starsmisalign (starsmisalign) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-07-18 15:05:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | celeste henry |
Making Tracks
Who: Celeste Henry
What: Childhood Memory
Where: Moab, Utah
When: Past
Ratings/Warnings: PG
When Celeste was a little girl, her parents took her to see the dinosaur tracks at Copper Ridge. She had never seen anything so pretty. Everything was red and awash with light, the sun bounced everywhere. The air was hot, and she wanted to lie on a rock like a lizard and feel that dry, dusty heat fill her skin. Maybe then that buzzy, nervous feeling would leave her.
And then she saw it. A big, three-pronged track that looked like it could fit her whole body. Like a giant bird had landed there and bobbed along with the beautiful stone. Celeste kneeled, splayed her hand against the indentation in an attempt to make it match a claw. She looked up at her father, squinting against the sun’s glare.
“Imagine hunting this, papa. We’d eat for a year!”
He kneeled beside her. “I wanted to show you this for a reason. To teach you.” He pointed up at the sky. “God made us tend to his garden, for as long as he saw fit. He didn’t make giant monsters that roamed around and just magically disappeared.”
Celeste’s brow furrowed, confused. “Then how did this get here?”
Her mother spoke up, her voice bird-like and nervous. “Remember when we repaved the flagstones, and you and Bobby left your handprints in the cement? Once it dried, it stayed forever.”
The little girl nodded slowly.
“Well, some people did the same thing here, but as a trick. To fool people,” her father continued, standing straight and tall. Celeste mimicked him, listening intently.
A family nearby shot them an inscrutable look and moved away. They pulled a blonde girl about Celeste’s age behind them, she was carrying a doll. A little bubble of jealousy popped up in Celeste’s stomach; they weren’t allowed toys at home.
“Why did they wanna trick us?”
“Because they think they’re more clever than God. Fill our heads with fantasy. Until we start to doubt him and turn away from him. And so many people have.” He shook his head bitterly.
Her mother put a bony hand on Celeste’s head. “That’s how we know the end is coming. As more people turn away from his light...,” she inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. “This world won’t stand a chance. And we’ll be on the front lines.”
Celeste bit her lip, squirmed away from her mother’s touch. It never felt comforting. “Even me?”
“Especially you.”
As they walked back to their station wagon, an object on the ground caught Celeste’s eye. It was the doll. She looked up, spotted the blonde-haired girl sleeping in her father’s arms. “Must have dropped it,” she whispered to herself. She picked up the toy, ran her small fingers through the synthetic hair. Smiled.
Before her parents or the other family could see, Celeste tossed it in a trash can filled with food remnants and buzzing flies.