Read My Angel :: Open Your Mind

*Thunder*

*Rumble*

*Crack*

A few tumbleweeds soar by my window aflame. The sky is grey; engulfed with thick clouds that eat up the sun. Light flashes amidst them. Another thunderous boom is heard nearby.

I am stuck in one of the outer sheds of the encampment, intended for storage. There are others with me. A little girl and two young boys.

The little girl sticks close to me, shivering, while one boy sobs into his hands and the other sits in silence.

Is this punishment? I returned with an empty basket a couple of days ago.

I remember Senior Mark scolding me, “You cause disorder with your defiance. Reflect upon your actions; ache for the Maven’s guidance.”

He then locked me in here with these three.

These three, are odd-looking children. They have sharp features with skin so dark, they seem cut from the night. Their eyes shine, almost glow, amid the shadows of this shed. I am spellbound.

So beautiful…

“What?” the silent boy speaks up. He looks at me, grumpy.

“Nothing,” I squeak at him. My voice inflects. I do not have practice in asserting myself. I hate that it did that. It makes me seem weak.

I will try again, “Did you also return empty-handed?”

“No,” the silent boy responds with a hint of cynicism.

“Then why are you in here?” I ask, my voice gathering strength as I speak.

“The Seniors dislike us,” the silent boy hisses.

“What?” I am confused.

“They dislike you too,” the silent boy muses.

“No, they do not!” the sobbing boy stops his incessant moans and yells at the silent boy, “You are wrong!”

“We are just incapable. The Maven will show us. We just do not know it yet!” the sobbing boy cries out.

“You are an idiot,” the silent boy glowers at him.

“No, you are!” the sobbing boy glares back.

The silent boy scoffs.

“What do you mean they dislike us?” I ask the silent boy.

He looks at me with solemn eyes, “We are children of the night.”

“What?” I ask.

He furrows his brows, “Dark-skinned. We are dark-skinned.”

…

“You may not be as dark as we three, but you are dark all the same,” he says.

This does not make sense. All children of the congregation are looked after. We all dress the same, eat the same, sleep the same, participate the same way, day to day. There are no disparities amongst us.

…

Is he making stuff up? I glance at my arm, noting the chocolate hue in it, then glance over at the small girl next to me. She has skin so dark it surpasses that of the other two.

How is she so beautiful?

…

Biases based on skin color…

Yes, I can see that.

I admire the little girl next to me. I inevitably smile at her.

No.

I shake my head.

I was thrown in here, because I returned empty-handed, yes?

The Seniors are not hateful beings.

…

Although, what is the reasoning behind their entrapment?

Favoritism, he says.