Darxies

The Power Within Them-1

The Power Within Them

A horrible sound flooded the atmosphere and filled his being with awe. He felt a shiver reap in his body and covered his head with his hands. A small child, nothing more was at that moment, a frightened boy in the face of the inevitable.

The commotion continued, even more intensely this time. It was reminiscent of a b****y explosion in an old mine, and the main perpetrator was the insatiable hunger for human greed. More gold, deeper excavations, more wounds. And he was watching, motionless, until he heard the birds fluttering in the cages held by the workers to warn them. It was too late though, the collapse covered everything. Nature's punishment for this violent carving. If the mother earth gets angry, no one escapes her wrath. Dust and dismembered corpses everywhere. Hands, feet, fingers, everything turned black carbon.

And the dream ended, as useless as his life. No survivors, no salvation for him and his loved ones. "Everything was in vain in the end," he murmured, dizzy. But what was he saying? In fact, nothing bad happened.

But the sound was repeated, along with pictures this time. Without stopping and without a trace of hesitation, he wiped his ears, almost scratching them, as if it were a rusty rake that found a root in the ground and struggled to free it. But battles are not won that way, and unfortunately, he had long forgotten that.

He opened his eyes for a moment and the nightmare faded at once. He did not want to remember any of the distress messages he had been receiving lately. A new day was beginning and he had no intention of spending it drowning in dark reasoning. He knew very well what to do. He took a huge black bag, picked up the rubbish he wanted to get rid of and threw it in the trash. So easy, everything went back to normal - just the way he wanted it. The Mediterranean sun shone brighter than any star.

Fergus growled in displeasure and turned side. For one thing he was sure, he had no intention of getting up early that morning. At the same time, however, a child's hand was pulling hard on the white sheets that covered him. "It's still early, go to bed," were the few words he could articulate with difficulty.

"Come on Dad wake up, Mr. Nikos is waiting for you. He brought the fish!" Tara shouted enthusiastically.

Fergus slowly turned his head. He tried to hide under the pillow, but failed. Tara stood over him like a watchful guard. He had no choice but to answer her. "Are you telling me the truth or is it one of your usual tricks to get up?" he asked suspiciously and looked at her with half-closed eyes.

Tara let her teeth chatter for a few seconds, but decided to ignore her father's last comment and started jumping on the bed. She looked like a little fawn wandering carefree in the forest. A creature so innocent that no animal would want to kill, except out of necessity of survival, in order not to waste such beauty. When she got tired, she fell on her father and started shaking him. "Everyone is out waiting for us. They sent me to call you. So go ahead…you are the only one missing," she answered impatiently.

Fergus, however, was not yet convinced by his daughter's statements. "Do you know what the ancient Greeks used to do to children who lied?" Tara, without losing her courage, replied stunningly, "I am nine years old; I am not scared of something like that. After all, one thing I have learned is that it is not the messenger’s fault who brings bad news!"

Her father laughed out loud, admiring how sharp she was at the same time. "But we can tickle him!" he commented, and with a sharp movement he snatched her in his arms. "Tell me now, miss," he continued, "do you think you know more than your old father?"

Tara laughed wickedly. "Hmm, you are not that old, you still have a few years ahead of you," she said playfully. "What? Now you'll see!" Fergus shouted and threw the sheet over him. He grabbed Tara and started tickling her, but giving her room to repel him. He always let her win in the end.

Father and daughter continued like this for a long time and when they sat down, Fergus sighed and said, "Couldn't you look a little more like your mother?"

Tara looked at him inquisitively with her big expressive eyes and thought for a while. Then she replied, "You would not have a weak spot for me if I were like

the rest of my siblings." Once again with her insightful thought she caught her father unprepared.

"Ηey, the little one speaks with rudeness. Now you will pay little monster for your insolence!" he exclaimed, taking on a pompous theatrical style and starting tickling again. Fergus now knew that his plans for a good sleep until the afternoon were certainly thwarted.

Tara did not waste time and with a mane like a cat turned and made her counterattack. She climbed on her father's left hand and after making sure she immobilized him she bowed to his ribs.

Now Fergus was the defenseless prey at the mercy of a brilliant nine-year-old. Pretending he could not react, he accepted the tickling of his naughty daughter, one by one. "No, no, stop. Ι surrender! You are so strong, I can’t beat you," he said begging, until the moment when the characteristic creaking of the door was heard. Father and daughter turned at the same time, facing the mother of the family with a small dose of disappointment.

Margaret, a brown-blonde woman, half Greek on her mother's side, was what without exaggeration would be characterized as the ultimate example of beauty and elegance. Even a god could bend in front of her excessive grace. This statement, Margie, as her friends fondly called her, often heard by many. What they did not know, however, is that they were not so far from the truth. She had indeed managed to seduce and subdue an omnipotent being, as the predator tames a savage. For this reason, every time she heard her being told something similar, she did everything in her power to change the subject.

And Fergus, however, wasn’t any less attractive. He had a tight and husky body, without any special effort of training, something that would make anyone jealous. His face was adorned with voluntary cheekbones and intense blue eyes whose gaze alone could penetrate even steel doors. All this was complemented by a strange force that came from within him, and was felt by anyone standing even ten meters away from him. There was a curious harmony around him, which attracted everything alive that approached him.

Fergus was well aware of the influence he had on humans and other creatures and had taken full advantage of it up to a certain age. Although he wished many times that he did not have this ability, he used it mainly for fun, while deep down he did it to irritate his father. As he matured and changed his lifestyle, he chose not to use it anymore, with a few exceptions. Among them was his acquaintance with Margaret. From the first moment he saw her he knew he wanted to make her his own, even if it meant his destruction.

Before Margaret, only one more presence had really touched him but he had lost it very early and violently. A different and rare girl who fell victim to human cruelty and vanity. Her absence had marked him strongly and threw him into a vicious circle of grief from which he did not want to escape. From then on, Fergus was blindly guided by a shady self-loathing, until Margie appeared and everything made sense. One color now dominated his world, that of life.

Fergus would move heaven and earth for her sake. The two of them formed the perfect couple in every way. Balance, both in roles and responsibilities. Raising three children was not the easiest thing to do. Still, they made it look like a walk in the park - as natural as breathing. But the best part of their relationship had to do with their feelings. After thirteen years together there was still the same tension in everything, even in the s****l part that was better than ever.

Margaret smiled faintly and looked at him meaningfully. "I see that you are still in bed, and as if that were not enough, you also dragged our daughter who came to wake you up."

Tara interrupted her wanting to clarify her position. "It was not my fault! I did everything I could to get him up, but he challenged me. I had to make him pay."

Margaret knew very well she could not go against her daughter. If all three children inherit their father's stubbornness and determination, she thought, then I'm really sorry for anyone who tries to get in their way. "Let it be," she replied, taking a step to leave the room. "But don’t be late, we are waiting for you in the yard. The fish are so fresh that they are still sprouting," she told them. Her daughter's unexpected response, however, made her stop.

"Yes, some were still alive," Tara said spontaneously, "their hearts were beating fast and hard. I felt them fighting to breathe." Fergus and Margie exchanged troubled glances, as if someone pressed a button of danger inside them. Margaret swallowed hard while it was obvious that she was very upset by her words.

Tara understood their concern and hurried to find out why. "What happened? Did I say something that bothered you?"

Margie made an attempt to change the subject, "aaa I think I heard your brother calling you."

Tara ignored her mother's comment and insisted on getting the answers she wanted. "Why do you suddenly look so worried? Did I do something wrong?"

Neither of them, however, found the courage to explain to her at that moment. "Do not worry, it's nothing," her father finally commented, showing a fake smile on his face, "we're just surprised, that's it."

Tara felt offended by her parents' attitude and started blushing with irritation. "No, you are lying! You promised me that we would not hide anything from now on."

Fergus put his hand on Tara's shoulder to reassure her, but she abruptly pulled away from him.

At the same time, Margie came closer and sat on the edge of the bed, "Well, listen to what will happen," she said in a soothing tone, "let’s enjoy our day as beautifully as possible and I promise you that very soon we will all have a discussion together and we will explain to you why we reacted like that."

As she spoke, before she could even finish her sentence, Margaret's mind traveled miles. She had already gone through thousands of analyzes and so many other ways on how to tell her daughter the truth or at least part of it. She wondered how she could explain to a nine-year-old girl, secrets and rituals, so incredible and magical, associated with her ancestors. She wondered how torturous the moment of revelation would be for everyone, but he knew it was something that had to be done. But how? Everything in their lives was now so calm that she could not find the right words to describe to her daughter her origins and what was happening in their lives when they lived on the other side of the Atlantic.

Suddenly, everything stopped and Margie heard a female voice saying to her, "You cannot hide from destiny, do not be sad my mistress, one day, somehow we will meet again."

Lately, she remembered this sentence often, and every time she did, she was getting moved and irritated. "I had told her a thousand times to call me by my name, but she kept calling me 'mistress'. Wow! what a mistress. "A good mistress does not abandon her people… Who knows, maybe one day we will meet again… in another life," she thought while at the same time she felt an intense sadness pressing her between her breasts. Soon after, she returned to reality and her current worries.

Margie's thought kept running, right where she left her. This time faster and scarier, without an emergency brake. The train of her mind had caught fire, bringing before her images that caused her fear and anxiety.