A tangible darkness unfurls itself upon the surface of the land, its tendrils flailing about in the madness. No longer exists warmth or light for the sun and stars have been devoured by the very darkness, the first adversary. The winds howl and all else that is heard is the voice that cries out for succor, soon to be silenced by the offspring of the first enemy. The adversary Decay has come to gnaw, to feast on the bodies that Death has left behind in its wake. 

The vision of these dreaded enemies continue in the soft mind of a shaken girl. She is skimming over a letter given her, one already deformed by creases and the touch of perspiration. She is an avid reader and could gloss over a body of text rather quickly without losing sight of the meaning of the words but now her thinking is impaired. She is going over the letter again and again yet the meaning of it seems to elude her. Her thinking is absorbed in the dreaded pictures her mind violently hurls at her.

What brought about this terrible inspiration that took captive her soul? It was the reading of the words "Harbingers of peace, the wonderful instruments of the rifle, pistol, and sword." It is this single sentence that her eyes are now glued to.

"The agents which herald these great adversaries," she repeats to herself in slow tones, "are those which we know of as 'harbingers of peace'. They are the rifle, the pistol and the sword." 

 A hand falls on her shoulder, bringing out a sudden gasp from her drooping lips. In the burst of excitement the letter which was before littered with minute creases becomes totally crumpled as she crushes it against her chest. 

  "What's wrong?" she's asked by the welcome voice of her mother.

Her heart is still leaping in her bosom as she forces a smile, quickly hiding the letter behind her back. "Nothing mom, I was just thinking about the old stories the bald man next door used to tell his wife."

 "Bah! Jiho, that man I tell you, something was a bit loopy with him, but let's just thank the Motherland that he now lives in the Promise and not next to us anymore." 

 She could only stand still with an awkward smile as her mother continued her way back into the kitchen, laughing with every step. Beyond the window by which she stands the sun has begun to set. The shadows about her grow tall and the memory of that foregone day she decided to eavesdrop on her neighbors creeps up again. 

Darkness soon swallows the living room as she squints at the same phrase that had tossed her into the earlier panic. 

 "They were just stories he said to frighten people," she tells herself, half believing her own mouth. "No way it could be true."

Sat down across the table from her gray-haired mother, she stared wide-eyed at the knife resting atop the napkin. Its silver sheen entranced her. 

 "This is like a small sword," she mumbled, "I remember. The neighbor said it was of metal and..."

 "Jiho," the mother spoke as her hands pounded the table several times. Her daughter's attention seemed to be the only thing absent from their supper.

Her head snapped up as the letter inside her pocket was crushed. "Yes, mom?"

 "I saw the mail today. Your occupation was finally chosen today, right?"

 "Yes," Jiho said while swallowing her spit.

 "And will you not tell your beloved mother what our great Motherland has chosen?"

 Jiho hesitated at this point, her slender hand instinctively moving to retrieve the crumpled letter. 

 "Well? Yente does not have all night. Tell your mom what was chosen," her mother insisted with an eager voice.

Jiho coughed and quickly snatched up the glass of water that had until then sat untouched. After gulping the whole glass she shared the news, "I've been selected as a soldier, a  Peace-Walker meant to extend the reach of the Motherland."

 "Oh! What great news!" Yente replied with an emphatic clap of her hands. "I'll miss you sorely but you'll do our Motherland a great and proud job! When do you leave?"

 "I ship out next week, but... But mom," she paused, "I don't think this occupation is right for me."

 "Oh what nonsense! No need to be so humble. You know," her mom rambled on and continued to repeat the same old account about how she served as instructor for years before birthing Jiho. She would've continued for a while longer but her sight finally laid hold of Jiho's empty look.

At this she withdrew from her side of the table and left to place her daughter's head on her sagging s. She hugged her and caressed the tender cheeks that were her greatest joy. Their eyes met and she knew all too well that Jiho was fraught with some sort of fear and anxiety. 

 "Your eyes are glistening, Jiho. I know this new journey is daunting, that the road is filled with high hills and countless obstacles, but-" Her bony hands reached for Jiho's and clasped them as she assured her of the promise she had known since childhood, "The Motherland will never let you stumble headlong and if you fall-"

Their voices spoke as one, reciting words that were more mantra than anything else, "The Motherland will make you rise like the sun."

 Jiho felt a tad bit more confident now, but still, so strong is the pull of childhood trauma that she quickly lost hold of courage.

 "I don't think I can do it, mom." 

 "Nonsense. If the Motherland says you can, then it means you're more than able to do it."

 "I can't mom!" Jiho pulled herself away and continued, "I know I can't."

 "Why?" Yente questioned as her arms folded over each other.

 "Because I'm afraid," Jiho quietly responded.

 "Aww," the mother crooned, "Taller than me yet you are still the same child that would cower behind my leg at the Supply House." 

As Yente sought again her daughter's cheeks, she halted once Jiho spoke.

 "The stories Mr... I forget his name but he told these stories, remember? About Death and Decay." Her eyes fastened onto her mother's, and for a moment she was transfixed by the horror the terms produced. "The instruments of a soldier are the very things which he said would beckon these two monsters Come."

While Jiho may have hoped for a different answer, she received what she should have expected: a scoff.

 Rolling her eyes, Yente proceeded to mock the stories Jiho spoke of. When many years ago Jiho first shared what she eavesdropped on they may indeed have instilled some manner of fear but eventually she came to see them as nonsense. Even then, so great is her love for her daughter that she thought ahead and reported her neighbor, knowing the little one might be tempted to listen in on him again as scary stories are always tantalizing. He was soon admitted to the Promise and her concerns for her daughter were allayed. Who would know she still clung onto infantile fears?

 "Mother, but if they're true? I don't think I can face those two things, Death and Decay."

 Yente sighed. "Even if they are Jiho- they are nothing before the overwhelming love and grace of the Motherland. No need to be afraid."

 Jiho groaned. Her hand caught the overhanging fold of the white lacy tablecloth and crushed it as she considered to say what might only upset her mother.

 "I want to request a change- I want to have another occupation selected for me."

 Time froze in that instant, the slender girl wondering if she did the right thing. Her mother's reaction made her doubt such.

 "Request a change? Sure it's been done before, but you're not that type of person. I raised you and I know what manner of child I raised. You would never doubt the Motherland." Her voice had raised in small increments and now the frustration was visibly obvious as she scratched her silver head like a flea-ridden dog. "The Motherland is as much your parent as I- and you doubt the Motherland? It was the Motherland that chose such beautiful name as yours for you! The audacity! No! It cannot be. It cannot be."

 Jiho, biting her lip and bowing her head in guilt, decided to stand up and hug her mother if only to cut short the mental anguish she was suffering.

 "No!" Yente exclaimed as she repelled the approaching arms. "You have brought shame on my hoary head. Think a simple act like this will mend that injury which you caused?"

 "I'm sorry," Jiho replied with a strained voice, more whisper than apology. 

 "You are sorry? Well," Yente continued as she gazed at Jiho through the corners of her small, hazel eyes, "That means you have finally recapacitated?"

 A subtle sway of her head was all that was needed for an answer.

 "What is this?" she scoffed. "You believe more these silly tales than you do the greatness of the Motherland? No!"

 "I'm sorry mama," Jiho spoke as she clutched the sides of her long pink skirt.

 "That dress which you wrinkle- and who provided it?"

 "The Motherland," Jiho answered with a sniffle, hiding her face in the shadow of her tresses.

 "Then repay the love which has showered you with all blessings and serve, honey."

 The voice of comfort sounded so persuasive in that instance that Jiho, for a moment, considered changing her mind. Then her great imagination worked against her again, leaving her gripped by fear.

 "I can't. I'm sorry, mama."

Yente grumbled and shut herself off from any form of appeal as she chided her sobbing daughter. Unable to bear it any longer, Jiho fled the torment and ran up to her room, flinging the bolt on her door. The balance of the hour she laid whimpering on her bed with her pillow helping to muffle outbursts of sobs on occasion. 

About the time her crying stopped she swore she heard the faint sound of footsteps by her door. Quietly getting up, she tiptoed her way across the small room and gently placed her ear on the wall. The walls were quite thick so she doubted she would hear anything but instinct told her to persist. She lingered there awhile, yet the sound of footsteps failed to repeat. In its place she found another curiosity.

 A note was slipped under the gap of her door. Its presence was conspicuous and she knew very well who had snuck it in. Cracking open her door a notch to peek out her head, she looked down the dimly lit corridor in both directions, eyeing the room at the end closest to the staircase, her mother's room. There was no one there, prompting a sigh of relief.

After locking her door once more, she leaned against it and unfolded the note. Regret began to seep in as she read its contents.

 "I left dinner for you on the table, dinner which the Motherland provided. And until you quit your childish acts, do not speak a word to me. Do not even stare at me."

 Jiho moaned as she crumpled up the note and delicately banged her head on the wall. She knew her mom meant every word written. There was no way to go about winning her cause now. It was either be a soldier as she wanted or request an occupation change and lose her mother. 

Her steps were heavy as she walked over to her vanity. Her reflection was cast upon the surface of the silvered glass. Here was her only source of counsel.

 "What should I do? Think Jiho, think!"

 Thus ensued a back and forth conversation between herself and her reflection, resulting in only deeper turmoil. No matter what avenue she sought, there was no way around it. The only solution that existed was to become a soldier, a Peace-Walker. She could not bear to endure the punishment her mother dealt.

At once the grim visage of Death and Decay glared at her. She rushed to her bookshelf and rummaged through a many great deal of books hoping that in some story she might find a way to dispel the curse of fear.

 "The Motherland can, and only the Motherland can bring peace- if we simply trust." she said under her breath as she tossed a book on the hardwood floor. Bent down to pick up another book she questioned, "Is it me that's the problem? Is my faith in the Motherland small?"

Wrapped up in reading, the accustomed blast of the siren outside startled her. It was now time to sleep, 10 o'clock, but she refused to yield to the imposed curfew. The thick curtains were enough to conceal everything that occurred within her sanctum, yet to fend off any residual fear of getting caught by the cameras, she turned off the main lights and switched on her small lamp.

The night passed for her without so much as a wink of sleep. By the time she decided to pull open the curtains and allow cool air to circulate, a streak of blinding sunlight struck her face through a gap in the curtains. She had re-read over a dozen books through the course of the night, a whole mess of them now strewn across the wooden floor. The mirror afforded a clear look into the depth of her soul.

 "I look miserable."

 Her stomach began to grumble. "Of course. I ate only a small piece of a carrot."

Without changing her clothes or even tidying up her hair she bolted out her door, through the hallway and down the flight of stairs. As she turned to head inside the kitchen her quick gait abruptly ceased- her mother stood at the far end washing the plates of last night's meal. With how boisterous her running was she knew her mother was well aware of her presence. Not once did she turn to say "Good Morning" or smile at her.

 The air was cold between them though summer was presently passing by. Jiho was stuck in a standstill, incapable of even offering a small "Hello". She just stood there by the side of the doorjamb, quietly with distended eyes. Several minutes passed until her mother at last closed the faucet and turned, drying her hands on her apron. 

Then she headed in Jiho's direction. Standing idly with lips parted to offer some sort of apology, she watched as her mother passed her by without even a glimpse. Then the short and pasty-skinned figure undid the knot behind her back and took off her apron, hanging it on the rack near the front entrance. 

"Mama!"

 The wooden door swung out and with it, Yente. 

 "Ma-" Jiho began, her words cut short by the slamming of the door. 

Following a relapse into self pity and guilt, she nosed around the kitchen in search of food. At the fridge door a note was attached. Halfway through reading it a faint smile slowly stretched across her winsome face.

 "Do not speak to me unless you repent. There is food for you inside. Foolish girl, at least eat."

As the day trudged onwards Jiho began to question her fears. She had taken out the letter and flattened it by placing it between heavy books, somewhat restoring its former integrity. Her eyes must've worn down years' worth as she focused on the one sentence that shook her peace. Her resolve would mightily build up only to collapse inwards. The superficial foundation of her strength, the vain repetition of words of encouragement, "I can do it. The Motherland gives me strength!" were no match for the very real fear of Death and Decay.

 "If these are just bad monsters like the ones in my stories- Why I can't I overcome this?"

Riveted by the noise of a car parking outside, Jiho dropped her current focus and shifted her attention to the opened window. Shadows gradually engulfed the driveway as the lampposts flickered on, the sun setting in the horizon. A small figure popped out of the parked car with a stack of boxes in her arms.

 "It's mom. I should help her with the supplies."

At the threshold, just as one foot exited the room, Jiho stopped. 

 "We're- there is a rift between us now."

 The dread of possibly being rejected by her mother once more seized her. Yente was a strong woman who commanded reverence and Jiho fairly worshipped her since the moment intelligence entered that tender mind of hers. The idea of personal rejection, the attitude of "I don't know you." her mother seemed capable of continuing pierced her heart. At the same time a dash of hope, the memory of the food left for her earlier in the fridge, prompted her to descend the stairs, even if by stealth.

Yente, as old as she was with arms like twigs had brought in several boxes of produce into the kitchen without aid whatsoever. There she stretched her back and mumbled something almost inaudible to herself, of which Jiho managed to make out the word, "Promise."

 It was by the entrance of that room so precious to her, so filled with nostalgia and warmth, that she hid. With utmost scrutiny she observed her mother, a watchful eye over every sigh, every rub of her wrists, every minute movement. Admiration mixed together with yearning and concern in the maiden heart. Soon enough Jiho faced temptation, the urge to quit her notion of changing her future career and making amends with the elder some feet ahead.

opened yet altogether clamped shut. A strange tube had her mother snuck out of her pocket. This she twisted open and from it popped out a small white disk. It was an object alien to Jiho's sight yet one of vague familiarity...