Grace for The Fallen

The Fallen

Daetheia Grace

  The day, normal on every account apart from the news received that morning, passed by in a fast-moving haze, and before I knew it, I was on the bus going home. The chatter on the bus was livelier than it had been this morning, with the motivation of the school day being over sparking most of the conversations. However, it had a slightly subdued undertone to it. Like if you laughed too hard or spoke too loudly, the entire planet of Donadas would shatter. But this new solemnity was not because an innocent was brutally slaughtered just the night before, but rather because another ‘monster’ had been found in the first place. As appalling as it was, people were not worried about an innocent – a child – being killed, but they cared that they’re safety was now apparently in jeopardy. But that’s what ‘they’ had led everyone to believe. That, as long as Elves were around, no one was safe.

   If you wanted to speak about Elves in a public place, you had to call them ‘The Fallen’. It was a name given to Elves by ‘them’, the Elf-killers. Nobody really knew who ‘they’ were, just as nobody had ever caught a glimpse of one of their assassins at work. But, somehow, everyone still trusted them to know what was best regarding our safety. They had proven themselves to be trustworthy, I guess, but the fact that everyone just blindly trusted them still didn’t sit well with me.

   I said goodbye to Ariston as the bus pulled up in front of my house, Thanking Mr Avery on the way out. I stopped outside my house for a moment as the bus pulled away. I gazed at the intricate trellis adorned with vines that curled up the side of our two-story house, the bright green leaves stark against the grey of the exposed-brick wall. Four long windows – two downstairs and two upstairs – were set into the wall, the two downstairs separated by the heavy wooden door set between them.  I followed the line of the green, domed roof that capped it all off with my eyes, seeing how it flowed elegantly away from the house to create an entrance-space, casting a shadow over the pavement in front of the door and over a bit of vibrant, green grass from the garden beyond.

   It was certainly beautiful. Yet my eyes didn’t miss the high, impenetrable fences topped with electric wiring. The security beams dotted around the large garden, concealed in various bushes and flower beds. The multiple, heavy locks on the front door. I sighed. Sometimes it felt like we were being kept inside instead of keeping other things out. I shrugged and thought, It's still home, even if it does sometimes feel like a prison instead. I walked up to the door and opened it. At least I didn’t have to unlock all the locks every single time I came in. One of the perks of having your blood grafted into the security system, I guess.

   “I’m home!” I called.

   “We’re in the lounge!” I heard the faint voice of my mom coming from the right.

   I put my bag on the shoe stand in the entrance hall and walked through the door to the right, grabbing an apple from the kitchen on my way to the lounge. The only sound was the clacking of my school shoes on the tiles and the loud crunch every time I bit into my apple. I finally made it to the lounge and saw my mom sitting on the couch with Lucas sitting on a beanie at her feet, doing his homework at the coffee table. Well, at least he was meant to be doing his homework. At the moment, he was telling my mom a story about… a pig and a soccer ball? He was enthusiastically waving his arms with a huge smile on his face as my mom laughed loudly, shaking her head in exasperation at whatever the pig was doing.

   I paused on the threshold of the room, leaning against the doorway and simply watching them. I loved my family so much. I loved seeing them happy. When there was a pause for breath in the laughter I stepped forward.

   “I don’t even want to know,” I grinned and kissed my mom on the cheek. “Hi Mom, hi Lukey,” I lent down and gave my brother a hug.

   "Hey, Tay-Tay."

   “Hello darling, how was school?”

   “Not bad, but not particularly exciting either,” I rolled my eyes, “Some upsetting news in the paper this morning, though.” I glanced sideways at my mom, trying to decipher how she felt about it without seeming too interested. She didn’t even seem to care.

   “Ah, yes, but let’s not talk about that, shall we?” I gritted my teeth. I guess I couldn’t blame my mom, she had been living under the Elf-killers’ influence a lot longer than I had. But still. Couldn’t she show at least a bit of remorse? The Elfling had been just one year older than Lucas. I decided I would have a talk with my parents tonight.

   “Fine,” I nodded in a seemingly agreeable way. “What did you both do today?” I asked, changing the subject. Mom seemed relieved and grabbed onto the new subject, speaking extensively about her day and encouraging Lucas to do the same. I did love my mom. So much. But let’s just say… there were definitely things we didn’t agree on.

   Before I knew it, an hour and a half had passed, and it was 5 o’clock. We were sitting at the dinner table eating Enchiladas since it was a Friday night so we were allowed to have 'junk' food. I found Enchiladas pretty healthy, but I wasn't complaining. I love Enchiladas. But I digress. Friendly banter and discussion flew around the table, most of the questions directed at my dad, Alexander, whom we hadn't seen all day.

   My whole family was rather tall, but no one even came close to my dad. He towered over all of us, his long legs making him seem taller than he actually was. I was going to be the shortest out of all of us, if Lucas’ shoe size was any indication, but I didn’t mind. I had definitely inherited Dad’s long legs, though. My dad was a kindly man and ruggedly handsome, choosing to keep a bit of stubble on his chin each morning, his warm brown eyes complementing his pale complexion and black hair. Lucas’ face looked like my mom’s, but my face didn’t look like either of my parents’ faces. It was strange. People always assumed that I was a mix of the two, or looked like one of my grandparents of something, but I wasn’t so sure. My face looked nothing like any of my family member’s that I had seen, or whose pictures I had seen. The only way you could tell that we were related was my auburn hair.

   We finished dinner and everyone began to slowly disperse, Lucas taking the plates to the kitchen, my mom and dad heading off to the lounge, and I headed to my room. I sat on my bed after I had changed into something comfier than my school clothes, thinking about how I was going to broach the subject of Elves with my parents. After a while of pointless pondering, I sighed and stood up, my socks making no sound against the tiles as I plodded towards the lounge. I decided to just take it as it goes and hope for the best. Not the best strategy, I know, but it was the best I had.

   I arrived in the lounge to find my parents still there, now with twin cups of coffee in their hands. I cleared my throat to get their attention. They turned to me, a question in their eyes.

   “Do you have a minute?” I asked, fidgeting slightly. My dad smiled.

   “Of course.” He patted the seat next to him. I smiled but instead pulled up a chair to sit in front of them. My mom’s eyebrows rose a bit, but they stayed silent.

   “Good,” I sat down and clasped my hands, my face turning serious, “Because we need to talk.”     

-Rebecca Underwood