The Eyes of Agnes

“Let me see my daughter,” says Agnes Esperanza Volokh, her voice strained but firm.

The eyes of Agnes burn with the intensity of a desperate mother.

Short, fiery auburn locks add a dimension of smoldering rage to her portrait of courage.

“A quarantine is in effect,” says the soldier, dressed from head to toe in riot control gear. “We have the situation under control.”

Call it a mother’s intuition, but something – no, everything – is wrong with the situation.

Agnes instinctively knows her daughter is alive but also in grave danger.

The quarantine is a convenient lie.

“I will say one more time. Let me see my daughter.”

“Back off, lady. No one is allowed in the quarantine zone.”

Agnes stands her ground, hoping to muster the courage to defy the soldier’s order.

She must save her daughter.

Agnes slowly wraps the fingers of her right hand around the wooden handle of an old kitchen carving knife hidden in her coat pocket.

The knife is a family heirloom handed down to Agnes from her mother, Olga.

Agnes intends to pass the knife down to her daughter, Maria.

The Eyes of Agnes

Agnes glances from the soldier’s masked face to the military research facility in the background.

Dark smoke pours from the building’s top floor, filling the beautiful blue sky with an inky blackness.

Maria is in there, Agnes thinks. My brave daughter.

Agnes pulls the knife from her coat pocket and holds it up for all to see.

“Viva la revolución!” she yells.

Agnes charges the soldier.

The rest of the crowd follows.

The revolution begins.