Ⅴ Sera of Septero Ⅴ

Pink was Sera’s favorite color. It matched the unusual undertone of his eyes. It wasn’t overpoweringly bright, but it wasn’t dull either. He liked his colors like he liked his meals, with overly specific criteria that held significance to only his subjective opinion. People didn’t understand him. All he knew was that the world around him was gray and bland and there was nothing more exciting than finding treasure in the cracks. It took a special pair of photosensitive eyes to appreciate living in a place like Landfill Beach.

He stood in the kitchen washing a dish and talking to the flowers on the wall again. “Soup today? Come on, not again.” He pretended to argue with the silence in his home. “Let’s kill some hermit crabs instead. Delicious, crunchy shells.” He always smiled at his own jokes. He placed the cracked plate on the counter and stared at the taped-up dried white petals. “Okay fine. We’ll go to the soup kitchen.”

Sometimes you’re just a man precariously positioned between two cauldrons of soup, each with their own enjoyable qualities. “I don’t know,” Sera said, rubbing his chin. “Is corn in season?”

“Corn’s always in season!” The server scolded him. “Make up your mind kid, or you’re getting nothing.”

Sera frowned and pointed at the tomato soup instead. It had less variety, but today felt like a tomato kind of day. 

Walking across the cafeteria was challenging. The blurred figures popped out of nowhere into his vision, causing him to halt every now and then. “Watch where you’re going!” A taller, aggressive guy yelled. Sera sighed and glared at him before heading to the back corner.

The corner table was lonesome and dark. Nobody else sat there besides Sera, because it was old and stained from the years. He had fond memories of his table. It used to be the perfect size to seat his entire family, and it was the last old table they hadn’t replaced. He chose to sit in the same spot and remember the good times when things felt hard.

Once upon a time, there were others who looked just like him. He tried his hardest to forget. When he took his chances and tried to sit with a stranger- in silence since he was bad at knowing what to say- they always got up and left. There were other mutants in Septero. Of course there were, they were everywhere. There just weren't any other mutants like Sera. There used to be days where he thought, today I'll find someone unafraid to touch me. Those dreams had dissolved, but he didn't mind. It was easier to be alone than left behind. 

Wow, tomato soup. Exciting. He was already regretting his choice. He kept looking over at the line and feeling like he was missing out. Oh well, soup wasn’t as important as the real excitement that was to come. He gave up on spoons, too impatient for their lack of efficiency, and lifted the bowl to drink it down. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stood up. He was excitedly anticipating his nightly ride. Surf-skating was the national sport of Landfill Beach, where he was self declared king of course. There wasn’t much of an election though, being the last one left living there.

Before he could head out he felt a tingling sensation against his ankle. He looked down closely and found a sand-fox sniffing his skin. He picked Bero up and stroked her large ears, then scanned the room to see where she had come from. 

“I need a large container to go, thank you,” Esther told the volunteer. She groaned and filled one up. 

“I’m only giving you this much because I haven’t seen you around before. Next time make your rations last.”

Esther frowned but nodded and accepted the offering. She went to place the thermos in her bag and realized Bero had gone missing. “Bero?”

Sera and Bero examined one another quietly. Bero’s tongue was out and panting from the humidity of the kitchen. Sera stuck his out too in an attempt to communicate. It didn’t help him figure out if she was free to steal, so he decided to look around for the owners just in case. 

“Is this your pet?” Sera asked a random family at a table. He held up Bero, who squealed and squirmed in his grip. The family glared at him, shaking their heads and physically moving away slightly. Sera held Bero closer to his chest, cradling her like a baby. “Assholes.” He sighed and walked towards the door. 

“Well, it looks like you’re mine now.” Sera told the fox. If none of those judgemental idiots wanted their fox back after he touched it, he didn’t care. Bero chirped and nuzzled against his cheek, but kept turning her head to sniff for Esther. The further Sera got from the kitchen the louder she became. “Hey, it’s okay! I’m only kidnapping you, calm down.” He frowned and squeezed her. 

Esther gathered her supplies and walked outside into the salty beach air. She saw someone walking in the distance and tilted her head, taking in his odd appearance. After observing him for a bit she heard a bark. Her eyes opened wide and she started running towards the figure. “That’s my fox!”

Sera stopped and spun on his toes. Bero wiggled in his grip and he kneeled down, letting her go run back to Esther. 

Esther opened her bag and Bero jumped right in, panting and licking at her arm. She kept walking towards Sera, trying to get a better look at him. She had seen other mutants in the soup kitchen with unusual eyes, golden hair, or short statures- but he was different. He was about Pepsi’s size, thin and pale. Esther thought he might have been sick at first before she noticed his purely white hair. He had the lightest colored eyes she’d ever seen, unnaturally so, and once she was close enough they appeared red in the light. When he wiped his hands on his loose laced-up tunic she could count his fingers, five on each hand. 

He had to be one of those terrifying mutants from Landfill Beach that Bentley was talking about. Esther furrowed her brows, remembering what he’d said about Septeros and their desperation for food. “Were you trying to eat my fox?!” She yelled at him.

“No!” Sera put his hands up. Wonderful, a pure-blooded giant lady with a sword was upset with him. And he was planning on having such a fun night. This was exactly why he couldn’t have nice things. 

“Why were you running away with her then?” She stepped forwards, but Sera turned and bolted. She saw him running down the beach in the same direction she was headed in, and decided she might as well follow.

———————————————————————————————————————

Sera slammed his door shut when he reached home, his shabby beach shed on the furthest hill of the abandoned landfill lot. He panted and turned towards the array of locks on the door. Two deadbolts, three chain locks, and an ancient combination lock he’d forgotten the passcode to- which didn’t matter since it didn’t work correctly anyway. They had all been installed by his gepatro on the eve of the first flower bouquet. 

Sera was the youngest sibling. His nearest sister, Addy, was his best friend in the entire world growing up. As his fingers turned the combination lock in vain, he thought of her, how she used to sit behind beach bushes for hours as he searched during hide-and-seek. He spun the lock a few times sadly. He had dug through the sand, swam in the waters, and checked every bush for hours. Once he had no choice but to give up, he returned home to find the locks on the door, and his gepatro silently clutching a bouquet of white daisies on the couch.

Sera approached his memorial wall and begged for the answers. “What should I do?” He asked the six bouquets. They used to play together on the beach and dig up odds and ends to make tools and artwork. Sera and his siblings; four of them who shared his white hair and big smile. They walked through the sand letting the waters splash over their bare feet, protecting their skin with umbrellas dug up from the garbage filled hills. The oldest brother had invented surf-skating, which involved wooden boards fashioned with rope at the head to easily glide down the mounds of the landfill. Underneath, wheels could pop out from a twist of the foot, letting the driver coast down the dirt paths of Septero. Sera always wanted to be just like his brother. Now he reached for his dried stems and felt numb.

He crouched down in the corner of the kitchen counters. Sometimes he could still see his gepatro sitting here on the floor on the day their mate disappeared. He had gone to sit beside her and mindlessly braid the ends of her white hair. He whispered for ages, “It’s okay,” but it didn’t make her happy. He tried handing her things; shining rocks he’d collected, glasses of water, colorful picture books that had been discarded.

The words that replayed in his mind came from his gepatro that day. He remembered it so vividly still, the way she pressed the rusted pocket knife into his human-like hand for self defense against those who found him different. “My little Sera.” He hated how she cried when she looked at him. “Promise me you won’t let anything happen to you.”

All he could do was nod as he clutched the knife and kept it in his pocket for the next fifteen years. “I won’t.”

As Esther cautiously made her way towards the house, Sera was waiting for her in his corner. He opened the blade of his knife and stared at the door, ready. In his blurry, dark-spotted vision he could make out the shadow that passed across the light coming in through the windows, getting closer by the minute. One by one, his family stopped coming home. But not him. It was never going to be him. He promised.

There were three, and then there were two. He noticed his sister went missing one day after he’d gone for a walk on the beach. It was the first time sheer panic washed over him, he felt so lightheaded he could barely stand for a week. There was no explanation, just an empty void in his chest he tried to fill by thinking of anything else. That was when he first took up knitting. The repetitive movements helped him dissociate from emotion.

When the last one was gone, Sera shared his gepatro’s sinking feeling in his stomach. He sat cradled in her arms all night in her bed. It was eight years ago, but the memory remained fresh in his mind.

Her reddish tinted eyes connected to his own as she held his face in her five-fingered hands. “My beautiful baby. Do anything you can to protect yourself from Unutero. Bring a dagger with you, anything you need, and never let them see you cry. Happiness is a choice Sera. If you always choose it, you’ll be okay. Remember that my love. If anything happens to me, remember what you have to do.”

Five years ago, Sera received a knock on his door. He opened it to find three Unutero clinicians standing there. 

“We are here to inform you that your gepatro has passed away. She was found crying in the soup kitchen today and we evaluated her for depression. She consented to state-issued mental health treatment in the form of euthanasia for her incurable symptoms.”

“She consented to suicide?” Sera asked, too far in disbelief to feel anything at all.

“We’re sorry for your loss. Unutero offers you this consolation in these trying times.” They handed him a bouquet of daisies that he held as they closed the door. Time stood still. Everything had stopped at that moment, not a drop of water from the leaky sink. Ringing played from every corner of the room in his ears. It lasted forever. Sera clutched the bouquet of flowers against his chest. He fell to the ground and rocked back and forth, shutting his eyes, hyperventilating. 

“Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.” He repeated to himself. It was too risky to feel anything at all. He had to force himself to stand up and run to his bedroom, where he sat for three days without getting up. All he did was knit one and purl one, winding up with a blanket the size of his mattress. He kept his hands busy, focusing on nothing but the vibrant colored yarn against his white skin. It was the only way to keep his promise to be happy.