The view of a child during the Emperor's divine judgement.
10:33
A shrill noise tore through the room, shattering the thin glass of sleep. I jolted upright, trembling, heaving loudly from the sudden sound—like the feeling of falling in a dream and being ripped from it.
"I must've slept through the alarms," I murmured raspily, groggy and hoarse in the heavy silence.
I threw my legs over the side of the bed. My feet slapped heavily against the cold wooden floorboards. Instinctively, I tiptoed slowly, trying to ease the strange sensation spreading through me.
I peered out through the large window embrasure. The sudden light blinded me senseless, snapping me out of my trance.
"What? Mama! It's snowing!" I declared into the quiet room. "Finally." A small, still smile crept along the sides of my face.
"Yes, I've seen," she replied. "There's no school today."
I smiled, then frowned, staring somewhat vacantly outside.
"Is he happy? Does he remember us?"
I slipped into thicker clothes and a jacket, reaching for a hat. It still held his smell. Lavender…
"Mama, I'm going out!"
"Alright," she said, distracted.
I pressed the hat to my face, my tears soaking into the knitted fabric.
He would tell me not to cry. He always had a smile—big and bold. Broader than any superhero's. He had stars in his smile. Someone I looked up to and tried to be.
I rushed downstairs, almost tripping on the way. "Ah!" I'd missed a step but caught myself.
I turned, looking into the living room. My mother was cleaning the table and chairs—though one chair she left untouched. She stared at it longingly, before I spoke.
"I'm going out," I murmured to her.
"Yes, I heard!" she snapped back.
"Do you want to play with me outside?"
"I have things to do besides playing children's games."
"But I have nobody to play with since Papa's gone."
"He'll come back."
I paused briefly, muttering under my breath, "No, he won't."
Then I ambled toward the door, my feet treading softly across the wooden floor, my head held low.
"I just swept that!" she exclaimed.
"Hurry on outside!"
I lifted my head in almost shameful reply.
"Sorry," I said coarsely. It felt like a ball was lodged in my throat.
A strong gust of snow bellowed at me—wrathful, yet strangely cooling. Soothing.
I closed the door behind me, kicking at the snow-covered ground before looking up.
My eyes lit up at the spectacle. "A shooting star!" I exclaimed.
"Six!"
"No—SEVEN!"
One of them broke apart into two.
"What wish do I make?" I wondered, holding my hand to my chin as I walked further away from the house.
I smiled softly. "I wish Papa would come back."
A sharp gust of wind crept along my spine. Snow leapt into my hair as I turned back, bored of the snow. After all, playing alone isn't as fun as playing together—like we used to.
My face turned gray, the light draining from my eyes. They weren't shooting stars.
I soon—but quickly—realized why pain from those closest to you hurts so much.
The hedgehog dilemma—hedgehogs move closer in winter to keep warm. But the closer they get, the more they hurt each other.
I felt wrath. But there was no one to blame.
I punched the snow, my fists sinking into the ice. My small hands bled, turning the white ground crimson. It felt wrong. It felt right. That's wrath.
And before me—
A crater, spanning far more than miles—too vast for the eye to see.
I looked up.
It was death.
There were eight.
Now seven shooting stars.
My shoes were melting, snow and ice fading along with them.
My feet blistered.
A large, pale woman descended from the sky—naked.
"Ma-Ma."