The Growing of Hopes Flowers 

Katie H. 
 
2019-2020 
 
 
   
 The day started just like any other. The ground was soft from the rain shower last 
night, though it wasn’t muddy. As Araceli walked, her bare feet felt the cold, soft ground, 
covered in the hay straws from this season's harvest. She could smell the lingering scent 
of raindrops floating in the air and the stinging scent of pigs coming from the pastures. 
Araceli saw the sun peaking over the mountain tops and the sky welcoming it with rays 
of pinks and oranges. The village had already been awake for some time. The farmers 
and gardeners had already begun their daily routines, as content as ever. The village 
had a very welcoming sense to it. Still, Araceli felt like there was an underlying feeling as 
well, and it wasn’t a good one. 
 
As Araceli walked from her family’s hut to the village center and the well, she 
looked around, admiring her only home. The well marked the absolute center of the 
village. From around this well, the village shot out in several paths, all leading in 
different directions. Araceli circled the well, peering down the paths, patiently waiting for 
Aba.  
 
Aba was Araceli’s one and only. He was the one who had rescued Araceliafter 
being orphaned in a raid. He was the first one to show any genuine interest in her. 
Araceli was pretty, but she was no match for Milagros, the gem of the South. Milagros 
was born too early and still turned out to be the most prepossessing girl ever in the 
village. Her hair was jet black, down to her ankles and she always wore it down, with her 
bangs braided into a crown. Her eyes were a light blue, almost grey, and she was tall 
and thin. Milagros always wore a long gemsbok hide dress and a plethora of jewelry, 
ranging from piercings to necklaces to rings. Araceli, on the other hand, was nothing to 
compare to. Her hair was dark brown and just down to her waist. Her eyes were brown, 
almost the color of the earth. She wore a deer hide bra and skirt that slowly went from 
her knee to her ankle across her legs. She wore no jewelry, except for the rabbit bone and 
turquoise necklace her mom used to wear. Araceli was the average size for a 19-year-old 
in her village and was fairly skinny. Aba saw none of this. He loved Araceli for who she 
was, not what she looked like. 
 
As Araceli peered down the paths for Aba, she felt a presence behind her. She 
quickly spun around, hitting Aba in the face with her hair. He chuckled at the sight of 
her alarmed expression. Araceli was scarlet red, but laughing too. They looked each 
other in the eye and stood up. Aba leaned in and kissed Araceli passionately on the lips, 
as was his usual morning routine. Araceli loved it every time. His lips were soft on hers, 
softer than the sheep wool that made her blanket. These kisses filled her with pleasure 
and contentment. She loved him even more each time he kissed her like this. Aba was 
the first to release. Araceli opened her eyes and gazed at Aba. He was a god, standing 
next to her puny, mortal self. His eyes were a deep, ocean blue and his hair was short 
and black. His skin was aged from years of working in the sun and he only wore a cloth 
hanging around his waist to his knees. His soft, passionate lips were smiling. 
 
 "Good morning, my love," greeted Aba. 
 
"Morning," replied Araceli. She pushed a piece of her bangs behind her ear. 
 
"I have to harvest the cabbages. Do you want to come to keep me company?" 
 
"What else do I have to do?” 
 
Aba knew what he was doing. He could feel the weight of the stone ring tied under 
his skirt. Having been taught by his father for years, Aba had carved it himself. Asking 
for Araceli's hand meant that they could live out the rest of their days together, happy. 
 
As they both walked down the path towards Aba's hut, Araceli realized something was 
missing. 
 
"Wait. I forgot my necklace! I left it in my hut. Can I go get it?" 
 
"I’ll come with." replied Aba 
 
The two of them raced each other back to Araceli's house, laughing and smiling 
the entire way. Once Araceli had her necklace, they walked back, hand in hand, towards 
Aba’s house. Just as they were getting back to the well, they heard a loud scream. It was 
blood-curdling. The sound of a mother having lost a child was never a good sound to 
hear, but it occasionally happened. Many young children drowned in the river that 
flowed to one side of the village, having wandered too close to the water's edge 
unsupervised. Most of these screams came from the child's body being dragged from the 
rapids, or never being seen again. This scream... This scream was different. It was filled 
with heart-wrenching fear and had been belted at the witnessing of the child’s death. The 
next moment was in slow motion. A young man from a nearby hut rushed out to find the 
origin of the scream. He froze in the middle of the path, stunned. He turned towards the 
center. Chills ran down Araceli's spine, and Aba's hand stiffened. He belted at the top of 
his lungs his dying word, before being pierced with a spear from behind. 
 
"RAID!..."  
 
Araceli’s feet froze to the ground. She tried to run, but her body wasn’t responding. 
It was Aba who made the first move. Araceli saw the farmers scrambling to their huts for 
their tools and weapons to aid the only weapon trained people in the village, the 
“guards”. The guards were running, full sprint, down the path where the man had just 
died. Aba pulled Araceli into the closest hut. As she was running to the hut, Araceli 
looked down the path that the alarm had come from. What she saw astounded her. 
There were only three men. Usually, a raid consisted of an entire “guard army” or even 
an entire village. The leader of this raid could have been an entire army unto himself.  
 
He was tall and very chiseled, almost as if carved into a perfect warrior. Araceli 
could make out his pecs and biceps from the well. He had dark skin and black, ear length 
hair, tied up so as to not block his view. He didn't wear a skirt like Aba but was fully 
clothed, in a hide shirt and pants, but no armour. Araceli saw her tribe mates laying 
dead at his feet. Too many of her laying dead at his feet. Her village’s entire guard was 
dead, mutilated in some form and fashion. She saw the young kid for which the original 
scream had been for. He wasn't killed the same way as the guards were. His neck was 
snapped. Quick. Painless. Merciful. The mother was also dead. Speared. Not quite so 
merciful.  
 
There were two men standing next to the larger man. They were noticeably 
smaller, yet almost as strong. It seemed as if they trusted the larger man with their lives, 
as they wore nothing except for a hide cloth around their waist, similar to Aba. 
 
At this point, Araceli and Aba had gotten to the safety of the hut. The hut had two 
doors. One towards where the three raiders were, and one in the opposite direction. 
Araceli was terrified. Last time this happened, she was young and had survived by 
jumping in a hay bale. Her parents weren't quite so lucky. Aba speared through her mind 
at the memory of him saving her. She looked at him. He had fear in his eyes, but not for 
him.  
 
"Araceli, I love you, in this world and the next," said Aba. 
 
"Aba... What are you doing?!" questioned Araceli. She lunged for Aba’s arm to hold 
him in, but he was already out the door, out of her reach, and out of time. 
 
He was running towards the raiders. Araceli wanted to shout for him. Tell him to 
come back. Tell him to stay with her forever. She didn't. She knew that crying out would 
attract attention to her and her temporary sanctuary, and Aba wouldn't want that. She 
resigned watching in silence, unsure of the next few minutes.  
 
Aba raced down the path. Araceli watched as he picked up a spear from one of the 
many dead guards. She was surprised, as Aba once never one for death. He was doing 
this purely for her and her safety. The large man had not noticed Aba yet. 
 
After the dead guard, Aba raced to one of the three raiders. He threw his spear, 
untrained yet perfectly, piercing through the heart of the raider. The man was dead 
before he hit the ground. This, the leader noticed. He screamed in rage and grabbed the 
spear off his back. Meanwhile, Aba ran towards the second smaller raider. Just as Aba 
was reaching the raider, Araceli's world slowed again. 
 
 Araceli saw Aba running, spear in hand, aimed at the raider. Unnoticed by Aba, 
the large man raised his spear above his head. Anger ripping the veins in his head and 
arms. His muscles clenched with the strength to throw the spear with all his might. 
Araceli saw it too late. The spear left the hands of the large raider. It cut right in front of 
Aba, seeming to just miss his head as he was running. Araceli saw Aba's once running, 
adrenaline-pumping body suddenly stop. His body was thrown forward, legs stopped, 
hands rose to his neck. Araceli saw the blood spurt against the hut next to Aba. Her mind 
froze. It seemed too unreal. She screamed out in anguish, as it was the only reaction her 
mind could muster. She clasped her hands over her mouth as the murderer heard her 
scream. 
 
It felt too unreal. Like a bad nightmare she was about to wake up from. She knew 
it couldn’t be true. She hoped it wasn't true, but Araceli couldn't help it. Aba was dead. His 
body now lay among many others. His eyes now a greyed out version of the blue she 
had loved only moments ago. His body the same she loved, and his lips. The same she 
kissed so passionately just a short time before. Oh, how she wished she could go back to 
that moment.  
 
She slumped on the ground. Knees to her chest, hands to her face. The tears 
outran the neighboring river. She couldn’t make sense of anything. Everything else in 
the village ceased to exist, except for her, Aba's body, and the larger raider standing 
above him.  
 
Araceli looked up and saw the raider grab something from the edge of Aba's skirt. 
A ring. A hand crafted bone ring.The grief struck Araceli again, even harder. Her chest 
tightened up and she cried even more. The only man who would ever ask for her hand 
was dead before he had the chance.  
 
"Who is his lover?" bellowed the large raider towards the still living villagers. His 
voice was deep and full of rage. 
 
Araceli saw the anger still lingering on his face. Aba had killed this man's friend. 
In the raider’s mind, Aba’s lover would be just as guilty. She knew that showing her 
emotion about Aba's death would get her killed. Araceli created a wall in her mind. She 
blocked off all emotion, seeming as if she showed no sadness or anger at all. She cleaned 
the dirt from the floor off of her skirt. She brushed out her hair with her fingers. Araceli 
felt her red, puffy eyes lessen, and become the eyes that had once been loved, but now 
will never show love again. With her thoughts seemingly in line, Araceli walked slowly 
and calmly out of the hut. 
 
The large man and the other raider had stopped killing in the few seconds after 
Aba had died. Since no one came forward as his lover, the big man guessed it was a 
family heirloom or that his lover was already among those at his feet. He stood proud in 
front of the pile of corpses and identified himself as Qurio, conqueror of the sick and man 
to all ladies. Araceli paid no attention, slowly walking out of the safety of the hut and 
into this new world she never would have imagined. 
 
She walked towards the well, trying not to pay attention to the body of her lover 
or the memories bubbling up like lava in the back of her throat. She carefully pulled the 
bucket up from the bottom, trying to steady her hands in the process. As she emptied the 
bucket into a clay bowl, she felt a presence behind her for the second time today. For a 
split second, she almost smiled. Almost. She turned slowly this time. Behind her was no 
one like Aba. It was Qurio.  
 
Araceli was staring at Qurio's chest. His eyes were a deep green, almost almost as 
if layered with envy and greed. His face was round, and his lips split apart for a smile. 
She would have blushed, had the meeting been under different circumstances, but this 
man killed Aba. She would not show any kindness to him. 
 
"Why aren't you a pretty thing," said Qurio. Araceli could hear something wrong 
in his expression. Something frightening and almost forceful. 
 
"Thank you." She couldn't help glancing at Aba over Qurio's shoulder. She had 
hoped he had stood up and was on his way to rescue her. Qurio followed her gaze and 
laid his filthy eyes upon Aba’s pure body. 
 
"Were you close to him?". He was digging at something 
 
Araceli knew she couldn't tell the truth. She had to come up with a lie, and fast. 
She saw the ring, still lying next to Aba. She told herself sorry and told a lie that saved 
her life. 
 
"Yes. But not under good circumstances. He killed my brother several years ago." 
It felt filthy, like dirt in her mouth, but it was necessary. 
 
"Ah. Well, my condolences. I’m glad that murdering bastard finally got his justice. 
He might have been after you."  
 
Qurio pulled in closer. Araceli was trapped between him and the well. Her arms 
pulled close to her sides out of uncomfort. She felt this conversation taking a very 
strange turn. She looked around for help. There was almost no one. Only a few were left 
standing. All girls, including Milagros. They all stood against one of the huts, in one 
giant clump.