Author Information
Blood Oath
Written by Patricia Garza
“He loves me, he loves me not,” the girl murmurs wistfully, her dismal voice clandestine beneath the sigh of the wind. A pile of cherry-red petals lies strewn beside her body. Leisurely, she twirls the bare flower stem between her scarred thumb and forefinger, gazing at it longingly before finally allowing it to slip out of her grasp; then, with a soft groan, she closes her eyes and lies down on the green grass, falling asleep.
When she awakes, the clear, blue sky dotted with puffy, white clouds is nowhere to be seen. Even the sun seems to have gone into hiding; the deep violet night sky, framed by speckled stars and a placid, overlooking moon, now replaces it.
“That’s Taurus,” he pointedly indicated the twinkling constellation looming before their eyes the night before.
Subconsciously, she raises her thumb to her eyes, inspecting its scar by the colorless glow of the moon.
“How do you know?” the girl inquired with fascination.
“My father used to say that the stars would guide me through the darkness if I ever lost my way,” he told her, modestly casting her a half-grin. Her heart pounded and her cheeks were tinged with pink.
She flushes again.
Her face then became serious as she told him in a low voice, “Hey, there’s something I need to tell you.”
She paused; he leaned closer.
“I’m leaving,” she whispered. Her voice cracked. “My father is taking me to Boston; he says my aunt will teach me some manners.”
The boy’s face hardened and his eyes turned cold. “It’s because I don’t have any money, isn’t it? That’s why he’s sending you away — he doesn’t want you near my family. Near me, I’m sending you away.” She reached to comfort him, but he pulled away. His nostrils were flared, eyes scorching with anger.
“He has good intentions. Really. It’s okay — we’ll see each other again, I promise. I —” she stopped, alarmed and short of breath, as the boy pulled out a pocketknife.
He anxiously looked into her eyes. “Do you trust me?”
“More than anything in the world,” she whispered to him.
He then took her hand in his and delicately pressed the blade against her thumb. She gasped; a scarlet rosebud blossomed seconds later, blood leaking out in a teasing dance on her fingertip. In a daze, she confoundedly searched his apologetic face, her gaze meeting his remorseful eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, astonished at the blood he had drawn.
She remained speechless, gaping at him. And in the blink of an eye — before she could even protest — he promptly slit his own finger. She looked away.
“There,” he breathed when it had ended.
“What have you done?” The girl exasperatedly managed to exclaim.
“I thought you trusted me.” He weakly gave a lighthearted smile.
“Well, I do, but —” she had fumbled, searching for words.
“But?” he teased.
“But I didn’t know you were about to pull a knife out on me!” she proclaimed to him crossly.
“Oh.” Guilt marred his beautiful eyes as he humbly cast them down.
“Well?” she asked impatiently. “Why did you slice my thumb open?”
The boy hesitantly looked up with an apprehensive smile. “It’s called a blood oath,” he explained. “Something my grandfather once told me about. See, if we press our thumbs together,” — here he carefully demonstrated by pressing her finger to his — “our blood mingles, and we are bound by it.”
She waited for him expectantly.
“It means,” he offered, “that we share the same blood; that we promise to love each other forever, and that one day, I will find you and marry you.”
Crystalline drops rapidly slide down the girl’s cheek as she steps out of her reverie, her eyes intently lingering on the mound of plucked petals. He does love her. She is certain of it. And her finger’s cicatrix has found a way to scar her heart; she loves him beyond a single doubt. But she will be leaving for Boston in a few hours.
And she will never see him again.
