An Eldian's Journal

Chapter 3: A wallkeeper – A home concert

"What do you say, Heinrich?"

I gazed at the scrunched-up face before me. All I could see was a look of desperation with a tinge of madness. This was truly a boy cursed with ambition.

"Viktor, I.." Right when I uttered those words, a moving shadow with a hat entered my vision from a house nearby. As it approached, it revealed itself bit by bit and I could make out a grey uniform and a rifle hanging awkwardly around his torso. It was the Marleyan officer from earlier. His mouth opened as if he was about to say something, but a measly cough crawled out instead. When he was finished with his coughing fit, he managed to ask his favorite question, "What are you doing out here?"

Viktor calmly took his hands off my shoulders and turned towards the officer while raising his arms in a pleading manner. I could tell he was trying his hand at the art of manipulation:

"Sorry officer but our parents were fighting, and w-we got s-scared so we ran out here."

Everything was almost perfect, yet he failed to complete the most crucial part: the tears. The officer unsurprisingly rolled his eyes. I could only imagine how many times he heard this pitiful response. He then told us to scram but just as he was about to walk away his metal gaze landed on Viktor's left arm. More specifically, his inside-out armband. Big Mistake.

"What's the meaning of this?!" A flame lit in the officer's eyes as he took one long, final drag on his cigarette and banished it to the ground.

"I can have you two reported for this! But because of the special day…" The man was already eyeing his second cigarette. "…I'll let you off easy. All I need you to do is recite the pledge."

Ahh yes. The honorable pledge basically saying that Eldians suck, Marleyans are superior and we are thankful for their mercy blah blah. Trying to avoiding conflict (like always) , I immediately raised my right hand and began the pledge. Each word pricked my tongue as it left my mouth. Ironically, the officer seemed more entranced by the fireworks than any of us.

"-great nation of Marley."

Upon finishing, I noticed Viktor staring at me with eyes as big as golf-balls almost as if I was a good little dog listening to its master. The officer looked away from the fireworks and glared at Viktor. He then closed his eyes, let out a sigh, and asked, "You know what can happen to your family if you don't listen to me, right?" Viktor bit his lip upon the word family.

"Fine, I'll recite it…" Viktor raised his right hand up. "…with my feet."

Just like that every male human, Eldian or Marleyan, within a one-mile distance felt a disturbance in the air. A disturbance signifying the greatest pain any man can ever feel: getting hit in the balls. It was so sharp that I almost felt a twinge in mine. In one agonizing second, the officer's legs failed him and his giraffe-like figure tumbled to the pavement with his lit cigarette burning his uniform. Without wasting any time, Viktor bolted past me away from the gate and I followed shortly after. Once I caught up, I asked him:

"Don't fighters fight with honor?"

He returned a light chuckle, "Honor can wait."

As we were about to enter "hell street" we heard a faint roar from a distance behind us, "You'll pay for that you little, Saukerl!"

"Speaking of paying back…you still owe me the fee, Heinrich"

***OFFICER HUBERT HAUSENBERGERDORFF***

Soon to be dubbed, "The Wall-keeper man"

One could think he was trying to compensate for something with a name that long

He liked swearing in the Marleyan language

Saukerl refers to pigs

He was a patient man for Viktor would indeed pay him back, more than he needed to in fact.

As Viktor and I entered our respective houses, a pressing issue came to my attention: my parents.

I hung my newsboy hat on the stand near the doorway and put my shoes away, manually untying them rather than kicking them off into the wall like I always did. I then proceeded through the living room feeling for objects since the nightlight appeared to be sleeping. I managed to pass my parents' rooms and I finally managed to reach my own room.

Mission Accomplished.

Or so I thought.

I gently opened the door to see my yellow light was alive with dust. A stout middle-aged woman was sitting on my bed with a guitar sleeping behind her. "There you are! Want to learn some Guitar, Heinrich?"

(You're confused, aren't you? Trust me, that day was beyond bizarre.)

I began trying to piece together some narrative in my head to explain why I was out but all that left my mouth was gibberish: "I was just uhh playing outside..no in the bathroom...". All my soft-spoken words drifted with the musty air. I kept going on like that for a bit, but my Mama raised her hand to stop me. I just looked at the wooden floor beneath me, pulling tears back in.

"Sit here Heinrich." Mama patted the bedsheet to the left of her.

"I'm sorry, mama."

"Just humor me, will you?"

I slowly walked over to her with my heavy feet. A tender smile occupied her face, while her eyes told a different story. She reached behind and pulled out the instrument while explaining softly. "I haven't played this thing in a while, but I didn't have the heart to throw it out when we moved…" Mama almost appeared a little uncomfortable while holding the instrument. "…And to tell you the truth, I only remember the basics."

The basics were more than I knew at that moment.

She handed the guitar to me and I set its curved, wooden body on my right thigh. I stiffly held onto the strings with my left hand and my back became a board. My mom let out a soft chuckle. "Just relax. Why are you so stiff?" (getting caught by an officer DEFINITELY wasn't a reason for that. Not even close…)

She put a small wooden pick in my right hand. It wore slightly worn-down edges. "Use this to strum the strings okay? And don't drop it into the hole." I accepted with slight reluctance.

"Let's start with an E. Don't press any of the strings with your left hand. Just strum the thinnest string." She pointed out to the bottom string out of the six. I then positioned the pick over the soundhole and gave it a meager strum.

A tinny, muffled sound made its way out of the instrument.

"Try it again. Don't be afraid to make a big sound." I tried it again but applied more pressure. This time a clean but mellow sound filled the area surrounding us.

***A NEW FACT***

Metal can clang and bang

Metal strings can sing

"Nice job! Let's try an F."

Mama pointed it out and I put my left hand into position. There was almost a slight chill on the metal strings. They hadn't been open to the warm human touch for long enough. Oddly though, a slight burn crawled into the tip of my pointer finger while pressing on the string.

"Mama, it hurts a little."

My mom roared with laughter but immediately covered her mouth when she realized it was like 12:30 AM. "A big boy like you hurt by a wittle stwing?..." She cleared her throat. "Sorry, your fingers will get used to them over time." It was laughable really. I could handle taking punches, but I couldn't handle pressing a string.

I went ahead and strummed an F. Once again, a clean, mellow sound filled the room with the only difference being a higher pitch. I closed my eyes to simply listen, but the sting in my left-hand finger grew unbearable.

Mama gave a brief shrug." well.. it's a start."

I put the guitar behind me and looked at the metal face to the right of me. It was melting into a warm smile. But it soon fell into a faint frown.

"Heinrich, you don't need to tell me what you did out there…but let me just remind you somethings."

I returned a cautious nod.

"Remember your aunt? You know the one who fought for.." She put up air quotes for the next word. "Justice?"

I returned an invisible nod.

"When my sister tried fighting for change in these walls she got taken away and brought shame to us. That's why we moved here."

She took a brief pause and looked out the window, towards Viktor's home. "That's the thing with some of these revolutionaries. In their excitement and drive, they never think to understand that their actions can hurt us more than help-"

"Mama, I wasn't out there trying to be a revolutionary. I just wanted to watch-"

She put a finger on my lips.

"That kid you've been playing with this past week. Do you think I haven't been watching? He has that spark in his eyes just like your aunt did."

I knew exactly what she was talking about.

She let out a soft chuckle. "Your grandpa had the right idea. Those freaky little stories he wrote, even though they were pathetic the geezer wanted to make life more bearable."

She put her hand on my right shoulder, "Remember this Heinrich, there's no wrong in trying to make people feel good with what they do have."

It all made sense then. "Make people feel good with what they have." "Make life more bearable". Hence, the guitar.

She touched her eye with the back of her sleeve and sniffled. Her voice began to quiver. "Enough of that…Now, let me teach you scales, some chords… I don't know how to read sheet music.. let alone read in general..."

I could tell she was changing the subject but her words still hung in the air. But they left as a man peered through the doorway.

"Can I join in? Oh, were you guys talking about something meaningful? I'll just go back to sleep then."

Mr. Steiner. My papa.

***A FRIENDLY TALK FROM MAMA TO PAPA***

"Hey, fool! Did you know our son was outside in the dark?"

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't wake up to check. Unlike you, I don't get up for nightly snack breaks."

"Oh please, you don't think I notice you taking those magazines with pretty girls on the covers to the bathroom?"

"Can we play a song? All of us together?", I asked. The bickering ceased and all eyes latched onto me.

"But you don't know any guitar yet," Mama responded.

"Maybe he can the bang the headboard on his bed," papa said while pawing at his stubbly face. Mama returned his proposal with a glare. "What? I'm serious. He can bang his wrist against it like a drum."

Mama clapped back: "Maybe I can bang your head against it."

An excitement stood in me. "Let's do that! With my wrist I mean."

Mama and papa looked at each other in cautious agreement. He then walked into the room and leaned lazily against the wall, with his arms crossed. Mama picked up the guitar and attempted some chords while grimacing at papa's warm-up exercises.

I sat on the bed while trying my wrist on the headboard. Simply said, it hurt like hell.

Why hadn't we done this before? My papa used to sing in the years before his hairline started to retreat and mama used to play guitar in the years when she was not so plump. I never did find out why they quit.

Mama eyed the sleepy man near the doorway and said, "Let's play that one song. You know? That song about a girl that got stuck in this country when her love fled to Paradis and-"

My papa quickly clapped back. "I am not singing as a girl."

"For the love of-"

"Ok ok. I'll just replace 'he' to 'she'." (That's always a quick fix)

He took his finger and began moving it in the air as if he was drawing out the melody. Down and up. Up and down. "What are the lyrics again?"

Mama briskly slapped her face. "You, fool! That was our wedding song!"

"Yeah? So what?"

I gave mama a pillow and she shot it at the man's groin. Needless to say, there were a lot of groin shots that day.

Papa recoiled from the hit and quickly cleared his throat. "I'll just hum the parts I don't know."

"There should be a lot of those," my mama whispered while stealing a glance at me.

Papa took a step away from the doorway and took in a deep breath followed by an earth-shattering cough. "Are you all ready?" He asked.

"No."

"Yes? I'll count us off."

I set my wrist on the head-board and mama set the pick on the strings.

"A one- a two- a you know what to do."

Just like that, a deep melody resonated from my dad and filled the room. I never knew such a sound could come from that old perv. My mama closed her eyes as she strummed away with an occasional missed note. There was also me who struggled to find the rhythm until halfway through the song.

We were all one step closer to a noise complaint.

***A BAND OF JOLIE MUSICIANS***

A croaky singer

An out of tune guitar

An offbeat "drummer"

Ymir was frolicking about the room, enjoying the melody. But then came a passing thought, "Maybe living comfortable, ain't so bad."

With that one thought, Ymir halted in place. For the first time, my imaginary friend glared right at me with her callous stare. Not to anyone else. Just me. It would take me a few more years to really understand her.

All of us would have many more nights like this for the coming 2-3 years. Until they stopped.

PART 1

Complete

The Real Author's Notes

Happy new year everyone! I'll most likely not be posting anything for the next month since I got shit to do.

If anyone is wondering if there's going to be any canon characters, I may be adding cameos here and there but the focus of this story is supposed to be on regular people living on Marley rather than the military aspect we see from the main story. I hope you all keep reading (the story will get more upbeat sometime soon).

As always, feedback is welcome.