The day they came for us

It was six forty three when they came. My daughter, young and pretty, came to find me. There were strange men in the town, she had informed me, asking after us. The greengrocers son had run to the house to tell us. Unsavoury characters, apparently. I had been standing on the rocky outcrop that towers over and protects our little dwelling. It was only the two of us then. We lived on our own. There was no father, no little sister, no protective brother, no annoying in-laws, no one but us. Of course there were the other people in the village. We got on with them, and they were kind, pleasant people. However, perhaps in some kind of fit of precognition, we never grew close to them. They were never really a part of our lives.

Up on the rocky hill where I had sat the wind had beaten me mercilessly. The sun was throwing splashes of gold, crimson and rose into the sky, the colour and fading warmth being blown over the land, falling and settling in the windows of the little cottages in the village below, catching in street corners, bathing the town in those last dying rays of daytime. From my vantage point I could see the small black figures climbing the long winding road leading to our humble dwelling.

Mia, my daughter, was musing aloud as to who the strangers could be; why they might want us. How we've lived up here her whole life, how we'd never done wrong by anyone, how strange it is that mean looking men would come for us. She was voicing the questions whirling around within my own mind. Why would they want us? Goodness only knows we've never done anything bad in our lives before. We don't even squash the spiders in the bathtub!

We had dashed back to the house. I was torn; should I stay and see what they want, or leave before they arrive? Obviously, running away makes us look guilty, but from what that big-eared boy had said, they didn't look as though they wanted to talk. Some serious looking weapons, apparently. We're leaving, I decided quickly. Not much time. A few important possessions into a bag, and we're off. Down the other side of the mountain, night beginning to settle heavily on the land. The bag on my back, heavy with our whole lives inside, yet disconcertingly light. Mia's hand in mine, warmth against the settling chill of dark. The turmoil of red, black, muddy green, muted purple and grey around her slowly settled, cooled, regained something of her usual golden glow; faded to a silvery plum.

We left behind everything we'd known for over seven years, not once looking back.

*****

"Mummy?"
I'm pulled gently from my sleep by Mia's soft voice.
"Yes sweety?" I whispered sleepily.
"Bethan came with me. She followed us. You don't mind if she stays with us, do you mummy?"
"Bethan?" I was awake now. Bethan was Mia's friend from the village. They were best friends. Although I'd never seen the girl, I knew all about her from the stories. But Mia had never invited her friends back to the house, and I'd never pushed it. Most parents wouldn't let their children go up the mountain to see some crackpot old woman and her funny little daughter. It was enough for me that they let the children play together.

"Where is she? She can't very well stay with us!"

"Why not mummy?"

"She has to go back to her family!"

"But she doesn't have a family. Not a real one like other people do, anyway…."

At this I paused. Doesn't have a family….. "What do you mean sweetie?"
The figure approaching behind her stopped me short however. A girl, similar in age to Mia, fairly plain yet with big grey eyes. She walked slowly, her bare feet making no sound beneath her long silvery dress. She seemed to drift in and out of reality, her features seeming normal one moment then transparent the next.

"Mummy, Bethan's family is in my head. She lives in Nowhere but comes out to play with me when I'm lonely."

As Bethan reached us, I saw a small boy materialise behind her. My daughters two best friends.

"And you must be Tim," I directed at him, to which he nodded solemnly. As one child appeared more solid, the other appeared to fade.

Well then, we're all just going to have to travel together!