This was a special place, a sacred space. People used to come here to worship, to remember, to pay their respects. No weapons were allowed in and whoever tried to pick a fight, would face the harshest of consequences. This is how it used to be. Today, it seemed it was just another hut filled with curiosities. A bull’s skull, wings of a raven, horns of a goat. A lot of herbs were hanging next to the fireplace filling the place with the scent of magic and mystery.
The whole hut was dark but it was pleasant darkness. It meant the safety of a tribe. In the roof above the fireplace, there was an opening. That’s how the smoke came out and how the light got in.
She was sitting inside, legs crossed and eyes closed. Her face was covered with paintings made with watered clay. She was neither young nor was she old. A quiet chant escaped from her chest and was carried by the smoke from a small fireplace inside. The air smelled with charcoal. A comforting smell. A smell of roof above your head. She didn’t have much time. They would come and they would get her. And after that, it would be over. She continued chanting and brought her arms above her head.
“Oooh fire, give me power,” she whispered. “Give me hope and give me courage. Oooh fire, give me power. Give me hope and give me courage.”
There were sounds outside. People were talking and laughing. Someone was cutting wood, someone was singing and kids were playing in the water. She didn’t have much time left. She had to hurry. They might come at any moment now.
“Oooh earth, give me strength,” she continued “give me patience and give me wisdom. Oooh earth, give me strength, give me the patience and give me wisdom. Oooh water, give me…”
“Mom?” a voice from outside of the hut broke her concentration. “What are you doing in there? There is a line in front of this hut. Others want to see it as well and we want to see the rest of the park.”
They came for her and she had to leave.
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