Along the Prarie
Sofia Drougas
As I walked, I noticed the dull skies around me. They were blue, but they seemed to be weeping. I watched as crows pecked every last crumb off of the dry, cracked ground. People around me stopped and stared as I walked by. They were in ragged, torn clothes that probably hadn’t been washed in weeks. Their faces were drained of color, the bones on their cheeks were outlined by the hollowness of their faces. Children cried of hunger. I sighed and looked ahead, too pained to watch any longer. My long skirts were swishing around my ankles. I looked back once more. The skirts that they wore climbed up to their calves, revealing their bare legs. I walked on. I saw more of the people, huddled together in an alley, trying to keep warm. They ran to me, hands stretched to the sky, begging, crying for money. I had none to spare. I promised to return with bread for the family. I ran to escape their needy fingers. I walked when I could run no more. I was breathing heavily, panting like a dog in need of water. I stopped to rest for a minute. As I stood, I saw trees, stripped of their leaves in the distance. I saw birds flying across the scorching, hot prairie. I felt the gentle breeze, barely detectable across my face. This was home. I had lived here all of my life. I was born here, in the vast, cracked land. I had never seen a rainstorm in all of the time I had lived here. Rain came and went, like a bee flying from flower to flower, never stopping too long at each.
“Hello.” I didn’t turn around. This is the reason why I walked all of the way here, through the burning sun. I didn’t reply. Instead, I waited for him to speak.
“I’ve missed you,” were his next words.
“It’s been a long time.”
“Almost a year.” To me, it had seemed like a year, multiplied by ten.
“One too many.” I turned, and saw his sweaty, *****, smiling face, sun burned from his journey.
“Come with me. To my home. Live with me. Forever.” I responded with silence. “We’ll be happy together. We will walk, every day, in the presence of the rising sun. We will never be deprived of food or water. We will always have what we need. You will never have to work again,” he said, trying to convince me to leave my home.
“I….I can’t.”
“Why can’t you? You have nothing here. No one left. No animals, no company to visit you. All you have is me, and you won’t come?”
I did have things here. I had memories. Memories of my childhood, memories of my mother and father, long before they were killed. Of my younger sister, Maurice, and my older brother, Joseph. I remember us playing together. These memories were safely kept in remnance of our past: in the old toy box, still in the same place, in the photos placed by my mother on the fireplace mantel, and in my family’s old rooms, untouched since they all left. I couldn’t leave.
“You are not all I have.”
“Then what do you have? Tell me one thing, and I will be satisfied.”
“I have memories of childhood, of my mother and father. I have old things which my family owned. But more importantly, I have faith. I have courage. I have lived by myself for fifteen years, and in that time I have learned to hunt, to gather plants that I could eat. I found water in a field that was completely dry. I have learned to survive. By learning that, I have also found strength within me. I am not a little girl. I do not want to have servants wait on me all day and night. I want to care for myself. I already walk, every day, in the presence of the rising sun, and in the presence of the setting sun. I have all I need and want. I am happy. God had provided for me. I do not want to go with you to your land of servitude and so-called happiness… But since I am so dearly fond of you, and if you are willing to give up what you have now, please, come live with me, in my warm little home. Bring your animals. Bring your clothes. Bring whatever you please. I assure you that you will find great comfort in having just enough to live by. A life without distraction.”
“I cannot leave my home. I must go. I do hope that someday, we may meet again.” I turned away as tears ran down my cheeks.
“Please stay with me… I want you to stay.”
“I must go. Don’t be sad. Will I see you at the fair in the summer?”
“I hope so. Goodbye…”
He waved, then turned and walked away, into the sunset. The sky was the most magnificent colors: red, yellow, orange, pink, and purple. As he grew smaller, I turned, wiping the tears out of my eyes. I walked south, along a road that was well trod upon. A road that was familiar. It seemed to be calling my name, beconing for me to return home, where I would always belong.
helpful comments welcome, i wrote this for school
