Father chuckles. “I can tell that much. Anyways, I need you to run an errand for me. That ok with you?” It’s not like I have a choice, so I nod. “Brilliant. Now… where did I put it?” Twisting his face in concentration, he searches his pockets while resting the other side on his crutch. “Aha!” He brings out a small, rectangular, and loosely wrapped parcel.
“And that is?” I inquire.
“I need you to deliver this back to Jocelyne for me. You remember her right?”
Where have I heard that name before…? It seems so familiar yet I can’t place it. Think Nanami, think...Oh, got it. She used to babysit me when Everest was off training with the TSCU (Teredian Soldier Core Unit). There’s only three things I really remember about her though. First, she had charcoal colored hair that always smelled of peppermint. Second, she made the most amazing fried noodles. And finally, she was obsessed with tickling the secret spot under my knee. It’s been at least thirteen years since I’ve seen her.
Father continues. “Anyways, I borrowed this from her a month or two ago, who knows, and finally finished the damn thing. Seeing as I’m in no shape to go, I was hoping you could be the one to return it to her. She lives near Temps bridge in Turww. Only a few miles from Aunt Hannah. There’ll be a row of houses as you cross the bridge. She’s the third one to your left, ok? Oh and don’t forget. You’ll be passing near Hamasaki territory and by no means are you to venture in or around there. Got it?”
“Ok sure,” is all I have to say back to him.
Father’s always hated the Hamasakis and I guess I can understand why. Kulym is nothing more to them than a figment of Mayen’s imagination. They don’t believe there’s a God out there who created anything at all. Frankly, I’ve never told father this, but I think they’re absolutely right. The idea that one deity could’ve just spawned an entire world on His own seems extremely far fetched in my opinion. And seriously, how did He come to be then? I suppose He just came from nothing? It’s something that’s bugged me for years. Anyways, father is an avid believer as is basically all of frickin Teredia so naturally, he wants nothing to do with that clan. He says they’ll brainwash me, make me impure in Kulym’s “all-seeing eyes”. So, say a prayer, stick a smile in His name, and you’ll be fine.
He beams. “Excellent, you can get going right after the morning prayer.” Father hands me the book and slowly heads down the stairs, hobbling with the wooden stick.
As soon as he’s halfway downstairs, I hurriedly shut my door and lean against it. Dara and his bedhead peek out from the closet. “Can I come out now?”
“Yeah.”
Sticking his arms over his head, he yawns. “Certainly not a master suite in there.” No shit, Mr. Obvious. His hands run along the back of his head, revealing his ponytail to be unraveled and the green bow missing. Shocked, he looks around his feet rapidly as I calmly glance at the pillow. It’s strewn across the fabric in a pretty obvious manner, but Dara doesn’t take notice of it at all. I head over and retrieve it for him, stepping in front of his still frantic figure. “Looking for this?” He lifts his head up and seems relieved to have ‘found’ it.
He runs his elongated fingers through his mahogany mayhem, gathering strands together and finally tying them into a neat ponytail that hangs down the back of his neck. For someone who’s apparently lived in seclusion from society most of their life, he sure knows how to keep himself in order.
“You seem pretty attached to that bow,” I mutter to him.
Dara slowly removes his hands from his head and strikes me with a depressing stare. “It’s the only thing I have left from my family.”
Well, there you have it. I couldn’t be sinking this conversation any further than I have been. Everything about this guy seems to have a backstory, and of course, that had to include his damn bow as well. “Sorry,” I apologize. I mean it too.
He lets out a drawn-out sigh. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you could’ve known that. Let’s just concentrate on getting Cassidy back right now, ok? I mean, that is why I’m here in the first place.” After adjusting his shirt, Dara heads towards the door. However, I stop him before he can make it to the doorknob.
“Hold on a second Mister Eager. You do realize my father’s still down there right?”
A bewildered look sits on his face. “So?”
My patience is running thin. “Sooooo, you have to wait until it’s clear to go downstairs. Believe me, if father were to find out a boy was hiding in my room, all night nonetheless, well, let’s just say you can kiss those fancy horns goodbye.”
Dara shrugs and begins to push me aside. “It’s not like I wanted these things in the first place so-”
My fingers press into the bridge of my nose. As resilient as this guy is, he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to hyperboles.
“Look, ignore what I said and just listen for a second. What I mean is that if father even catches scent of you here, Cassidy is as good as dead. Willing to hear me out?”
As expected, bringing Cassidy’s name into the risk of the situation heightens his attention. “Ok, I’m all ears.”
“I need you to wait at the top of the banister as I go downstairs and scope out where father is. Once the coast is clear, I’ll nod up to you and you need to quickly get your tail outta here. You can start asking for information and anything you might need for your search at that point. Sound good?”
Dara nods and lets me take the lead outside the room. As we discussed, he stays at the head of the railing as I descend the stairs. Good. Father’s nowhere to be seen. Nodding up to Dara, I hang onto the rail nervously. Halfway through his coming down, I hear the familiar pok… pok… of my father and his trusty crutch. “Dammit,” I slip out under my breath. Hastily unlocking the door, I try to wave him along. Dara speeds up his footsteps and makes it out right as father peeks around the corner of the hall. The door shuts and my hands start to shake.
“Why did you have the door open?” father asks curiously.
“Fly got in.” I prepare for his disbelief.
“Oh. Ok.” Seemingly believing that, he shrugs his shoulders and limps over to the kitchen table. My heart flutters as I slump against the door, relieved.
After a meager serving of eggs and ‘turkey bacon’ (more like seared strips of dry breast), it’s time for my favorite part of the day. The joy this prayer gives me compares to nothing else in the world. The elegant words of the oath mixed with the scent of the beeswax candle are just so uplifting. Oh, how could I imagine life without our dear lord Kulym? Literally just kill me. Every morning the youngest person above four is supposed to light a very musty smelling candle and recite a ten-line verse about Kulym’s power and their undying devotion to him. More like the biggest waste of five minutes I’ve ever experienced. I won’t even repeat the prayer because it’s so terribly written. It doesn’t deserve to be said again.
Once I complete those minutes of torture, I take the parcel and unlock the front door. “Father, I’m heading out!”
“Be safe!” he calls back from behind his newspaper.
Heatwaves sit in the stiff air when I walk out, suddenly causing my throat to seize up. Of all days, why does today have to be hot? An occasional late morning breeze breaks the tension, but only brings temporary relief as I start down the path. I’ve always been able to tolerate heat better than most people, but I won’t lie when I say it does tend to slow me down. Everest was like that too. We would spend hours in the midday sun just wandering around. Sure, I got a few sunburns, but I never felt the pain of it until after I came in contact with the cool air of our house. Considering how hot Nioleme gets in the summer months, I really should be grateful for my tolerance of it.
I attempt to formulate the relative distance of things in my head as I continue along. Temps bridge is about two miles east from Aunt Hannah’s house and leads into a stretch of fairly expensive homes. The only probable reason Jocelyne can live out there is that she inherited a loved one’s fortune. There’s no way a woman as middle class as her would just be able to get lucky and hit a sweet deal. Those homes are palaces to someone like me. Living on a single dad’s income that has just been cut for a month doesn’t leave a lot of luxury to us. And considering how much of that money goes into his drinking problem, it’s a miracle I can even afford the small amount of fruit I buy each week.
I stroll along for half an hour or so, but as I’m about to pass the road to Temps bridge, a set of barricades and signs stand in my way.
“CLOSED FOR CONSTRUCTION: PLEASE REDIRECT YOURSELF; WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE ~THE CONSTRUCTION BUREAU OF NIOLEME”
A drop of sweat dribbles into my twitching eye. What kind of construction could they possibly be doing to a path like this? It looks perfectly intact to me...From what I can tell, they’ve barely even started any damn work.
I now look to the area surrounding me, not familiar with any of it except for the path I expected to be open. A detour seems to be to my right, so I take it considering it’s either that or turn back. The once gravelly terrain has become grassy and dotted in yellow dandelions, making rockhopper wasps a more common sight. Twisting and turning, my legs seem to mimic the mesmerizing bending of the woods. Here a new path, yet there’s another. Oh, look, a crossroad. Two lefts, three rights? With my inner compass going haywire, I start to panic. Unfamiliar trees just keep passing me up so I inhale deeply and stop. Nanami, just relax, you’re alone. Stop and think for a moment. I need to find some way to get back to the path I was originally on. My feet continue on their own as my mind tries to catch up, but that doesn’t go as planned seeing as I trip on a piece of blackened stone. Regaining my balance, I look in front of me to find mossy remnants of charred lumber. More and more pop up as I pursue the now growing trail of ‘firewood’.
Soon, a whole splayed field of decomposing houses and toppled instruments of daily life fills my panoramic view. Utensils resembling fireworks burst across the dirt. Ashen rugs drape over doors that have clearly seen better days. Femurs and mandibles litter the weeds and an occasional intact skull grins up at me. This was a village. I tiptoe through the rubble in an effort to understand what happened, but with the same items littering my way, it becomes futile. Now my legs ache, great. I plant myself at the base of a tree that has half turned to ashes and try to solve my predicament slowly. I’m in a ruined village. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I’m lost. Optimism isn’t really a viable feeling right now. With eyelids drooping, I glance to the trees in front of me and notice an abnormal-looking mass up in the leaves. I’m not getting anywhere by sitting here so might as well check it out. Better than chilling with the eerie mass of skeletons scattered about.
After dragging myself to the distant patch of trees, a dark cherry wood treehouse greets me, a spiral birch staircase encircling the entirety of the trunk. Strange. This house is much deeper in here than the remains of the village. The main house connects to two smaller additions on the top and bottom walls. It’s an interesting design, to be honest. It’s sloppily laid roof has obviously seen better days considering there’s about ten patches covering various openings in the shingles. Vines cover the tree trunk tiles and wind around the whole establishment. When I travel behind it, I discover a quaint balcony that leads into the dark ridden space. A young family would probably feel right at home here, but it really doesn’t appear very habitable at the moment. I shake the wooden railing of the stairs and find them to be set firmly in place. It seems a safe enough place to take a quick rest, so I make my way up the stairs and head inside. Not surprisingly, the door’s unlocked and it’s sadly easy for me to just invite myself in. Normally, I don’t just break into people’s homes, but considering the circumstances, I’ll let myself do it this once.
Humid air immediately sets in on my skin when I walk into, what seems to be, the dining room. A tiny stove and basin for water sit against the wall, collecting dust amongst rusty buckets placed across the floor. Guess those patches only do so much for the roof. In the center is a maroon table with four pillows surrounding it. A cozy yet poor appearing room. Suitable for my tastes. Next to the table is another birch spiral staircase that leads into an upstairs area. Wondering what else I can find, I head up there as well. The first room is nothing special, consisting only of a musty bed and dust-filled air. However, the room I end up in reveals itself to be a bit more interesting. Mosquito netting wraps around the cleaner bed and the floor is littered with what I assume are handmade children’s toys and carvings. A couple of wrinkled sweaters are thrown around, exhibiting only bland shades of greys and browns. With my feet trying to avoid the frequent splinters of wood, another balcony comes into my path. It only seems large enough to fit two people, but what intrigues me is that there are three dead yellow squirrels hanging to dry. These look like they were just killed this morning.
Before I can investigate further, my legs remind me of their fatigue and the idea of the soft bed looms over me like a cloud. It’s right there… A couple of minutes wouldn’t hurt, right? Besides, I need to be energized for when I try to head back home.
My devil gets the best of me and sets me propped on the pillow behind the netting. Sleep drowns me promptly, but I almost wish it hadn’t. The nightmare that forms in front of my eyes is not a welcome sight at all. It’s the playthrough of my brother’s death.
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