. Of course Mother wouldn't be overly shocked. Lalita speaking wouldn't be rattling to a woman who'd refused to believe she'd ever stopped.

"And speaking of the marriage--" Mother opened the box she held.

Inside was a small pendant of a shimmering lantern. The star suspended in the tiny light seemed to glow as the sun reflected off it. It was beautiful, but my stomach sank at the sight of it, clenching with fear.

I was lucky to marry a man like Amire. I wouldn't complain about it. I considered myself blessed to be paired with such a considerate man who would bother to buy jewelry for his bride to be. Still, seeing the necklace made my stomach churn.

"It's beautiful," I managed, gingerly taking the delicate chain.

"You should wear it to the ceremony," Mother advised. "I'm sure Amire would be pleased to see it resting on your chest."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure Amire would be more pleased to see what rests under the necklace."

"Ayesha!" she scolded. "That's not very ladylike. Amire is a fine gentleman."

"Yes, Mother," I agreed, almost laughing. "A gentleman. He could be the most gentle man in the world, but he's still a man. And there are some things the men in this village would want to see no matter how fine a gentleman they are."

Mother furrowed her brows and pursed her lips in annoyance. After a moment in which I feared I had gone too far, she loosed a sigh and begrudging chuckle. "I suppose you're right. Just don't go saying that sort of thing around Amire."

"Yes, Mother." I smiled, a light laugh easing the tension in my shoulders. It did nothing to relieve the headache that had grown more and more apparent. "May I go to bed now?"

"Of course, dear." Mother nodded, smirking. "After all, I doubt you'll be getting much sleep come next week."

"Mother!" I gasped, feigning horror. "Now who's being unladylike?"

"Go off to bed." She giggled, kissing my forehead and returning to the kitchen.

It was times like this I almost forgot my bitterness towards Mother. She really did try to be a good mother, and for the most part she was. I chided myself for saying it, but things had actually been better since Father passed away. It made me a horrible daughter to think that in some ways, disappearing on a fishing trip had been a good thing. Ever since he'd died, Mother had taken control of the house and did everything in her power to help cure Lalita. It was as if she needed to make up for the times she'd done nothing. She too seemed to blame herself for letting her daughter shut herself down. A guilty part of me wondered and wished that if Father had died just four years earlier, I might still have my sister.

Tired, I slumped into my bedroom. It was far smaller than Lalita's, having been converted from a spare storage room. Still, I loved my room, and my house. I adored the straight pillars of cattails and the twelve majestic trees that surrounded the building.

When I was younger, I'd believed the trees spoke to me. Lalita and I had pretended to command an army of saplings, soldiers awaiting command. Little games like that made Lita happy before she'd gone quiet. I knew better than to think there was sentient life in the plants I loved so dearly, but still, it was comforting to see them as my sentries, defending my own personal Haven.

((Thank you so much for reading the first chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts on Ayesha and her family! I promise more action will happen soon.))