Ashes, Ashes

Ring around the rosy.

Mama, why wasn’t I names Ashley, or Ashlynn. You said I rose from the ashes, right?

Pocket full of posies.

Mama sighed, her deep brown eyelashes fluttering, pushing back tears that were bound to flood her anyway.

Ashes, ashes,

“Why would you want to be named Ashes? They are so depressing."

They all fall down.

Mamá was convinced that she would never tell her child the truth.

Ring around the Rosie.

Mamá, years before, only a young girl then, running franticly, trying to bundle the twins close to her chest.

Pocket full of posies.

The lunatic chased her with a torch, the same torch she had beaten her with. Still on fire.

Ashes, ashes.

She tried to hide the dead child, tried to leave faster, tried to keep the remaining child alive.

They all fall down.

The waterfall saved the living, and washed away the dead, deterred the evil.

Ashes, ashes, they all fall down. Good night Eira, good night Ashes. Sleep well my daughters.