…
Hugs.
Hugs bring relief to anxious hearts. That's what my brother told me, following a hug.
One hug is enough. Coming from a person in flesh, or a pillow of feathers. There are so many pillows near me… One to hug, another to lay my head upon, and one more to cover my head.
Damn mosquitoes. I hear thunder from outside. So loud, I must have hit a tree nearby. I'm not scared, no, I'm not…
Mom.
I've found an anthill under my bed. Bad signs, bad thoughts. The ants, like the worms, rule the planet from within. Within earth… is that where you are, mom?…
Whenever I hugged my mother, she felt better. It was my very way of saying 'welcome back!' with open arms. Inside that cold and frightening armor, I knew mom was there. She would take off her armor so I wouldn't feel cold as I layed on her chest. I'd listen to her heart, knowing it ain't a monster who came home to devour me.
Just mom.
Whenever mom heard my voice, I swear, a single cackle of mine lightened her mood and softened those heavy steps. To make mom smile was the closest thing I ever had to seeing the sun shine. Dad used to make mom smile. Soften her steps. I miss him too…
Any child deserves a father and a mother. They need to know they are not alone.
I'm not alone…
…
A-ha - Out Of The Blue Comes Green
July 20th, 1778
…
Here I am, having a traditional Burmecian breakfast. A chai with milk and cinnamon served in a teapot made of a dragon's wisdom tooth, cookies stuffed with frog eggs instead of chocolate drops, cheese with maggots… yeah, these. Burmecia's finest delicacy, or so it used to be. Like, imagine borrowing a poison at home for your kids to eat. Mom changed the recipe for earthworms, so it's fine to be eaten. Yeah, fine, if you don't bother carrying on a rotten scent in your mouth. Whatever, I never kissed anyone, not that I ever mind.
… My dad used to think a lot.
He sat on this chair, looked at the window and the world outside, as if there was more to see than a tree, or a garden, or someone walking nearby. Someone like me, trying to find some friends other than the jerk of my brother. Jack ain't quite a jerk anymore, he grew up and has a job, a wife, a child… just like father. He was a weird person. Barely talked to me, or mom, just stared at us as if he was trying to find what we had that he did not have anymore. He didn't even talk to Hrist, though my father considered having a third son. A fourth, fifth, as much as he and mom could handle.
Imagine having to take care of Sophie, Phoebe, Irma, Celeste and Esme. The Spice girls. Or Freya Jr., as Jack suggested. If I happen to be a mother one day, that'll be the last name on my child's list. To call someone 'Junior' feels so out of personality, you're just saying your kid is like you. A clone of you, which they aren't. Did I just think about having kids and which names to choose? Because… let's just say that I'm not active when it comes to having a romantic life. I have myself.
Yeah, I don't need to tell myself to know. In a land that rains eternally, our hands are always clean. Gee, I feel so awkward having these thoughts… morning thoughts, so don't worry. Awkward would be someone else hearing about these. About what? Your stagnant life of coloured kisses? Let's forget about it for a moment, shall we?
I have responsibilities. I have to attend school at will. I can do it anytime, that's what makes it so, so… do they expect me to go to the Jugend all day? Well, Saturdays and Sundays are out of my list. Friday afternoon as well. Wait, wasn't Saturday yesterday? So, today is Sunday, and I'm willing to go to school. On Sunday. Whatever… Alexandrians be damned for making Sunday a boring day of prayers and rest.
I woke up hearing the church's bells, as my father used to. He didn't hear the Lord's bells, though. The expression on his face was of someone tired, haggard and dejected by his own thoughts. It was painful, because the very reason he was insular and reflective was in his head. "It's scary to be forgotten because of the painful, continuous thinking", he said, and I always translated as "To be forgotten is worse than Death."
Don't know, the latter's quote doesn't hold the same impact as the first one, because right now I'm thinking and it's painful.
You can't enjoy a single moment in your life that your head says 'one day you'll die', like all you did before and all you do right now is so useless. I hate having this to be the only certainty in my life, when all I want is to be sure if I'll pass the training, if I'll learn regeneration (it's about time), and if I'll live this day the best I can. Could you believe that this will be the only July 20th, 1778 to ever happen? It won't happen again…
… I'll be the first Burmecian to say fuck, how's that? Yeah, you heard that, idiot mind. I haven't thought about the possibility of swearing at home, it just came right through. I had no plans, just did it so. Better not say it again until my arm gets ripped or something tragic happens. I'd just stay in silence, swear in silence… I could not even say inferno on this table, even though it's a common word to describe flames.
What's so wrong about saying a word like hell? Has anyone ever been in the fire and brimstone realm and came back to tell how it looked? Well, I could swear as much as I wanted, as long as I did it in silence. It's not polite to speak open-mouthed, you know. To say disgrace, that was the nadir of all swearings. "To disgrace someone", mother said, "It means to take away that person's divine blessing, and you don't do it. Not because it's right or wrong, but you just don't take away something that important", and she had no words to describe how the lack of divine blessing affected one's being.
Careful with what you say, or don't say… is that why father stood all quiet? Because he had something to say, but never had time, will or excuse enough to say so? It was like watching a man be tortured by his own thoughts, and by the world around. Was I responsible for his torture as well? Everytime I asked to ride on his back, to play tag and musical chairs, I was so happy, but at what cost?
… Knock Knock Knock!...
— Hello!? Is anyone out there? – I hear knocks by the door, followed by Jack's muffled voice.
— Nobody home. – I said, leaving the house.
— Hey, sis! Doing fine?… – I wasn't expecting Jack's visit.
— Not so much. – Neither I am in a hurry, but I am really not in the mood to talk.
— Is something bothering you? Because you didn't say 'hello' back, or even 'good morning', or 'hi, Jack'.
— … Good morning. Satisfied?
— Gee, sis. Have you drank cold coffee? Look, if there's something bothering you, tell me. You can't just keep it all inside, or else you'll feel worse. Like puke… you can't just, eh, hold the nasty stuff inside. It's awful for ya.
— Sure it is. – I said, thinking about how Jack is not subtle with comparisons, but he does care about how I feel today.
— Uh, have I told you about Freyr? These days, he wasn't feeling alright. He cried and cried all day long, I didn't know what was happening. Ottis has more experience with kids, and unfortunately, she wasn't at home. But life works in mysterious ways, sis. One day you're sad and want it all to end, while other days you're so happy you don't even notice the day turned to night.
— So… the point? What is it? – I could just say no to Jack. But instead, as good a listener as I am, I have no options.
— Oh, well… Freyr felt so bad, his tummy hurted, he didn't listen to my lullabies, ignored me like I was not even there, like… like he felt so much pain nothing else really mattered for him. At that age, can you believe it? I thought for a moment there would be no solution for him, and right when Freyr puked all over me… he felt better. I too would feel a lot better, had I taken that green muddy smile out of me.
— … Am I supposed to learn a lesson out of it? – Do not eat bad food, perhaps? I mean, is there a way to know how much of something is needed to make you feel bad?
— I suppose I am the one who learned something. It ain't anything new or extraordinary, sis. Just what mom told us since little: "We do feel what the others feel, even if we are not that person".
— Live and learn, then learn again and you live again. – I guess? Sometimes I wish I could stop thinking, not every single bit of our lives is meant for further reflection.
— I'd say so. – But yeah, Jack, like me, happens to be my father's son. – Weird, isn't it? Our entire lifes we're told that we are unique, one in a million, but when one of these millions gets hurt, I feel their hurt. I can't just avoid it, turn it off.
— It's what it means to put yourself at another's place.
— Yes, but why do we do it? Why do we cry when someone else cries too? Why do we laugh when someone laughs too? If we are ourselves, doesn't that mean we just need ourselves?
— We sure need our own identity, it's what makes us unique at all. That does not mean we can be alone, though. – I said, reaching to the limits between the verdant meadows I was raised as a kid, and the gray liveless city of stone known as Burmecia. The one Burmecia known by the world outside.
— Do you feel alone, sis? – I knew Jack would ask it.
— Not at all. – It's what I say all the time. – Jack… have you any idea what happens inside when you find out you're not the exact same person you thought you were before? I do.
— It happens. I too felt these changes within and outside of me, Freya. They still happen a while and another, but that's what life's made of. At least one of the many aspects life is made of, or else you'll get bored, with the feeling that nothing is happening while pretty much is.
And to think there are people who just turn themselves off from the rest. I wouldn't call these by 'people'. I heard rumours about a murderer with odd methods. Heard it out of Sir Fratley. Not that I really care, this has nothing to do with me but somehow, it affects me. Given how life and coincidence works…
— When we are kids, we don't care whether we're running or not. – Said Jack. An empty street is in front of us. What a rare sight… – As we grow up, they look at us and we feel ashamed of doing whatever we feel like, even if it's not wrong to run. It's like people are judging us all the time.
— Not wrong, huh?
— Yeah. Wait… you thought the same thing I did? – Perhaps I did, Jack.
— Shall we? – That's one thing I haven't tried in ages…
— Do the honors. – He knows it, so do I. The Crescent family's secret technique. For it to work, I'll be using my legs. – Are you ready?
— Ready. – Like my mother once told me… Bend over, touch your toes, relax, and run! – LET'S BEAT IT! Move, rubbernecks!
— Run, Crescent! RUN!
