The withered old lady looks up and glares at the stranger, annoyed that her work had been interrupted. Brush, brush, brush. She only had so much time to complete the task.
"Who are you? Leave me alone. " The old lady mutters and then adds in a barely audible whisper, "The Guardians are close."
Ignoring this, the girl crouches down and picks up one of the many glass shards strewn over the floor in front of the old lady. She examines it and then puts it back.
"Mom."
"What?" The lady grumbles. Before the girl can answer, there is a gust of wind and the old lady immediately closes her eyes, clenching her wrinkly fingers into trembling fists. The shards turn into a pile of sand. She whispers, "What do you want? Quick."
"I...just wanted to use that word one last time." The girl sighs and stands up. "But I needed to say it to someone. Thought it'll help."
The old lady turns to face her, though her face carries a softer expression now. "Leaving, eh?" The girl nods. "Well, if you're looking for comfort in the usage of that word, you should search elsewhere, find something that hasn't already had its meaning wrenched away from every living tongue. " She practically spits out the last few words.
"Human beings are all family. Humans are connected by the ties of life. We will work together, benefit father, mother and child." The girl recites from memory. They both sigh.
"Which would you be using?" The old lady asks.
"The one closest. The Grae platform."
"Farewell then. You seem alright. Wish I knew you."
The girl bows and takes her leave from the house. "Bye, mom."
"Have...fun." The old lady mutters as the door closes. That girl wasn't the only one to have eventually chosen that path. Though she was the only one who seemed to want, at the slightest, a chance to turn back. Part of her wished she could have offered it.
Every female is a mother, every male a father, every youth a child. We are family, connected by the bonds of life. We will work together. We will benefit each other. We will love. And to choose otherwise is to desire for severed ties, in which the only option is death.
She shakes her head at this, ever so slightly. They carved these lines into the minds of every living person, though they never did care about how many lives had to be sacrificed to etch out their perfect little picture. After all, one cannot carve flesh without drawing blood. A whole ocean of blood, a crimson sea of people who have simply lost the will to live.
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