Previously:  She was born at the end of July, when the sun was high and burning the clouds, and yellow was last thing her mother saw, as she took her leave of this world and its people.

Click here to learn more about The Chronicle of Evana.

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“Life Is Anything But Fair” Credits and Copyrights: Michael Färber

 

—–

It’s Monday and Mrs Anderson is banging on Evana’s bedroom door. Her voice is similar to a cold, reptilian hiss as she ordered the girl to get up and get going. It’s Monday. A school-day.

Mrs Anderson owns a depth to Evana’s dead mama, Olivia. It’s a well-known fact in their small, isolated town and nobody will let Mrs Anderson forget it, because everyone used to adore Olivia.  Beautiful, strong and sweet Livvie, always smiling, always dancing, seemingly bigger than life until she was destroyed by her red-haired daughter, screaming and murdering her way into this world.

The people hate Mrs Anderson almost as much as they hate this little girl, so forcing the stern and cruel woman into fostering Evana is a punishment for them both.

But only Mrs Anderson deserves it.

Evana glanced at the black curtains heavily hanging out in front of her windows. Her windows are always shut. The curtains are always black. “You must not be seen” Mrs Anderson would say, her voice somehow both cajoling and threatening.

“You are offending people with your presence.”

“Your hair are so red, it hurt my eyes. Too red. Like blood.”

“You killed your mama.”

Evana knows. She heard it all, a thousand times. She knows why, how and when. She knows people hate her. She just can’t find it in herself to hate them back.

Sometimes, after school, in the privacy of her cold bedroom, between her paper-thin sheets, she dreams of twirling around, and round and round, fast, fast, so fast and then faster and her hair would turn into beautiful wings, firmly anchored to each side of her head, like a stag or a creature equally majestic. Then she would be twirling so fast that she would become a blur, no one would be able to properly see her body and her face anymore, but she would not disappear. No, she would not vanish.

She would soar up the sky and fly.

At school Evana is always singled out. She stands out despite her small height. Her hair are strikingly different from her peers, it’s like a flame stubbornly sizzling in the middle of a gray land of snow.

At school, things are hard but not unbearable. Children are cruel but not vicious. Adults are cold but not contemptuous. It’s a quiet thing, their hatred, similar to a light fog on a day in Autumn. There is no acidic rain to it. Just the feeling of being lost.

Evana is called many thing by children and adults alike. The red-haired demon. The blood-thirsty imp. Olivia’s bane. The daughter of Strife.

She never replies because she doesn’t know what to say.  She doesn’t think herself evil. Tucked in the crack in the wall of her bedroom, she keeps a secret picture of her mama in a small plastic box. She likes to look at it despite the way her stomach hurts when she does. She loves her mama.

Still, after a long day of slurs and hateful looks gnawing at her soul, Evana likes to walk back from school in the rain. She tries to feel clean inside and the rain always felt like God’s tears.

To be continued in part 3…

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.


Read Part one in the Daily Shatzi here: “She was born at the end of July, when the sun was high and burning the clouds”

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Written by fantac.cisse

I'm a web journalist, a blogger, a vidder, an editor and a silver tongue dipped in English and French... and dreams. I'm a woman. I'm a cultureholic, I'm weird and strangely hopeful in life. ↓ Subjects on this blog: Worldwide culture • Socials awareness • Socials awesomeness • Politics • Literature • Geek Culture • Harry Potter Fan • All mythologies fan • Philosophy • Music • Cinema • TV Shows • Food • Deep thoughts on Life that aren't that deep •

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