*Forsaken*
Kyle was outside chopping firewood when he saw the Mayor and the Great Healer coming up the hill towards his house. He could tell by their expressions that this was not a courtesy call and knew that it would be concerning his son. That was the only reason why other villagers ever came by anymore. He set down his hatchet and wiped the sweat from his forehead so that he might appear willing to discuss whatever it was. Inwardly, however, the whole debate felt incredibly stale and dredging it up made him weary beyond comprehension.
"May we have a word with you and your wife, Kyle?" the Mayor asked.
"What's this about, sir?" Kyle inquired. He knocked on the door to alert Dora of their visitors.
"We found that boy with some of the other village children, including my grandson."
"Oh, is that all?" said Kyle with a casual air. "You make it sound like there's something wrong with that. Surely you aren't suggesting that it's wrong for a little boy to play with his peers?"
"Of course not," said the Great Healer. "But Isaac isn't exactly an ordinary boy, is he?"
"You're right," Dora said, coming outside. "He's extraordinary. He's only five years old and he's more kind and compassionate than anyone else in this village, even though you're all constantly scorning his very existence."
The Mayor's lip twitched. "We're asking if you might find some way to keep him away from the other children."
"And how would you have us do that?" Kyle asked.
"It makes no difference to me how you go about it," the Mayor replied. "As long as he stays far away from everybody, especially the children."
Dora frowned. "Why don't you just come out and say it, Mayor? If it were up to you, you'd have us lock Isaac away somewhere and never let him see the light of day again, wouldn't you?"
"I only want what's best for everyone."
"Well what about what's best for Isaac?" she demanded. "He's a resident of Vale too, and he deserves to be treated with the same respect as everyone else. Why is that so impossible?"
"Because he's not the same as everyone else," said the Mayor. "You cannot deny the fact that he's different."
"Mayor, I don't believe that his being mute makes it necessary to isolate him from the world," Kyle said. "Your grandson was willing to give him a chance. Why aren't you?"
"You would have this entire village in a state of panic just so that one boy could have his way?" the Mayor questioned. "Be reasonable!"
"There wouldn't be any panic in the first place if those in power would stop reinforcing the paranoia!" Dora exclaimed.
"And you think it's not warranted?" The Mayor was having a difficult time controlling his temper. "We all know that only evil things are punished, and why else would the gods withhold his voice other than to punish him? He has to be touched in some way."
"He's not evil!" Kyle insisted. "He's just an innocent child—how can you accuse him of something so outrageous? It makes no sense!"
"What doesn't make sense to me is why I didn't insist that you dispose of him the moment he was born!" said the Mayor bitterly. "I took pity on you, Kyle, and left that decision to you. I was a fool to assume that you'd do the right thing."
"I disagreed on what the right thing was."
"And now the rest of us must live with the consequences of your differing opinion. But I will have order in this town one way or the other." He turned to go. "Keep that boy away from everyone or so help me, I will do it for you!" And he went up the hill towards his house.
Dora fought back tears. "Why does it have to be like this?" she asked quietly, leaning on her husband.
"Kyle, Dora, I am so sorry about this," said the Great Healer. He looked genuinely sympathetic. "I know this must hurt you greatly since Isaac means so much to you."
"He's not a demon," Kyle insisted again. "Surely you realize that, don't you?"
The Great Healer shook his head. "The gods sometimes do things that are beyond our mortal comprehension. I do not know precisely why Isaac wasn't given a voice. He may be a demon or he may be something else entirely. All I know is that as long as the Mayor and the villagers think him a demon, he will never be accepted here." He sighed. "I am sorry, but I think you should've taken my advice five years ago and spared your son from all of this pain." And he walked back towards the town sanctum.
Kyle seated himself on the chopping block, the weariness visibly weighing upon his shoulders. "I will never understand them."
"If they would just stop letting their superstitions cloud their judgment…" Dora added.
There was a pause as they both tried to absorb and understand everything the Mayor and the Great Healer had said. It was so unfair. Their son had never done anything to warrant this kind of treatment and it appeared that nothing would ever change in Vale. He'd lived here peacefully for five years and yet they still refused to admit that they were mistaken. No doubt the scene where they'd found him with the other kids hadn't been a pleasant one.
"Maybe the Great Healer's right," Kyle began quietly.
"How can you say that?!" his wife cried in surprise.
"Don't misunderstand me, Dora. I love our son more than I can say—truly I do. That's what makes this so unbearable. I can't stand watching them treat him this way and not being able to do anything about it. He deserves so much better than this!"
"It's not your fault. We can't change their minds unless they're willing to change, which they obviously aren't. Their stubborn refusal to let go of those fears isn't something we can control."
Kyle nodded. "And Isaac is the one who has to suffer. I often think back to that night by the river. If I hadn't been so cowardly and selfish, I would've spared him from all of this cruelty. I am such a fool."
"No, Kyle. You can't fault yourself for loving him. I didn't want you to do it either, remember?"
"But what kind of parents are we for forcing this life onto him?"
Dora couldn't offer any words. In many ways it seemed that this life was far crueler than the other possibility they'd had. Would they have been more loving parents if they'd given Isaac up? It was a question that no one could answer with certainty.
"The more I think about it and the worse things get here, the more I believe that we were wrong." Kyle buried his head in his hands, feeling completely torn and heartsick. "I should've drowned him."
They heard a faint rustling noise just then and they saw none other than Isaac half hidden behind the corner of the house. He stared at his parents, his blue eyes filled with tears and a little blood still seeping from the cut on his forehead. His expression was a combination of confusion and sorrow, as if his entire world had just fallen apart. As soon as Kyle saw him, he knew that Isaac had overheard what he'd said. The sting of an ultimate betrayal was reflected in his eyes.
"Oh god!" Dora whispered when she spotted him. "Isaac…!" She took a few steps towards him but he backed away, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand and fervently tracing Xs over his heart with the other. He'd already lost the only friends he'd ever had, and now…
Kyle held his breath, unable to believe that this wasn't some horrible nightmare. Why had he said that? What had possessed him to say such a terrible thing out loud for the whole world to hear? Isaac's gaze felt like a knife being driven through his heart.
"Isaac," Dora began very gently, trying to keep her composure. "Please come here, honey. It's all right. Your father didn't mean that—not at all." The blue eyes, looking so hurt and so completely crushed, weren't reassured. He backed away a few more steps and then broke into a dead run, disappearing down the hill.
"Isaac!" his mother called. She started to go after him, but Kyle held her back.
"No, Dora. This is my fault—let me handle it." And he ran off after Isaac. Dora watched him go then leaned against the side of the house and cried.
Isaac wasn't exactly sure where his feet were taking him, nor did he really care. He just wanted to get far away from Vale. Nobody had ever wanted him there and they never would want him there. Even his parents didn't want him! It was too much for a small boy to absorb, and he couldn't understand a bit of it. What had he done wrong? The tears in his eyes blurred his vision, but wiping them away was futile as they regenerated endlessly. The ripping pain in his heart made it impossible to stop that great flood.
He ended up running through the spot where he'd played with Garet and the others and kept going into the woods that surrounded that side of the village. In time, he'd grown too exhausted to go a step further and he collapsed beneath a tree. He curled into a ball and let all the hurt pour out in silent, uncontrollable sobs. The late afternoon sun glowed crimson and began its descent over the western horizon. A chill began to bite the air as the warmth of the rays gradually died away.
After several long moments, Isaac felt something soft bumping against his head. It was the gray tabby cat from town. It had followed him all of this way. Was this the only creature in the world willing to comfort him? Its bright yellow eyes appeared upset at the sight of him crying there all by himself, and it worked itself into his arms and settled there, purring rhythmically. Isaac hugged it as tightly as he dared and cried into the thick, soft fur. One question, which had sat dormant in his mind for much of his short life, suddenly burned through him like hot coals. It begged an answer now more than it ever had before.
Why can't I talk?
He repeated the words over and over in his mind. He wanted nothing more than to be accepted and welcomed in his village, to be loved the same way normal kids like Garet, Jenna and Felix were loved. Why couldn't he just be like everyone else? What had he done to deserve this?
You've done nothing wrong, little one. You were chosen for something great. One day soon you will understand. And one day soon the day will come when the people will understand as well. Then you will be freed from this pain. Have courage, little one. You'll see.
The stars were coming out and Isaac opened his tired eyes. Had he dreamed that voice? There was no one around, but it had seemed so real. And he felt a little better now somehow. The cat was still cuddled against him, its furry body keeping him warm. He sat up and looked around, not recognizing where he was. The air was quite chilly and his stomach was growling. He wanted to go home, though he was unsure if his parents wanted him back or not.
Where should he go then? He rose and started walking slowly through the woods, his feline friend following him closely. It wasn't long before he saw a light in the distance, but closer inspection revealed that it wasn't the village. It was a campfire surrounded by a group of shabbily-dressed men, about ten or fifteen in total. One of them, apparently the leader, was walking around the group as they devoured their food.
"I tell you boys, this job's going to make us rich beyond our wildest dreams! Rumors are that this Vale place is hiding some incredible treasure!"
"So when are we going in, boss?" one of the other men asked.
"Tomorrow night at high moon," was the reply. "Everyone will be asleep and we can sack the place and rob them blind!"
Isaac's eyes went wide. These men were thieves and they were going to rob Vale! For a moment, a nasty thought crossed his mind—that this would serve all of the villagers right after the way they'd treated him. But the thought was fleeting. Vale was his home, as well as his parents' home and his friends' home. He had to get back and warn them somehow.
He started to slowly back away when he accidentally caused a branch to snap. Instantly, the leader of the thieves moved forward and saw him there in the brush. "Well, well, well what do we have here?" he asked. Isaac stared up at him with huge, frightened eyes. He wanted to run but was frozen on the spot. The leader bandit grabbed him firmly by his tunic. "How much did you hear, kid? Speak up?"
This was naturally a request that couldn't be met. The bandit shook him roughly and demanded an answer. When he still didn't get one, he pulled out a knife and stuck it to Isaac's throat. "Won't talk, huh? Well then I'll just have to make sure that you don't rat me out!" The knife pressed further, and then a streak of fur leapt through the air and attacked the man's face with a battle cry. His hands instinctively went to the new obstacle before him, and Isaac ran away as fast as he could, mentally thanking the cat for saving him. "Get that kid!" the leader shouted as he threw the cat aside.
Terrified as he was, Isaac willed himself to not look back and just kept running through the woods, hoping to see some glimpse of Vale through the thick trees. But all he saw was darkness. The heavy footfalls of the men were getting closer. He turned abruptly and plowed through some bushes, not knowing what lay beyond.
The ground beneath his feet gave way and he fell down and down, coming to land in a shallow pool of water. He felt something crack in his left arm and the splintering pain brought tears to his eyes. He had to force himself to rise and take in his surroundings. High above him was a circular view of the night sky, partially masked by rotting boards, a few of which had fallen with him. The water didn't even reach his knees. He was in an old well, long since abandoned and forgotten. He stood there in disbelief, trying to let the situation sink in. The footsteps of the men came closer and then slowly died away. There was only silence.
Isaac sat down in the water, cradling his injured arm, and felt panic rising up within him. The tears came back with a vengeance as he realized he was completely trapped. He couldn't climb out, no one knew where he was, and he couldn't even cry for help. It was cold and dark and he was all alone. Where were his mother and father? He wanted to go home now more than ever.
He heard a faint meow from above and saw two glowing eyes staring back down at him. But even his feline companion couldn't comfort him now. He remained huddled there in the darkness, crying silently and wishing with all his might that somebody, anybody, would find him.
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Oh, I am so dead for leaving off here aren't I? Be rational, people—if you kill me, I can't write Chapter 5!
::Mob of angry reviewers appears brandishing very lethal-looking weapons::
Eeep! Uh…I'm writing, I'm writing! Don't hurt me!