~Behind the Painted on Smiles of a Clown~
The land was bare- there was no life, nor was there any color. The sky, the dirt, the buildings lined up to form a single road… everything was bathed in various shades of gray. I wanted to believe this was all an illusion- a trick of the mind- but I was born in the not, just not yesterday. I walked forward, gravel and dust crunching under leather boots, a light wind twirling my dark blue skirt, as I looked at my only companions.
Doors were wide open, some hanging on by a single hinge. Windows were creaked or broken, glass littering the ground beneath. Flyers- gloomy advertisements for a circus, the same smiling gray toned clown decorating them, plastered on the walls- barely hung onto bricks. My heart clutched when I closely looked at the clowns because I knew who they were. Even now, in what was supposed to be peace, he was still blaming himself for everything. He was mocking himself- his shortcomings, faults, existence- with these flyers.
I looked up, and then I saw him, in the distance. Standing with curled shoulders on a gray dirt hill, his back to me, he reminded me of the little boy he once was when there was something wrong. Scared. Self doubting. Self blaming.
"It's not your fault."
He turned to face me, and I could feel my soul break on the inside when I fully saw him. He looked exactly like he did before he came here- short, dark, slick back hair, a thin moustache that reminded me of a French gentleman, dark eyes that always gave what he was feeling and thinking away. And those eyes were what were making my heart cry out because they were filled to the brim with a soul eating sadness that had me rushing to hold him tightly. Shaky arms came up to return the embrace, his hold tighter than mine as though he was afraid I would disappear.
"I'm sorry, Mother." His voice broke. A sign that he was trying not to cry. "Everything is my fault."
"No, it isn't." I pulled back to cradle his face. "Nothing is your fault and you are not the cause of everything; you know that demon lies." That word was spoken bitterly because if it wasn't for him, none of this heartbreak and tragedy would have happened.
His hands- large and yet so gentle hands- came up to cup my hands as he dejectedly shook his head. "It is my fault. If only I didn't exist-" Before he could finish that sentence, I pulled him down so I could stare hard into his eyes.
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, young man. I love you. Your brother loves you. Your son loves you. It is time to stop this. It is time to leave this place. You deserve so much more than this place," I waved a hand at the gray landscape. Every word was spoken harshly but truthfully, underlined with desperation because I needed him to understand. Understand that if he- my eldest son, one of the three people that held a place in my heart (1)- didn't exist, the world would go black. I would not have his contagious smiles, no matter how rare they are now. His brother wouldn't have a reason to not fall into darkness, to fall into the arms of that family. His son wouldn't know to not stop moving, no matter how dark his road got. We need him just as much as he needs us. We love him just as much as he loves us. "We love you. The world would cease to spin if you weren't here."
Tears swelled up in his dark eyes, slowly closing as he whispered, "But I can't leave, not yet. I lost my brother who died protecting me and who is now walking again with vengeance on his mind. I almost killed my son, no matter what was inside of me, and cursed him to see the truth of the world. Until they find peace, find true happiness, I won't leave. This is my chance to redeem them. To pull them out of the darkness that I helped create in some way. Get them into Heaven."
"What about yourself?"
A sad smile slid across his face, as though he found the idea bittersweet. His eyes opened then, sadness still filling them. "I'm here on borrowed time."
Icy realization filled my veins, threatening to stop my heart. "You didn't…" He wouldn't have possibly done it. I hoped beyond hope that he didn't. But his eyes told me the answer even before he said it.
"Yes, I did"
"Why would you do that?!"
"Because I am a fool who loves too much and too deep."
Whatever was holding back my tears before crumbled into dust; my vision became a blur, my bottom lip shaking. He embraced me again, his taller frame looming over me slightly. And, like a newborn baby, I cried into his broad shoulder. Don't I- as his mother- have the role of being the one burdened with the task of keeping my family safe? Keeping them happy? And yet here was one of my babies- he would forever be one of my babies- filled with grief and regret, all because of that damn demon. He, one of the people who made up my world, sold his soul and place in God's arms, damning himself to nonexistence, to watch and guide his brother and son, the two other people who pushed life into my heart.(2)
Suddenly the wind picked up, dark clouds rolling in, thunderous noise filling up the silence. He pulled away again, the sad smile still present. "It's time for you to go, Mother." Before I could open my mouth to speak, lightning struck the bare earth, a booming sound composed of seemingly thousands of voices accompanying it as it just stood there, tall and menacing.
"It is time to leave."
I wanted to yell, scream "no, I'm not leaving him again" at the concretion of pure power and energy, but my son spoke first. "Hello, Archangel Michael."
"Hello, son of Mary (3)."
He unwound his arms from me, letting them hang at his side. He looked down at me and said, "It is time, Mother. Go back to Heaven."
"But-!" A single finger was pressed against my lips to silence my protest.
"Go, please. Wait for the others." He voice was calm, the sound of a responsible adult. I marveled bitterly at how our positions were reversed- he was the parent telling me, the child, to go. When did this change occur? When did he take on the role of being the protector? When I died? When his brother died? When, controlled by a mindless monster made by the hands of a madman, he almost killed his son who killed him at his request?
He kissed the back of my hands, lips chapped and gentle, the sad smile still present. Softly, he said, "Go." And my body followed the quiet, polite command despite my mind's and heart's anger protests. I walked up to waiting light- archangel, corrected my brain.
"Come." The voices commanded harshly, like I was one of a soldier in God's army. I took one last look at my lonely son. At my son who exchanged heaven for nothing to watch over his brother and son, who will never know how much or how deep he loves them. At the son who was standing tall and watching me with sadness and longing, determination mixed in.
"Goodbye, Mother. I love you."
And that moment sealed the fact that I would never see him again, and tears started to fall down my face again as I yelled over the roar of the angel, over the sound of part of my world shattering into unrepairable pieces,
"Goodbye Mana! I love you!"
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(1) Why would Mother love Allen if she never technically met him? Because he is Mana's son, and that is enough to make him family. She watches him too, and that makes her grow to love him. And I'm a firm believer that Mana loved Allen for being Allen, and not for being Nea's vessel.
(2) If you are confused, let me explain what Mana did. He went up to God and basically gave up his soul (which is needed to be in Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory) in order to completely watch over Nea and Allen. And so he does in this gloomy little town that he made in plane that exists in between the normal places you would go when you died. Why would he want to watch over Nea and Allen? Because he blames himself for Nea's death and Allen's almost death/curse, so this is way to make it up to them in his mind. And because he loves them. End of discussion.
(3) Since Mana's and Nea's Mother doesn't have a name yet, I decided to name her and here is my reason. Because the Nea is kinda like the Jesus of the Noah family since he is the special 14th Noah (they are obsessed with him, there are suppose to only be 13 Noah, etc.), it makes sense in my mind to call her Mary.