Shuff Shuff

Shuff shuff, click click.

Familiar sounds in a familiar place. But the image behind her eyes is not the one of her weaving loom or the final design of her tapestry. Instead, she sees a crowd of people full of questions, but without their armour, they are different people. They are strangers.

Life is easier that way.

Shuff shuff, click click.

The horse in the stable is her only reminder of what had happened, and she prefers to keep it that way. Animals can’t talk, whereas humans keep talking about her bravery, or stupidity. Some whisper earfuls of stories: truths clouded by lies, and lies clouded by imagination.

They always demand for answers, answers she doesn’t have.

“You’re very lucky.”

“Your parents kept calling for you long after you left.”

“You should have at least asked for a monetary prize.”

“You could have been caught.”

“You shouldn’t have gone.”

She has answers, answers she doesn’t want to give.

She didn’t go because of brave stupidity. She didn’t fight because she was trying to prove that women are no different than men.

She fought because she wants to show the world that she can run alongside anyone else, carrying the same purpose and scars without caring whether people noticed her or not.

But she lets her voice die with her fallen comrades, so everything about her is condensed into what others see – a woman with cloudy hair and a golden face, sitting beside her weaving loom.

Shuff shuff, click click.



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