10-year old Lyllian Vega has no idea how she came to be in this place. Is it all in her head? The last two days have been a blur. First there was the strange man in the long grey coat with button up the front. His black umbrella dripping great glops of rain on his scuffed leather shoes. The car ride to the airport and the subsequent flight whizzed by her. She felt in and out of awareness. The man’s crinkled face wavers in and out of focus and his words filter through her psyche muffled and low. “It’ll be over before you know it my dear. Just you wait.” There is a drive under canopies of golden and red colored trees, glints of a wet sun blink in and out between the low hanging branches. A house on a hill. Black and empty looking. A woman in a brown homespun dress stands at the open door her eyes stern.

Lyllian is taken to a room on the first floor. The room is small and sparsely furnished. She finally finds he voice and asks where her mother is. The woman clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Sit down child”, she says. She has a strong deep voice with a thick accent that is not altogether unpleasant.

Lyllian finds herself seated on a wooden chair next to a rickety table. The table has a threadbare red tablecloth thrown over it and small green votive candles laid out in a semicircle. The man in the grey coat begins to light each candle and the flickering flames dance as shadows on the opposite wall. Lyllian is transfixed.

A low voice snakes through her consciousness. A name. “Trotsky.” Her body begins to tremble. “Lenin.” Her eyes begin to leak slow tears. “Cheka, Dzerzhinsky.”

Next Chapter: Lyllian October 2010