Chapter 7 – How Long is Forever?
'You cheated!'
'You succeeded…'
'You lied!'
'You survived…'
'You failed!'
'You exceeded expectations…'
'You disobeyed orders!'
'You thought for yourself…'
'YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO THINK!'
The voices inside of the Knight's head kept arguing, and both sounded just like it own. The blissful emptiness of the mind was harder and harder to achieve. They were getting louder, getting distracting, ringing inside of its ears. The bug closed its eye and remained still, for a few seconds, to make them go away, before opening it and looking at the table in front of itself. A piece of paper and a quill, with black marks on the surface forming something akin to a drawing. Two figures, one a tall, thin one, made if lines, while the other looked stout and made of ovals and circles. Sharp noses, mandibles, legs… Taking a distinct appearance of two certain bugs. There were a few ruined papers by the Knight's side, filled with scribbles. This one was turning out alright, though. Art relaxed, helped spend time, and served as a cure for one's perpetual loneliness. It also helped the tall bug from looking at the clock, or fighting the voices inside. The only eye looked to the side, before the hand moved again. Instead of using the tiny quill, the Knight dipped the tip of its finger into the ink bottle, and drew the third image on the picture. A very tall image, with long limbs, and a horned head. And a small smile on its face, even if it was not supposed to have one.
It's been three days.
Running the shop was not that hard. Customers were few and far between. Most times, they were expecting the lovely, if somewhat bored, Iselda, instead of the Knight sitting behind the counter, curling and bending over just to fit in. The Geo paid for the wares were kept in a jar, for the owners to find once they would come back. But it was getting late. Dirtmouth's only street was getting empty, with the bugs hiding inside their homes. It was time to close shop. The Knight would take the simple key, and pick up its nail by the scabbard, before walking outside, closing the door behind. The Lumafly lamps shined upon the small town, showering it with its dim, pale light. When other bugs slept, it looked as distant and desolated as it was long before. The tall bug would occupy the iron bench, and turn its head in a single direction, towards the familiar well. In here, it would spend hours, every night. Still as a statue. From time to time, the creature would have company.
"There you are, ser Knight. Back on your watch, are you?"
The Elderbug. Often, it would trudge along, and stay close, sometimes saying very little, if anything at all. The Knight looked at him, briefly, and made a small nod, before turning back, as if afraid to have missed something. But the well remained still, as it always was. The new rope ladder in place of the old, broken chain moving ever so slightly in the wind. Dust breezing across the road leading to it.
"Oh, don't mind me. I am just an old bug. Sleep does very little for me these days. But you? You remind me of another bug that traveled these parts. Small one, restless, and, like you, not much for erm… conversation. But also very, very kind."
The older bug's voice trembled, at those last words. It made the Knight look at them, briefly. Even seated, the creature was still taller than the Elderbug, who looked into the distance, somewhat wistfully. 'Sounds like a good bug…' – it thought, the only eye shifting down briefly. A familiar ache appearing in its chest.
"Always paid attention and showed gratitude for my advice, as superficial as it was… Kept me company back when ol' Dirtmouth was at its loneliest. It has been a while since I've seen them, too… They gave me this, before leaving for the last time…"
With that, the old bug removed the draping of its cloak, and another light shined upon them. The Knight's eye widened, as it looked upon a delicate, pale flower. It looked so … fragile. As if any careless movement would harm it. Its petals moved slightly in the breeze blowing through the town, making the Elderbug rise the side if its cloak again, to protect it. The Knight rose its hand, briefly, as if wanting to touch it, but realizing how clumsy its fingers must have been, instead it cupped the hand around the flower from the side, to help protect it that way. For a few moments, the two would just stare at it, in wonder.
"Town's much more crowded now than it used to be. People started coming back to the village about the same time my little friend left. But… I still hope to see them, some day. This flower is a memory."
A memory… Something to remember them by…
The Knight's shoulders drooped a little. It had nothing to leave, or to give. Without a token, would people remember? Or would it be erased from their memories and minds, just like its own was? A few more moments were passed in silence. Thoughts started appearing inside that white, horned head, as the creature turned away from the flower, and looked towards the well.
Maybe if I do good, like the little bug, they will remember me, too…
"Are you waiting for Iselda and Cornifer?" - the Elderbug suddenly broke the silence. When mentioning them, the Knight's shoulders drooped a bit lower. It made a small nod. "The stout cartographer has a habit of going into those dreadful old ruins below. Sometimes, he would go missing for weeks! Making his wife all worried. But she is strong, that one. When the two first came to Dirtmouth, she carried a sharp nail with her. Much more… warrior-like. They will be back, eventually. With the yellow sickness gone, there's very little of danger left down below."
The Knight nodded, but did not retract its hopeful gaze from the well. Its back straightening up every time it thought the ladder shifted and moved. But there was nothing. The creature would stay up, past midnight, past when the elder bug would stand up and trudge back towards one of the huts. Leaving one to stare into the abyss alone. At times, it would seem that the darkness above the well seemed thicker, somehow. One was getting sleepy, no doubt. Then, it would seem that it was taking shape and form. It was quite late, after all. The Knight blinked a few times, trying to keep oneself awake. The dark silhouette above the well did not vanish, hanging over it like a shadow. It hovered closer and closer, and one by one, the light of the Lumaflies was becoming dimmer.
'Am I dreaming…' – the Knight wondered, as its body felt sluggish, almost paralyzed. Its hand moving towards the blade strapped on its hilt. Pulling it out, a few inches. The shadow drew closer, and … stopped. Confused, the creature tried to shake off the sleepiness, and stand up from the bench. The shadow stood still, much smaller than the Knight, and yet the taller bug knew it was being watched. Suddenly, their gazes met, as two bright white eyes opened on the being's face.
SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!