Day 2 - A World on Fire

Zarah listened carefully to the sound of her footsteps, calculating their weight and echo to be sure they were the only ones she heard.  The church was only a few blocks away.  As she descended a hill, she could hear the crunch of gravel beneath her feet.  A streetlight burst and fizzled out above her, making her heart race.  The not too unfamiliar sound seemed like a piece of the soundtrack of her life.  Things crashing to the ground had provided the backdrop for everything ever since the day the President signed the decree that all minorities be registered.  That was the first step to their descent into hell.  The tattoos, and the regular searches came shortly after.  Zarah was always amazed at how quickly a society could descend into the hate within itself.

A different noise across the street startled her and she crept to the shadows in between two apartment buildings.  Zarah squinted to see what had caused it, but could only see shadowed movement.  She calculated that she still had about 40 minutes until the meeting started and they locked the church doors for safety.  She still had time, but there was no way of knowing if the shadowy figure across the street was friend or foe.  It moved, slowly and cautiously and kept to the shadows.  Zarah waited and watched as the figure tentatively moved in the same direction she was travelling, down the hill.  She lingered until it had gone about a block ahead of her and proceeded to continue her course.  She brushed up against the brick buildings and shied from whatever streetlights were still glowing.  To her benefit, there were few.  There was so little light that she could actually see the stars shining high above the city, a sight very rarely seen in such a place.  

Keeping the strange figure on her radar, she moved with little more disruption, but not without the fear that sat in the pit of her stomach like a boulder.  She carried the weight of it with her every waking minute.  It even invaded her dreams.  Zarah walked, keeping pace with the shadow ahead.  She could see a few blocks ahead a lonely looking brick building with a sign in front, the kind you can change the letters on to suit your message.  It read "Where is our salvation?" and draped over the edge of it was a green scarf.  The group's secret meeting places were always marked with a green item of some sort, like a ribbon, a blotch of paint on a door, or a scarf.  The shadow ahead of her made its way toward the green marker as well.  She hung back and waited to see if it would ascend the stairs to the door or not.  She observed it cautiously look around (there was no way to tell if the mystery person was man or woman) and then knock on the door.  The door opened a sliver and words were exchanged.  Then the stranger disappeared into the church.  It was Zarah's turn now.

Zarah silently walked up to the door and knocked.  A crack of light broke the darkness as the door creaked in protest to the movement.  A gruff voice spoke. "How can I help you?"

"My aunt Edith baked you a pie," Zarah replied.  The door opened just enough to allow her in, and it was shut behind her noiselessly.  She found herself in a candlelit foyer, lit by a single flame.  The gruff doorman pointed toward a dark hallway where she could see a faint light at the end.  She made her way down the hall, which gave way to stairs leading to the basement.  The building smelled of old wood and the fragrance of dirt when it is wet. As she descended into the basement, she could feel the air dampen.  But, her spirits didn't.  At the end of the staircase was another dimly lit room, full of shining faces.  These were the faces of her revolution.  These were the faces of love, hope, charity and acceptance she had come to know over the past many months.  These were the faces of family.