Marked
Dawn approached the town center
with all the enthusiasm of a hare recognizing the rattle of an impending
attack. Her sandaled feet left faint
imprints behind her and she could feel the wind brushing against the backs of
her legs, caressing the road and erasing all signs of her passage. She walked on the sand road, accompanied by
her aunt, her only friend, Miya, and several other villagers from the west side
of town. None of her neighbors would
meet her eye. It was almost like it had
already begun, the rest of her life.
She felt secluded, alone,
sequestered. There was no noise except
the pants of her breath, no other scrape of sandaled leather against the
ground, no other heartbeat but her own pounding. Today she knew her fate would be decided and
she would become but a ghost to everyone she had known for the past eighteen
years. For eighteen years, the Village
Council had deliberated over her, petitioned the Gods for a meaning for the
only mark she had been born to. For
eighteen years, she had prayed her mark would be revealed as a Mark—a sign from
the Gods that she was special, that she belonged here, that she would make the
world a better place.
No one was Marked as she had been
birth-marked. Dawn settled the gloved
fingers of her left hand against the spot right below her belly button and
stroked the bruise-like mark beneath her woven shirt. She could clearly call to mind the roughly
rectangular blue patch of skin with its smears of yellow and dots of purple and
red. She knew, if you squinted just
right, it almost looked like the flag of her country’s long lost ancestry. That flag meant nothing now but a reminder of
a lost dream.
Dawn’s legs threatened to pool
beneath her as she stepped across the stone line which marked a circular edge
around the Great Tree. The Village
Council awaited her inside the circle, seated on the ground underneath its
mammoth outstretched limbs. Everyone
else she had ever known waited outside the circle, waited to hear her
fate. Dawn felt the distance between
herself and her aunt’s house stretch like a taut rubber band, and waited for
the snap.
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