You wake in the middle of the night, pressed up against your mother in a pile of bedding, to the sounds of men shouting outside. You recognize your father's voice before it's cut off with a scream.
Your mother jumps up, looking out the window, before rushing back to the pile, scooping you up in her arms. You're really scared now; your mother only carries you when you need to get away. You're three sweeps; old enough to run, but not to run fast enough to escape.
"Mama, what's going on?" You ask, voice small and scared.
"Something bad. Close your eyes, Karkat." Your mother instructs, holding you tightly and running for the treeline; if you can make it to the forest, you'll have a better chance.
You initially obey, clinging to your mother, eyes squeezed shut as she runs, jostling you in her arms. When you hear the shouts outside, though, your eyes fly open of their own accord.
The only thing that registers is the men throwing flaming torches into the houses of the village before you hear your mother cry out and you're suddenly on the ground.
You sit up, arms stinging with cuts and chest aching from where you fell heavily on it. You look up, at the village. All around you are silhouettes against the burning homes. You see figures running, figures fighting, figures falling. Some are trolls like you. Others are strange, without horns.
Your eyes fall to your mother's still form.
You reach out to touch her, and your fingers just brush the cloth of her sleeve before you're suddenly yanked backwards by your collar. You kick and scream as you're lifted into the air.
"Let me go! Mama! MAMA!" You scream, trying to get free, to go to your mother. She's hurt; she's laying on the ground. Why isn't she getting up? She needs to get up!
You scream and struggle as you feel something cold and hard clamp down on your wrists behind your back. Strange hands carry you away from your mother's still form, and you choke on a sob, screaming in fury and pain.
The last thing you see is your village burning as the man throws you into the back of a wagon, slamming the barred doors shut.
You stare for a moment at the orange flames on black skies before turning to face the wall of the wagon, eyes closed as tightly as you could.
You can't stop smelling the smoke of your burning home, though.
You can't raise your bound hands to block out the screams.
Catz: Lovely day for a genocide.
That was sarcasm. I really, really hate genocide. But unfortunately, it happens. It's happened all through history. And because trolls are supposed to be really oppressed in When in Rome, I decided to write this about Karkat being captured.
By the way, I used Kristallnacht as the title because it connects to a real-life genocide; the holocaust. If you don't know, Kristallnacht means "night of broken glass" and refers to a pogrom against Jewish citizens in Nazi Germany and Austria. I thought the title was fitting, since it refers to real-life genocide and this is fictional genocide. I don't mean to make light of it; genocide is horrible. But I do find it fitting.
Let me know what you thought, readers. Love ya~