[The streets of the tiny village are in chaos, with shouting, terrified people running every which way: in some cases loading up carts with what little valuables they have, and in other cases securing their homes. You turn in a circle, searching the faces, and when you don't see who you're looking for you cry out:]
Mama! Mama!
[You hear your father shouting your name - "Callisto!" - and suddenly he appears, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you along, rattling out assurances in Ancient Greek as you go. Just as you pass the butcher's shop, the army arrives: fearsome men on horseback, carrying swords and cutting down any fighting man who dares stand in their way. At the front of the pack rides their leader, a woman every bit as formidable as the men around her. A man stands in front of his house to prevent them from coming in and ransacking the place, but though he carries a sword of his own (tarnished and dull, but a sword all the same), he's no match for the warriors. You watch as he's run through, and you scream as your father clamps his hand over your eyes and pulls you away.
The barn, when you arrive, is a welcome sight. Your mother and older sister are already there, and you run to them, letting them both wrap their arms around you as you sob. Your father joins the huddle, and for a few minutes, you all just stand there, holding each other and basking in the relief of your safety.
It's your sister who first notices that something is amiss. Lifting her head, she sniffs the air, asking in Greek if the rest of you can smell that. You've buried your face in your mother's tunic, but once you pull back, you can sense it, too: there's the scent of smoke in the air, and the crackle of flames - faint at first, but growing louder and louder by the second. Your father is the first to realize the implications of this, the first to think about how fast the village's wood and thatch buildings will burn. Shouting in alarm, he grabs you and your sister's hands and races for the front door, your mother at his heels - only to abruptly yank you back as the fire reaches the barn you're sheltering in, and the front portion of the roof caves in on itself.
Everything, from that point on, is a blur. There's no back door. There are no windows. There's no way out except through the fire, and in desperation, your father tries it - grabbing up a fallen wooden beam and attempting to use it to break through the debris, hoping he can clear a path for his family to rush through before the flames consume them. Instead, the debris catches fire, and then the beam catches fire, and then your father catches fire. He falls screaming to the ground, beating at the flames, and your mother rushes to help him, and you want to help him too, but your sister pulls you back. Talking hurriedly, tears and terror in her voice, she points out a small rotting section of the back wall. She slams her shoulder into it, creating a hole just big enough to squeeze through. Your mother comes up next to you, and you look back. Your father still lies on the ground, crumpled and still and overwhelmed in flames, but your mother pleads to you not to look and you obey, turning away.
The hole your sister made in the rotted wall is just big enough for you to squeeze through, and just before you try, you panic and try to pull back - because you're small enough to fit, but your sister is almost the size of an adult, and your mother is even bigger. But they're insistent, pressing you forward, repeating "Akolouthoúmen soí, akolouthoúmen soí - we'll follow you" as they shove you through. Jagged wood scrapes your skin and tears at your clothing, but you pop through the other side, back out into the fire-ravaged, warlord-ravaged village, where there are fewer people now but somehow even more screams. You turn back to the barn and the hole, scrambling across the ground, reaching for your mother and your sister, wanting to help pull them through next - but all there is is fire and smoke, stinging your eyes and making you cough. You hear one of them scream your name again, and you scream back - Mama Mama Mama Thalia Thalia Thalia - and then their screams are just screams with no words to them, and so are yours. The rest of the barn collapses in a tangle of wood and thatch and limbs - wood that has sheltered you, limbs that have held and comforted you, and you know deep inside you that none of those things will do anything like that for you ever again.
You don't know how long it takes you to tear your eyes away from the burning wreckage, and the charred, unmoving bodies of your family that you can just make out if you squint. But eventually, you stumble back, and take in the rest of the village again. The ruins of houses, none untouched by the fire. The bodies lying in the streets - some stabbed, and even more burned. The men on horseback, some gathering loot and others just looking over the destruction. The female leader, looking fierce and fearsome and furious. You stare at her. You you don't blink.
You feel like you'll never see anything else, ever again.]
MEMORY; cw: family death/fire death
Mama! Mama!
[You hear your father shouting your name - "Callisto!" - and suddenly he appears, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you along, rattling out assurances in Ancient Greek as you go. Just as you pass the butcher's shop, the army arrives: fearsome men on horseback, carrying swords and cutting down any fighting man who dares stand in their way. At the front of the pack rides their leader, a woman every bit as formidable as the men around her. A man stands in front of his house to prevent them from coming in and ransacking the place, but though he carries a sword of his own (tarnished and dull, but a sword all the same), he's no match for the warriors. You watch as he's run through, and you scream as your father clamps his hand over your eyes and pulls you away.
The barn, when you arrive, is a welcome sight. Your mother and older sister are already there, and you run to them, letting them both wrap their arms around you as you sob. Your father joins the huddle, and for a few minutes, you all just stand there, holding each other and basking in the relief of your safety.
It's your sister who first notices that something is amiss. Lifting her head, she sniffs the air, asking in Greek if the rest of you can smell that. You've buried your face in your mother's tunic, but once you pull back, you can sense it, too: there's the scent of smoke in the air, and the crackle of flames - faint at first, but growing louder and louder by the second. Your father is the first to realize the implications of this, the first to think about how fast the village's wood and thatch buildings will burn. Shouting in alarm, he grabs you and your sister's hands and races for the front door, your mother at his heels - only to abruptly yank you back as the fire reaches the barn you're sheltering in, and the front portion of the roof caves in on itself.
Everything, from that point on, is a blur. There's no back door. There are no windows. There's no way out except through the fire, and in desperation, your father tries it - grabbing up a fallen wooden beam and attempting to use it to break through the debris, hoping he can clear a path for his family to rush through before the flames consume them. Instead, the debris catches fire, and then the beam catches fire, and then your father catches fire. He falls screaming to the ground, beating at the flames, and your mother rushes to help him, and you want to help him too, but your sister pulls you back. Talking hurriedly, tears and terror in her voice, she points out a small rotting section of the back wall. She slams her shoulder into it, creating a hole just big enough to squeeze through. Your mother comes up next to you, and you look back. Your father still lies on the ground, crumpled and still and overwhelmed in flames, but your mother pleads to you not to look and you obey, turning away.
The hole your sister made in the rotted wall is just big enough for you to squeeze through, and just before you try, you panic and try to pull back - because you're small enough to fit, but your sister is almost the size of an adult, and your mother is even bigger. But they're insistent, pressing you forward, repeating "Akolouthoúmen soí, akolouthoúmen soí - we'll follow you" as they shove you through. Jagged wood scrapes your skin and tears at your clothing, but you pop through the other side, back out into the fire-ravaged, warlord-ravaged village, where there are fewer people now but somehow even more screams. You turn back to the barn and the hole, scrambling across the ground, reaching for your mother and your sister, wanting to help pull them through next - but all there is is fire and smoke, stinging your eyes and making you cough. You hear one of them scream your name again, and you scream back - Mama Mama Mama Thalia Thalia Thalia - and then their screams are just screams with no words to them, and so are yours. The rest of the barn collapses in a tangle of wood and thatch and limbs - wood that has sheltered you, limbs that have held and comforted you, and you know deep inside you that none of those things will do anything like that for you ever again.
You don't know how long it takes you to tear your eyes away from the burning wreckage, and the charred, unmoving bodies of your family that you can just make out if you squint. But eventually, you stumble back, and take in the rest of the village again. The ruins of houses, none untouched by the fire. The bodies lying in the streets - some stabbed, and even more burned. The men on horseback, some gathering loot and others just looking over the destruction. The female leader, looking fierce and fearsome and furious. You stare at her. You you don't blink.
You feel like you'll never see anything else, ever again.]