Beneath the White Plastic Cows
"Until my child is back in my arms,
none of you shall fly again,
nor your children,
nor your children's children."
Her face was lit by the glow of the hearth fire, that made her eyes shine orange and the tears on her cheeks glisten. She reached her arms into the air, her hair surrounding her head in a black halo, curls springing up like horns. In one hand she was holding a bundle of feathers. A nervous whisper spread through the group of women who had gathered around her. She raised her hand high over the hearth and started throwing the feathers into the flames, one by one, while her sisters watched in horror, unable to stop her. The white, long feather of a swan turned to charcoal in the fire, followed by the black feather of a raven, sizzling, one that was shining in hues of blue, of a magpie, filling the room with smoke, a reddish brown one of a robin that twisted and turned in the fire and finally she held a last one in her trembling hands.
