Painted Red

The hot sun above beat down like a searing fire, radiating onto the small desert city below. But in the middle of everything, a woman was bringing her young child to safety from the abuse and torture that would be in her future if she were to stay. Her feet ached in pain from stepping on broken glass, sharp rocks and the burning sand that decorated the floor. She couldn't pay attention to the pain, she had to keep running. She couldn't stop, not here, not now. She wasn't very far from the wall; all she had to do was climb over it and her child would be safe -- and most of all -- FREE of this awful cursed place. She would also have a chance to meet her father, who had told his wife that he would meet them on the other side. Her bare feet burned from running on the blazing hot sand, but she had to keep going. She couldn't stop now, not when she was so close! The distant shout of guards carried through the air. The thick jagged sandstone wall looming in front of her like a tall person mocking someone shorter than they are. She climbed up the towering stone wall, almost over. BANG! She could feel the sharp pain in the back of her neck. Her hand slowly began to let go of the wall as she fell to the ground. The woman's lifeless body fell to the ground in one rapid motion, with a bone cracking thud. The wooden basket she carried broke to reveal a small child wrapped in torn, ragged burlap curtains. The one who shot the mother of the infant slowly walked up to the innocent child, gun raised. Before the trigger was pulled, the other soldier fired, striking her partner down to the blood-soaked ground. She had a strange emotion that she couldn't recall ever having before. Sympathy? Regret? Passion? Whatever it was, she strangely liked the feeling of it. She knew she could not take responsibility for the orphaned infant. A thought hit her like a punch to the face. She ran down an alleyway where a slave lived, who would definitely take care of the child. Her hand silently knocked on the door, trying not to draw too much attention to the situation. A thin, unhealthy looking man slowly opened the door, looking surprised to see her. "Anise, what are you doing here?" he asked in a hoarse voice. He stared curiously at her. "Lawrence, I need you to do me a favor," she asked in as quiet of a voice as she could manage. Anise revealed the small child by moving some ripped silk blankets and other fabrics out of the way. "Why are you carrying a kid around? Where are the parents?" His voice got a little louder. Lawrence grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside of his home. The house was small, overwhelmingly hot and dark, illuminated only by a few small oil lamps and scented candles. It smelled of cinnamon, which was something Lawrence loved about it. Lawrence worked in garbage, so he often collected things and sold them after they were repaired, so there were a lot of spare objects sitting around the house. They both sat down next to one another on the tatted and torn sofa that had been patched with a wide range of fabrics. They looked each other in the eye to show they were ready to talk. "Her mother is dead, and I can not take care of her! I was positive that you would want to raise her," Anise burst out. Tears were forming in her eyes from the stress. Soon they flowed like fast rivers down her cheeks. "Why is that? And how do you think I'm going to be able to take care of this nuisance?" He stared back at her with intense eyes. If his left eyebrow hadn't been arched, he would have been rather creepy looking and unsettling. "You were supposed to have a kid, and I'll be sent to the gallows or something once people find out that I killed my assigned partner!" Anise rapidly spoke in one breath with a weary, stressed tone. She sat down, trying to calm herself. "Alright, I will take care of her. For you." Lawrence sighed; he held the child in his frail arms. Anise started to walk out the door when the thought hit him like a heavy wind. "When she gets older she will want to know about this. When should I tell her?" Anise thought of a random number in her head, "Seventeen -- you can tell her then," she replied quietly. She noticed Lawrence was about to say something, then quickly closed the door before he could say another word. She walked along the block, hoping she could get home and prepare before people found out and came for her. Maybe she could climb over the wall and be free, but then what would happen to Lawrence? She started running back to him to warn him but it was too late. The guards were approaching her. She couldn't have looked more suspicious as she began to run away. They grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away to a brass gate embedded with pretty stones. Two women in uniform opened the gate and beyond it was a large house, a house of the wealthy, the house of the president. A women sat on a chair behind a stone desk. Anise got a chill up her spine as their eyes met. "Execute her for me tomorrow when the sun is on the rise." "How?" One of them asked. "Lynch her" She snapped. She stood up knocking a few items off her desk, including a vase that shattered into hundreds of small pieces as it hit the hard stone floor. She was put in a cell for what felt like days, but it could have only been a few hours or so. She thought about what she had done in life and what others had done for her and then she realized it had all been for nothing. Lawrence would be caught and he and the child would meet the same fate. She couldn't help but think of the worst when she knew that she would be dead not too long from now. She waited, she pondered about her life, all she had done, all others had done for her. Eventually, she thought that there was nothing left to think about. Then a couple of heavily armed guards entered her room. She was stupid and decided to resist. She left hooked one on the jaw, making a cracking sound. If she was going down she wasn't going down without a fight. She could not stop the inevitable, this was her end. She grabbed the other one by the collar and slammed the body to the ground. A few more must have heard the struggle because they came bursting into her cell. Eventually, she got tired and gave up but she knew about half the guards that tried to stop her would be dead the next day. She was brought to the gallows and she mouthed goodby. The wooden trap door opened beneath her feet, the rope tightened around her neck, separating skull from spine, letting the rope shred through skin and muscles causing her head to pop off, then it tumbled into the crowd. The sand was painted red.