My Sister's Keeper: Chapter eight [NaNoWriMo]

This is the fifth installment of my NaNoWriMo challenge: My Sister's Keeper, chapter eight.
With this chapter I have uploaded a total of approx 10,400 words. Total written to date is 14,300 words.

Chapters One and Two (Part One)
Chapters Three and Four (Part Two)
Chapters Five and Six (Part Three)
Chapter Seven (Part Four)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jelena entered her apartment and placed her keys on the sideboard. She lived in a pre-war built apartment, in a complex of buildings that served as housing for the staff who oversaw the refugee camp. There were several other refugee camps further north, which Jelena assumed were just like this. They seemed to have been built where there were adequate facilities. But she had never seen them. This place had been her world since the war started.

She walked into the living room and took in the view. Unlike her office, her apartment overlooked the old city and the ocean in the distance. Being home gave her a chance to leave the reminder of her works difficulties behind, at least for a few hours. The sun was setting over the ocean, leaving a trail of bright sunlight illuminating the water. The sense of space she felt taking in the view helped her put her mind at ease. The light of the sun is leaving us, she thought. But it will return, it always does. May it bring some good news this time. Some change in our fate. Some change in my fate.

“Close blinds,” Jelena said to the apartments automated control system. “Lights on.” The blinds closed, closing off the room to the outside world. The overhead lights turned on, seeming to emphasise the smallness of the world she now knew. It's not the same as sunlight, she told herself. But it will do. She fell back on to the sofa, sinking deeply into it. The days aches and pains felt comforted for the first time.

“TV on, channel twelve,” she said, and waited as the large television screen in front of her came to life. The news was on. It was always on when she got home. What's the point in watching the news? she thought. What are they going to tell me? That the war is still going, that more innocent people are dying. That there's still no solution in sight. The images of war started bombarding her vision. Just like they did everyday she got home. Why do I even watch this? she asked herself. She felt fixated, like a part of her had an innate need to receive these images; to be continually told how bad everything was.

Jelena was ready to finally switch off the steady flow of destruction that she had welcomed into her living room, when the host mentioned the recent destruction that had been meted out in the interior cities. “Kirban has suffered the heaviest destructions,” he said, over images designed to reinforce his message. “Further inland, the city of Talias, which had been holding out against the onslaught has finally succumbed,” he continued. There were images now of what looked like hundred, if not thousands of refugees making their way out of the destroyed cities. It never ends, she told herself.

Jelena's thoughts drowned out the television's constant stream of noise. Most of the refugees that she and her colleagues dealt with had made their way from those cities, over the previous months. Now they were being completely emptied. How many more children will be amongst those numbers, she thought. And will Mars take all of them, now or in the future? She wondered if the human race still had the ability to colonise any other planets. Could we just leave the warmongers here, until they all destroy themselves? Maybe then the rest of us could return to start again. Well that's what I would do, if I had any say in the matter, she told herself emphatically. But I'm not God, she reminded herself, I'm just another victim of the evil that he allowed into the blueprint for life.

“TV off,” she said. She wanted no more reminders of reality, at least for tonight. She sat back into the sofa and let it take her weight.

As she started to fall asleep she was startled by what appeared to be the blurred movement of something, or someone, leading out of the living room and into her kitchen. She rubbed her eyes and thought that it must have been the remnants of a dream. Until the movement return, and stopped. Standing in the kitchen doorway, looking directly at her, stood a young girl. Now I must be dreaming, Jelena told herself. She felt a flood of thoughts enter her mind, but was unable to express any of them. The words would not form in her mouth to lend voice to her thoughts; who are you? Why are you here? How did you get here? She just sat and stared at the girl.

“I have something to show you,” she said. “Follow me.”

Jelena found herself in some sort of hypnotic daze. She followed dutifully, as the girl exited the apartment and walked to the stairwell. Where are we going? she wondered. What's driving me to continue following? Jelena felt stuck between wanting to follow on anyway, to see what this was all about and where it was leading. And wanting to extract herself from this situation. Is this child even real, or is she an apparition?

They entered the stairwell and walked upstairs, towards the roof. Jelena lived on the seventh floor; there were ten in her building. They passed the eighth floor, then the ninth, and reached the tenth. Are we stopping here, she wondered. The child kept walking towards the roof. Jelena kept following.

Jelena hadn't been up on the roof in a long time. She used to like coming up here. The views of the surrounding city were incredible. So much to see, and for so far. But half of the view was now taken up by the sprawl of the refugee camp. The city was intact, at least. No destruction had been visited upon it. It was a well defended area, and Jelena believed it would remain safe. It has too, she told herself. We are all dependent on this place now.

“Why are we up here?” Jelena asked. The girl just stood and looked at her. She had a serene look to her, like she was untouched by this world and its destruction. Is she real, Jelena wondered. What defines real?

The girl interrupted Jelena's thoughts, “What do you see?” she asked.

Jelena looked around. It had started to get dark. The city's lights were on in all direction. But she could still make out the urban sprawl around her. “The city, and the refugee camp,” she replied.

“What else can you see?” the girl inquired.

Jelena looked around. What else? Did I miss something. “The ocean,” she said tentatively.

“What else can you see?”

What else, Jelena asked herself. What else is there. She looked around. Then she saw the child's eyes point upward. Change your perspective, she told herself. She looked up, to the sky. “The sky,” she answered, with a little more confidence.

“Yes, the sky. Do you know why I would bring you here to show you the sky?”

I have no idea, she told herself. None at all. But I want to know what her answer is. “No, I don't,” Jelena replied.

The child pointed to the night sky. “Up there – for you – that is where you will find life. That is where you will find happiness.”

Jelena stared at the sky above. To where the girl was pointing. The only thing up there, she thought, that has any relevance for me, is Mars. Is she talking about Mars?

“Do you mean Mars?” Jelena asked her. The girl nodded her head.

“Down here is death and destruction. Of which you have known your fair share.”

This girl must be an angel Jelena thought. How does she know me? Tears started to flow as she contemplated what was occurring. If there is no God then who is speaking to me right now? And why have I been chosen, why am I being allowed to leave this forsaken place?

The girl took hold of Jelena's hand. For such small hands they hold so much power, she thought, as she felt the child's energy surge through her. What is happening. “Mars offers you a chance at a new beginning,” she told Jelena. “Do not turn your back on this chance to heal the past.”

The past, she thought, it wont let me forget. “Not until you heal it,” the girl told her. Did she just read my thoughts? The girl nodded. She continued to hold Jelena's hand. “You are being guided, and that guidance will continue,” the girl told Jelena. “But do not close your eyes to the truth. Remain vigilant, for there are signs every where but you will not see them if you close your eyes.”

A child that speaks in cryptic riddles. Jelena pondered the conversation. She must be an angel. The girl's eyes opened wide as she looked at Jelena, but she said nothing.

“And to answer your first question. My name is Emerald.” And with that the girl vanished from Jelena's vision. She found herself alone, standing on the rooftop of her apartment building, the city lights stretching all around. But no child with her. No more Emerald. Yes, Jelena thought, she really was an angel.

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This fiction is my own work, written for Steemit
Image Credit: Unsplash.com

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