The Darkest Sky

Merari crouched by her front door, the hem of her linen tunic scraping against the dirt. Baba was home early from the fields and quiet but urgent words were thrown back and forth between him and Mama. She strained to hear but their muted voices only conveyed fear.

“Does Mama know you are snooping instead of taking care of the cattle?” her brother smirked and bumped her with one foot, knocking Merari off balance. She crashed to the ground in an unladylike heap before hastily standing. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“The cattle are fine, Jabari. Safely bedded down for the evening with fresh hay and water. I have done my duty...now why aren’t you off doing yours?”

Jabari frowned. “The flax and barley were destroyed by the hail—”

“So?” Merari interrupted. “We still have the wheat and rye to grow and harvest.”

“Not anymore,” Jabari said with a shake of his head. “An east wind brought locusts this morning. They are spreading quickly. There is no reason for Baba and I to be out in the fields.”

Merari pressed her hand against her mouth. A faint hum filled the air. The locusts had found them. The sound of their chewing was a song that filled her with sorrow. Her parents stepped outside and gaped in shock.

“Why do the gods wish to starve us?” Mama cried as locusts crawled over their feet.

“Hurry inside!” Baba commanded. They ran and hid in the shelter of the four walls they called home. Mama had covered her ears to drown out the incessant gnawing. Merari placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder as the woman rocked back and forth in grief.

“Have we been cursed, Baba?” Merari whispered. Her thoughts raced as she wondered how they would feed the cattle they had adopted from Goshen, after theirs had died of disease, if the locusts ate all the green from the land.

Her father bit his lip, as if to hold back his words, but they spilled out despite his efforts. “There is talk,” he admitted. “Rumors that all our sorrows are caused by the return of the banished son of the Pharaoh, Moshe.”

“What does Moshe want, Baba?” Jabari asked.

“For the slaves to be released,” Baba said with a shrug.

Merari and Jabari laughed.

“The Pharoah would never allow the slaves to leave,” Merari scoffed. “What a ridiculous idea!”

“Still,” Baba said, raising a finger in warning. “Moshe carries strong magic that not even our magicians can replicate. I fear what may come after these locusts, should our Pharaoh continue to resist Moshe’s demands."

Merari spent the night listening to a symphony of her mother’s sobs and a horde of a million tiny mandibles chewing. By morning the locusts had eaten everything. They crawled over every surface, frantically searching for something edible until a sudden strong wind caught them. Merari’s skirt fought the rush of air and her hair whipped into her face as the locusts were picked up and carried away.

“They’re being blown toward the Red Sea,” Jabari shouted over the wind, a protective hand on her shoulder kept her from blowing away with the pests. As the wind died to a gentle breeze, Merari’s heart squeezed in anguish. Her world was a barren wasteland. Before she could say a word, the sun winked out.

“Jabari!” she cried, panicked. The abrupt darkness threw off her equilibrium and she fell to her knees. Blackness oozed around her body. Reaching out a trembling hand, she realized that the ink of night had a palpable feel. She shivered in fear.

“Stand up!” Jabari ordered, yanking her hair.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, I can’t see my own hand in front of my face much less yours,” Jabari grumbled. “We can’t stay out here, we need to get back to the house with Baba and Mama.”

“Of course,” Merari agreed. Standing on shaky legs, she allowed Jabari to turn her in what she hoped was the correct direction, and the two began to walk. She swallowed as they stumbled, blind, across the yard. The darkness was thick and hard to push through.

“Jabari...we should have reached the door by now, don’t you think?”

Her brother cursed and she was glad she was unable to see his face. As it was, she could imagine her big brother wasn’t afraid, like she was.

“Sit down, Merari,” Jabari’s voice was soft but exasperated. “It’s not safe to keep wandering and groping in this heavy gloom. We’ll wait it out. It has to end eventually.”

Merari sank to the ground and leaned against his strong frame, soaking in his warmth. The air was clammy and cold.

Time passed slowly. Merari thought she would go mad, trapped in the blackness. The way the darkness shifted and swirled suggested a tangible evil lurking, mocking them.

And then the sun returned with such ferocity that Merari had to shield her eyes.

“It’s over!” she gasped. And there was Baba, rushing across the field to catch them in his arms. Merari was surprised to see how far they had walked away from the safety of their dwelling.

“You’re safe!” Baba was crying. She had never seen her father cry before and the image scared her more than the darkness had.

News came later that the darkness had held them captive for three long days. All the land had been cursed...except for Goshen, where the slaves lived. Merari found the whole thing perplexing. Why had they suffered and the slaves had not? Was Moshe more powerful than the gods?

“They say Moshe’s God has one last punishment, unless the Pharaoh relents.” Baba reported after hearing the rumors that trickled through the people.

Merari was afraid to ask. She raised an eyebrow, silently urging him to speak, and squeezed Mama’s hand.

“Death to all firstborn.” His words pierced her heart. Jabari’s face paled and Mama began to wail.

“A different darkness is coming,” Merari whispered, knowing there was no way they would escape it.






Let My People Go! ▼

1000 words
Written for: "The Writer's Cramp" 
Prompt: Title your story "The Darkest Sky"/mystery genre
Inspired by the story of Moses and the 10 Plagues in Egypt, the book of Exodus
Winner at the Cramp!