We stood under the tumultuous rain. Drenched to the bone and shivering all through we stood strong, our signs held high and our determination raised with it.
There were people under umbrellas and some people in cars who were passing by staring. We paid them no mind, we wanted them to stare.
We needed them to look at the signs, read the words, see our actions, know what we want, know what we feel, know what we need.
"Tomorrow will come."
It was a mantra that was always recited in our hidden meetings. One said during rallies and the term my sister loved best.
I, myself didn't know what it meant exactly, yet with each day I spent with my sister, each day I looked at the streets filled with beggars and the homeless, or at the dilapidated homes of the poor who have to choose between using their money to starve less or try and fix their homes just to watch the repairs wash away with the next rain, of the girls who get their chastity stolen and their lives ruined at a whim by those officers who are meant to protect us, I knew that we need a change, a new slate, a new day.
I shivered again as a cold breeze passed through our group. We stood just outside a grand house. White paint and a gate with guards posted outside.
A gate was the symbol of wealth, it meant you had something really valuable to try and protect.
Only like 5 houses had gates, but only this one had guards.
They eyed us wearingly, hands on their batons and chest puffed out, hoping they at least looked menacing enough to prevent any rough housing.
It was an unsuccessful bluff, because I knew they weren't any more fed than any of us, they had been posted there throughout the night of our stay and their employers hadn't thought that their guards would need food.
Despite that I knew them even more, the recognition flashed between us as they saw my blue eyes and I eyed the scars on their chin.
They were the twins "Skar and Drehy".
Slaves turned to guards because of their big builds and loud voices.
My mother said it was a stroke of luck and my father called it an ingenious idea.
Their mother died after their birth and they were pretty much awkward at everything else. They would have been tossed into the streets if I hadn't proposed guard duty.
I remembered the praise I had gotten those years back and how proud I felt then.
I shuddered again, yet no breeze blew.
Soon the door opened. Everyone around me immediately became tense.
"Did our voices get heard?", "Is it over?", "Who's coming?"
I was silent though. Skar and Drehy also turned to look as my sister Vi came down.
The rain had now stopped, leaving the ground wet and slick and the air full of life.
My sister reached the gate and gave our signal.
The elders understood and broke people off quickly and quietly.
I was flabbergasted, no cheers of victory nor sighs of loss. Just silence as the crowd scattered and everyone returned to where they came from.
Soon I was the lone figure standing wet.
The gate opened as my sister came out, I heard her say a "thanks" to our former slaves before she stood before me.
"When they told me that you had gathered under the rain with everyone my heart was in my mouth." She said forcing humor into the tense atmosphere.
"How were they?" I asked plainly, unable to address those people as our mother and father.
"Curt, polite and distant. It was a miracle they didn't call Skar to come throw me out." She replied with a sigh.
"So why did you go to them? Why go back after we ran away for all those years?" I poured out my heart. Pained that she went to face those monsters alone, even more pained that they weren't even moved by the loss of their daughters.
Vi knelt down in front of me. Brushing away my slick wet hair which stuck to my face.
"I didn't go back to them. That in fact was the first sentence that came through my mouth as I looked at their polished floors and extravagant food.
They made a show to tempt me... They nearly won, but I knew what I went there to do. I knew why I needed to talk to them."
"Why?" I asked, confused.
She parted her jacket slightly to show some gold and a piece of paper in the inner pocket.
I made to drag it out but she quickly hid them back again.
"You stole from them?" I asked aghast.
"That's what it would look like. In reality I'm just claiming what is mine. The other one isn't a stolen possession."
She stopped there, not wanting to give anymore and we started talking down the streets.
"We need some money Tia."
I turned sharply as she used the short form of my name, something she hasn't used in a long time that it almost felt alien.
She smiled at my reaction but continued.
"Tomorrow is coming but the way we are -the way the community is- people may not meet it.”
"You and the others keep on saying that but I don't understand what it means. 'Tomorrow is coming' yet isn't that common sense, I mean tomorrow so tomorrow and it is indeed coming."
Vi burst out laughing at that, and my cheeks felt hot with embarrassment despite the chill of wet clothes.
Across the street we saw a beggar begin setting up his mat and lie on it, the sight of it shut her up completely.
He looked flimsy and cold, yet with no work and no food or home, he might as well be on the streets with his money bowl.
The ground was wet and in this weather highly unlikely for someone to pass, but maybe he would get a coin.
It was a sombre moment, Vi's eyes stuck on the old man for a long time.
Without any warning, she started talking.
"Tomorrow isn't a day, it's a specific moment. A moment of shift, of change. A moment when things like this wouldn't be happening.
A moment where there wouldn't be beggars in the streets or hunger and abject poverty in people's homes."
She walked towards the beggar and put a copper coin in his bowl."
He smiled and thanked her profusely.
"A moment when a copper coin wouldn't bring such joy to a person's heart. Tomorrow is the moment of hope, it's what we as a group strive for, it's what this piece of paper in my jacket ensures, and it is indeed coming."
I looked at her as she looked back at the old man, doing a ritual of thanks to the gods for such good luck over a copper coin. It turned my stomach, yet what made me uncomfortable most was my sister crying over as she looked at the man.
With a shaky emotion filled voice she replied.
"Tomorrow must come, or I'll drag it here with my own hands."
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This is my entry to the inkwell fiction prompt Will Tomorrow Ever Come.
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