Sara's Shadows

Prologue

In a time of unrest, a light comes forth from the shadows.

    My name is Lady Sara, formerly Sara Kenner, and this story belongs to many people; not just myself. This story belongs to a group of people called the Shadows. My first contact with the Shadows was when they took me from my home.

    Memories of important events seem to be remembered in one of two ways, long and drawn out or in odd bits and pieces that are all jumbled together. My memory of that day is of the latter style.

   

    I remember helping my mother make lunch for my father who was coming home from work early. He was bringing his co-worker and friend, Keith, home with him. I remember that Keith hadn’t been by for a couple weeks so this was a pleasant surprise. My mother, my eleven-year-old brother, Dany, and I were all happy to see Keith. We hadn’t known him for more then eight months but he had an open and sincere manner about him which we all liked, my brother especially.

    I remember the five of us sitting around the table eating sandwiches and drinking fruit juice. I questioned Keith about what he was doing at work and why he hadn’t been by in so long. I remember Keith having to go outside for something he left in the vehicle. I went to the window and saw a group of people wearing long black coats, wide opaque sun visors, and caps moving toward our home but no sign of Keith. I called to my father and he came to the window. Then my brother and I were running down the stairs into the cellar.

    I remember hearing my father run to the bedroom closet, then loud thumps and crashes as the people outside broke down our front and back doors. My brother and I ran to opposite sides of the cellar to hide.

    I remember hiding behind an old, lime green dresser. There was some shouting upstairs, then my father yelling for them to leave his family alone. I remember hearing a single shot then another. I heard a thump and then my father roar, a scuffle of feet and then several more shots. I remember when the shooting stopped and then another single thump which seemed to echo in my mind.

    I remember hearing someone come down the stairs into the cellar. I could see the man’s thick black boots from where I hid. I watched as he came closer to my hiding place. I remember being pulled out from behind the dresser and yelping. Then he grunted and I was pushed to the near wall.

    I remember turning and seeing Dany on the man’s back, grabbing at his face. I watched as the man pulled Dany off his back with one hand and slamming him to the wall near me. I remember hearing my brother gasp and looking into his eyes rolling up into his head as he slumped to the floor.

    I remember the man grabbing my arm and thrusting his bloody knife towards my face. He said something. I remember struggling to get away. Then I blacked out.

    I was born and raised on the outside, but I became who I am on the inside. My mother and father were good people but brought me up without much knowledge of the world around me and as I found out, the beliefs I did have were not entirely true. Some of these “truths” were erased rather quickly after I was taken, others remained for years. The trouble with the “truth” is that once you have uncovered it, you can never put it back.