She crouched amidst the garbage cans, leaning against the icy metal with only her eyes giving her hiding place away. A car rolled by, illuminating pale, sickly skin, and continued onward. A sigh of relief escaped her. Then, a crunch echoed into the narrow alleyway, and the car rolled back into view.
As the door to the passenger side swung open, she sprang up and over the overflowing cans and sprinted into the darkness.
The rain began, pattering softly against the ground.
A young man sat a bank of computers, his heavy-lidded eyes watching the glittering green symbols trailing down the screen. His chin was propped up by his hand, and shuddering yawns kept making him tremble. Reaching for a metal cup on a table an arm's length away, he frowned and leaned towards the screen.
The cup touched his lips, but then he upended it, spilling the clear liquid all over himself as he jerked in surprise and shouted.
The screens had turned gold.
"She's on the move, Sati."
The Oracle, the old wise woman, the mother of this world, sat by the window and inhaled silently the smoke of her cigarette. The rain-washed window seemed like an endless portal into the soul of this dark city. Somewhere out there, small feet were leaving bloody stains on its spirit.
Behind her, a small girl sat cross-legged and with her hands on her knees. Her obsidian eyes watched the Oracle with a serious gaze, but when the woman spoke, her face shined, lighting up the dim room like a small star. She stood and padded, barefoot, across the rough carpet to cast a shadow from the lone lamp next to the Oracle's.
"Is she coming to visit, Oracle?" A young voice, a hopeful voice. But that was what Sati was made for, after all.
"Soon," The Oracle replied, her voice layered with a heavy sigh. Lined and lacking shine, the woman looked far older than she had in many years. She didn't age, but tonight, the years showed as she and Sati peered down at the street below. "Soon enough."
Sati looked at the Oracle, resting a hand on the arm of her chair. Her little face was filled with concern, the Oracle noted. As always. Dear sweet Sati. "Oracle? Are you okay?"
"Yes, dear, I am," The Oracle said softly, encircling the little girl with a warm arm. Sati hugged her back, before pressing herself against the window and staring at the ink-black streets in search of a sign. "For now."
I am a mere memory, they say. A photo on the mantel, of the one who died.
I don't remember when it became so. I wish I did.
I am more than a memory, I think. I know I am real, I know I exist, and I know it won't always be that way. Leave me alone. Please.
Let me live. All you're doing, all you ever do, is try to take away my deepest self. My control over my world. Don't you realize that I CONTROL YOU?
I'm small, and I'm young, but you will never destroy me.
