The Day of Ashes

It's still dark, darker than the nights when the Lucerian stones seem to dim just a little, as if they are tired like I feel now. I had a scary dream, but when I woke up, I remembered it wasn't a dream. I wish it was. I wish I could wake up with Daddy's voice telling me it's just a bad dream, but Daddy doesn't say anything anymore.
 
Yesterday was the day the sky got even darker over our farm. Daddy was in bed, coughing and not smiling like he does when we play with the straw dolls I make. I wanted to make him smile, so I decided to get the special medicine that helps him breathe and stops the hurt. The one that smells like mint and makes you feel like you're sitting in a cool breeze.
 
Getting to the city was hard. The guards at the gate looked at me like I shouldn't be there. I'm just little, but I know how to talk big, just like Daddy taught me. "I need medicine for my Daddy," I said, as loud as I could. One of the guards bent down and looked at me with his big, serious eyes, then he let me in. I felt brave, but also scared, like when you climb a tree and look down.
 
The city was all noisy and smoky. People were running and shouting, and no one was smiling. The smoke made me cough, and my eyes hurt, but I kept thinking of Daddy and how he needed me. I went to the place where they keep all the herbs and bottles. The apothecary’s shop was in the middle of the blackening. The heat hugged me all over like when you get into a bath that's too hot, and it made me want to cry.
 
I knew what the medicine looked like. Daddy had shown me once, a green bottle with a red leaf on it. I found it, even though everything was falling and crashing and the air was so hot I thought I might melt. I grabbed the bottle and ran out as fast as my legs could go. I didn't look back because I was afraid if I did, the black would catch me.
 
When I got back to the farm, everything was quiet. Too quiet. I ran to Daddy, holding the bottle tight, thinking of his smile. But Daddy was lying still, and he wasn't smiling. He wasn't anything. I don't understand why he wouldn't wake up. I shook him, and I cried, and I told him I got the medicine, but he just stayed quiet.
 
I don't like this quiet. It's like the quiet of the city when the black eats all the noise. I'm holding the green bottle now, but it doesn't feel important anymore. Daddy can't feel the cool breeze from it. I just want to hear him say my name, see him smile, and tell me it's going to be alright. But all I have is this bottle, and the dark, and the quiet.