Lost in the Shadows

Hello! It has been a while since I last posted anything. I had been toying with this story idea for a while, and finally sat down to write it. I'm sorry if it's too long-I have a new version of Microsoft Word and can't find the word count feature!

They were arguing again.

Their voices were loud and angry, the words discernible even at my distance. I pushed back tears, burying my head into the coarse fabric of my old dress. The ground I was sitting on was wet, as was the house that I learned back on, but I didn't even notice the moisture. The mud didn't matter; what mattered were the words.

They were the same that I heard hundreds of times, but this time was different. This time there was a threatening finalness to the words, a note of desperateness that had not been there before. Something was wrong.

But what? There were a hundred things that could have gone wrong. Heck, the stupid cow could have stepped on his foot this morning and from that grievance alone he could have decided that now was the time to kick me out. Of course, something far worse than that could have happened. Our fields were muddy ponds thanks to the relentless rain that had poured down on us for days. What if all the seeds we had planted were gone? The loss in crops would be devastating-and getting food to the table would be even harder. I quickly pulled out a thin piece of paper from where I had hidden in, secretly placed in between the layers of my dress. Staring back at me was my mother. She was beautiful, even though the picture was devoid of any color. The patterns of black, white, and grey, painted out her beauty, her shy smile, her warm eyes. There was a little girl on her lap. The child was young, perhaps only two years old, and her mouth was open, caught in between a laugh and a smile. Her eyes were up, at the women.

I pushed back tears that threatened to fall at this picture of the past. What could have been, what never will be. What the picture didn't show was what had happened, six years later. There was no foreshadowing of the horrific outcome of the seemingly innocent family. Quickly, I shoved the picture back in my pocket. There was a loud slam of the door, and I got up, brushing off the dirt from my back. Creeping to the edge of the house, I peeked around the corner. Aunt Mabel stood in the doorway, the door still slightly moving, and the cause was seen as a dark form headed off into the forest. My uncle, if such a loving word could be used for such an unloving man.

"Dania, what are you doing here?" Aunt Mabel asked. I expected her to be mad, but I could only hear tiredness in her voice.

I tried to think of a coherent response. Apparently my silence was enough of an answer.

"Did you hear us?"

My eyes fixed on the ground beneath my bare feet, nodding slightly. My aunt sighed.

"It's for the better you know," she said suddenly.

"For the better?" I echoed, disbelieving.

She nodded quickly. "Yes, it's really for the better. You know, you'll get an actual education, and, well-"

"And you'll have one less mouth to feed," I said. My voice was harsher than I had intended it to be, and I saw her flinch slightly.

"Dania, you can't expect me to ignore the obvious. We just don't have the food for everyone."

My voice stayed silent, though my mind screamed accusations. They were my guardians, after all, they had promised to my mother that if anything ever happened-not that anything was-they would take me in. At the time it had been an almost thoughtless promise, an automatic response. After all, Mother was young and healthy-what could ever happen?

But the unthinkable happened, and they were suddenly called to make good of their promise. Out of the blue, yet another child had been dropped on their doorstop, one too many it often seemed. There had been many nights under their care that I had gone hungry, though that blame could not solely be cast upon my aunt and uncle. It had been my choice-one night without food would not kill me. I found that if I forwent my food, then everyone would get just a little more, and that worked fine with me.

"It's, it's worked for this long," I protested weakly, pushing a damp stand of hair that dangled annoyingly in front of my face.

"Dania, it has barely-just barely-worked until now. This flooding, well, it's just the last straw. You're not the only one, you know. We have to send Joshua away as well." She turned, looking into the forest where Uncle had stormed off.

I thought of Joshua, his sweet young face, his big dreams of learning-becoming something more than just a farmers son.

"I bet he is...happy," I said softly. Happy did not cover it in the least, and as soon as I said it I wish I could take it back. Happy? Happy to be ripped away from your family because they don't want to sacrifice enough to let you have a meal every night?

My aunt shrugged. "He's trying to be at least."

"Are we going to the same place?" My voice was tentative, the soft question nearly whisked away by the relentless wind.

She fell silent, wiping her hands on her apron which hug around her waist. Her eyes carried the trouble of the family, gazing off into the rain, her lips pressed into a thin, hard line.

The man was dressed in modest clothes, and looked woefully unprepared for the torrent of rain that washed down on him. He glared up at the heavens, as if communicating with nature herself. After momentarily pausing for the silent conversation, he continued on his way, angrily stomping down the mud path. Suddenly, his boot splashed into a hole, mud splattering up on his pant leg. Grumbling, he shook the leg, though the mud was persistent, clinging to his pant legs. More grumbling. Shivering as the wind tore through his soaked frame, he glanced up, at the small house before him. It was a modest, wooden house, and he pulled out a scrap of paper, and glanced back up at the house. With a shrug, he pushed the paper back into his pockets, and approached the door. He quickly rapped on the door, shivering even more as the wind continued to push against him. The door opened slightly, a suspicious women glaring out into the night.

"Well, hello there. My name is Arthur, can I come in for a minute?" He said with a cheery grin.

The door didn't open any wider.

"Please? This is very important." Still no response. The man sighed. "It involves the possible monetary gain for your family.

The door swung wide open. He stepped inside, hating that at the mention of money, he had been invited in-well, more or less that is. Oh well, whatever worked, he supposed.

"What do you want?" The women asked directly, the deep lines on her face describing a life that had had its full share of hardships.

Before he answered, his eyes quickly scanned the small room. There was a fireplace on the opposite wall, and gathered around its light was a handful of children, most of them young. She was sitting half to the fire, half to the door. Her eyes were of the flames, and that gave him a chance to quickly look her over. Yup, she was the one.

"Well, I come as a representative from the Academy-" The look on the women's face stopped him short. Fine. If that's what she wanted... "I come from that big school in the huge city. Know the one I'm talking about? Good. There's this really important guy at the really big school over in that really big city. That really important guy hires me to go out to families and tell them that their child has been accepted into that really big school."

"But we didn't-"

"You don't always have to apply to the school to be accepted-" He was stopped short by a laugh from the fireplace, coming from the girl. Great. Like mother, like daughter.

"That doesn't make any sense." She was a teenager by the looks of it, her eyes darting from the women to him. "Being accepted into a school that you didn't even apply to?" Her bravery was shot down by one look from the women, and she turned her gaze back to the fire.

"Well, let me see if I can explain," he said with a sigh. It looked like it was going to be a long, wet night. "There are two types of students. Those that apply, and those that we seek out. There. That was rather simple." It had been easier that he had though it would be-perhaps there was a warm fire place in his very near future.

"So you want one of my children to go to your big school?" The women asked doubtfully.

"Yes."

"Who?" This question was asked by the same girl around the fire. She stood, slowly walking towards him. In her eyes was a terrible hope, hope that was more like despair than wistfulness.

"Well," he looked away, quickly digging into his pockets, even though he knew by heart that name that would be on there. Still, he drew the paper out, his eyes scanning over the name. "I've come to tell you that one girl named Dania has been accepted into our school."

The hope was slowly replaced with a curious mixture of disbelief and relief. "Wait, just me?"

He frowned down at the page. Of course, just her. "Yes, just you I guess."

"Are you sure?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I'm quite sure."

The girl, Dania, glanced back at the fire place. "Isn't there room at your school for just one more?'

"Dania." The sharp voice came from the women.

"No, it's quite alright." He looked at the girl in front of him. Her dress was muddy, her hair a

mess, though her defiant eyes shone clearly. It didn't take much to realize why she had been sought

out. He could practically taste her unbridled power from where he was standing.

"You see, it's just my cousin, he, he's also getting sent into the city-" The look of confusion on his

face stopped the girl short.

"That is why you're letting me come to your school, right, because I-" she stopped, a look of confusion on her face. She glanced at the women, though the women remained silent.

"Never mind," Dania said uneasily with a quick shake of her head. "You see, my cousin is a very good student and, well, perhaps he could come with me."

He was already formulating the nicest way of telling Dania 'no' when a young boy got up from the fire to join her. He was younger than the girl, his frame thin, presumably from the lack of food-he could tell the countryside had been hard hit.

As the boy drew nearer, the man's eyes widened, a look of disbelief coming over his face.

Oh boy. The headmaster was going to be very surprised.

Those few moments of silence were pure torture. His eyes were shocked, and all of the sudden, I feared that I had asked too much. Did I break some protocol by asking that Joshua come with me? Whatever I had inadvertently done couldn't warrant this much surprise. After a second or two, Arthur shook his head, as if to shake the surprise off his face.

"Um, yes, he, well, your cousin. I, uh, I do believe that we will be able to work out something at the school." He struggled before regaining his previous loquaciousness.

I blinked, taken aback. That was the last thing I expected to hear. What I was expecting was a polite-or even an impolite-'no'. But a yes? I didn't know what to say. Luckily, Joshua wasn't in the same predicament.

"Thank you, sir," Joshua said humbly.

Arther nodded, a small smile on his face, and turned to Aunt Mabel. "Now, about that monetary gain I mentioned. It is normal for the school to recompense some families, especially if we feel that taking the child away to school will lesson the amount of work the family can do."

"When do they leave?" For all her even tone, one glance to Joshua, assured me that she cared more then she let on.

"Well, as soon as you can spare them, I suppose. The school year is about to start, and it would be nice to get them settled in. They'll be staying at the school, of course."

Aunt Mabel nodded. "How about tomorrow?"

Beside me I saw Joshua flinch slightly at the almost uncaring tone of her voice, and the sudden proposed date. I hugged him slightly with one arm, to remind him that at least we would be with each other. He glanced up with a small smile that didn't quite reach his worried eyes.

"Tomorrow? Well, I, sure, that works perfectly for me. If you two pack your bags, I guess I can pick you up tomorrow at mid-day, and take you to the school."

With a smile and slight nod, Arthur turned, and opened the door. He hesitated slightly at the sight of the pounding rain, but then left, letting out an annoyed sigh as the rain immediately drenched him. As soon as the door closed, Aunt Mabel whirled around to face me.

"What was that for?" she cried out.

"What do you mean?" I exclaimed. "Everything will work out now!"

"It wasn't supposed to!" she shot out, stopping suddenly, her eyes closed, a look or regret on her face.

I glanced around. The room was deserted. Aunt Mabel and Uncle's children knew when to make

themselves scare. The only brave-or stupid-souls left were Joshua, who was crouched down by the fire, and I.

"What?"

"Joshua wasn't supposed to leave-"

"But you said..." I broke in, weakly.

"That's your uncle said. I was going to change his mind-to convince him that Joshua should stay.

Now, knowing that he'll get paid for Joshua's absence, he'll be the first to shove him out the door," she explained bitterly.

"But-" I stopped, having no words to convey how I had only meant to help, not make things worse.

"I'm sorry," I finally whispered, the sound harsh against the silence.

"Don't be." Joshua stood up, a weak smile on his face. "I'll get to learn-that's what I always wanted, you know."

With one last nod, as if to convince himself that the words weren't a lie, he entered the adjourning room where all us children slept.

Aunt Mabel sighed, turning to face the fire. I glanced at the door. Uncle hadn't been back the whole day, maybe he didn't have to know...

"Aunt Mabel, maybe Uncle doesn't have to know-"

She turned suddenly. "Do you really think that'll work? He'd find out eventually, and then it would just be ten times worse."

My only idea shot down ruthlessly, I had nothing else to offer, until I remembered by confusion earlier.

"Aunt Mabel, I thought that the guy came because he knew that I would be going into the city."

Aunt Mabel laughed hollowly. "Diana, we were going to send you to an orphanage, not some high-grade school. I don't know why he came now of all times."

An orphanage? Her words echoed numbly in my mind. Wordlessly, I turned, slowly entering our, the children, bedroom. The room was pitch black, and I stumbled to my bed. Taking the thin sheet, I curled up in a ball, and softly cried myself to sleep.

I didn't want to say anything before you read the story, but I really don't like how this story turned out. (of course just is just the very beginning) I don't know why, but for some reason I just didn't think it turned out very good. I figured if I wanted to make it better, I would have to expose it to the crocodiles first. =D

Have at it!

Thanks.

EDIT: I finally found where the word count was (it was at the bottom of the page the whole time!) and I realized that my piece was reallllly long. So, I cut out a part in the middle where Diana talks to Josh. Not much happens there, and I was thinking about cutting it out anyway.