Child of Light
The first thing he could remember was light. Muted and gray, filtering through equally gray trees. Sometimes the light swayed when the branches of the trees shifted, and Yuri always wondered what caused it. He had no sense of the wind, as the wind never touched him. He had no sense of the warmth that came from the sun, as the heat could not reach him. All he knew was the monochrome, soundless world he saw from his perfectly circular patch of green, outlined in mushrooms. Mushrooms far too white and clean to be normal.
What did a tree feel like? Was it soft like the grass beneath his feet? Rough like the dirt around the grass? Squishy like the mushrooms that kept Yuri safe inside? He wanted to know...he wanted to see. Why was everything so gray? Why did the green of the grass not pass the mushrooms? Why couldn't he pass the mushrooms? He wanted to go. He wanted to play. He had wings that shimmered, but he knew not if he could fly. He didn't know how. He was never told. What did the world sound like? Did it have a sound? He didn't know. The only time there was ever anything besides silence was when he made sound. When he spoke. When he moved. When he cried. He was the only one able to make sound. He knew, because once he'd seen things besides the trees. Once he'd seen the wingless. It was early in his memories, and they never noticed him. But they also never made noise. Why didn't their footsteps make noise when they stomped on the ground? When he stomped, he could hear a little thud. What were they wearing on their feet? Why were they wearing things on their feet? Did your wings fall off once you were older, or if you left the circle? Why were they so dark and their hair as black as night? Did they rub the dirt on themselves to do that? Yuri tried that once...to darken his milky skin and flaxen hair, but it didn't change his colors. It just made him dirty.
Why was he here? He wondered that often. He had nothing to do. Nobody to talk to. How long was he here for? His body had changed since he could first remember. His fingers were once stubby, but now they were longer. His hair was once short and close to his head, but now it stretched towards his chin. His legs once wobbled beneath him, but now he could jump from one end of the ring of fungi to the other. He wondered if that brief moment in the air was what it felt like to fly. Yuri started to jump through the air often. To twirl. To dance. Dancing was all he had. There was nothing but silence, gray, and dancing. When he finished dancing, he would cry. Yuri didn't know why. He didn't like crying. It made him angry at himself...and that just made him cry more.
What was the point? He couldn't end this. He didn't know how. He wanted something different to happen. He hadn't seen the wingless since he was still stubby. Did the wingless really exist, or did he make them up? He couldn't remember. When he was little, he had loved that his patch of life was so colorful. The monochrome world around him had scared him. But now he was so desperate to stand in the gray scale. He wouldn't care if he lost his colors or his wings...please, if he could only step outside the circle. He'd give anything. Even if it would end his existence, he would do it. Just for a taste of it. The other side.
How does one attract another? The world was so still. The only thing to ever draw attention was the shifting branches. Could Yuri draw attention in the same way? The longer his hair grew, the more it would move and shimmer with his movements, just like the branches of the trees. Would someone see him if he swayed and shifted too? Just one other would be fine. Anyone. Someone to come over and see him. Just for a bit.
Yuri danced from dawn til dusk within the fairy ring. Sometimes he'd even dance through the night. Every day, he danced and pleaded for someone to notice. To see. To come. Please. Just for a little while. He silently begged as his legs flew through the air. His hair reached past his shoulders now and started down his back, getting so long that he learned to tie it up in twists so it would stop tangling and falling in his face. His tears dried up. His limbs grew longer. His movements were more fluid and graceful. His dancing was more beautiful. Still nobody came. Still Yuri danced. It was all he had. All he could do. He would not give up. No matter how much he ached inside his chest as each day passed, unchanging; each day without anyone but himself. No matter how much this patch of green that was his started to blend with the grayness that was the empty world. Yuri danced.