Through My Eyes
One
A thin, pale boy of about five years old looked at the setting sun and sighed. Papa's going to be mad again. He thought. Well I should at least try to get home in time, not that it'll make a difference, he just likes to hit me… Stop it! The boy told himself firmly. I shouldn't pity myself like that…
The boy did in fact arrive home late, and as he had predicted, his Father was waiting.
"Little bastard!" He cried, slapping the boy with no apparent concern that his victim was his son. "Can't you do one single thing right? I told you to be back by sunset!"
"Dear," a woman's voice called from another room of the tent-like house. "You shouldn't get so mad at him, he's only a child. The woman stepped into view. Her gorgeous silvery hair was held in a loose ponytail, her calm grey eyes now filled with concern for her son. The woman was a beauty all right, a perfect figure down to the smallest detail. Some called Kalilla a goddess, others a witch. But any way you looked at it, she was beautiful.
The man made a hmph sound, but said nothing else. His son was getting off easy tonight. His wife knew that her punishment would come later. But there were things to attend to. Picking her little son up, she carried him to the bedroom and laid him down on some furs. He sat up again instantly. "Emuato, lie down, please," Kalilla ushered her son in a worried tone. Emuato did not reply, his grey eyes stayed fixed on the tips of his worn black boots. In many ways, the small boy resembled his mother. silver hair, going downwards from his earlobes to the middle of his neck, grey eyes, and a calm demeanor that made him seem much older than five.
"Mama," he said quietly. The woman turned and looked at her son.
"Yes? What is it, dear?"
"There's a question that's been bothering me for a while now." Kalilla looked at her child. She knew what was coming.
"Yes, Emuato?"
"Why does everyone hate me?" The simple question coming from the lips of a child might have scared other mothers, but Kalilla knew it was a well backed-up statement. Though her son denied it, she knew that the older boys in the village beat up on him in an unforgivable manner. Adults scorned him. Even the children his own age only gave him fearful glances before dashing off as quickly as possible. She looked into Emuato's uncovered left eye, and for just a split second, saw a silver flash of light, and a black symbol for 'dipper'. "You'll find out soon," she said, pain in her voice.