U2 - An Cat Dubh/Into The Heart
July 05, 1778
...
Funny how I am rather impressed about the way Lennie insists to act like mother used to do.
I woke up earlier this morning, not that I wanted to, but the pressure of morning inside me told it so. After squeezing the lemon out of my vein, I came to the bed to sleep once again, and I holded of my pillow until I heard of a delightful voice, the same who told me a lullaby yesterday, who also pulled me out of the bed, whom Lennie had covered with an extra blanket later that night, for so I could sleep well.
For breakfast, I had been feeded by bread, milk and I even enjoyed the taste of oats in my mouth; when I was about to go outside, Lennie holded of my hand, as we walked up in the stairways, and so she changed my clothes, although they do look like the same as yesterday, except that they had been washed and put all together in the cloth line, who hangs outside my house as much as a tree and something Lennie calls by kailyard also lies there. Although the rain waters a bit of our clothes hanging in that cord, they would be watered anyway, but somehow, they sure went dry in there, maybe due to the wind.
She also tightened my loose ribbon, not so much to prevent a later gangrene, and sudden decay of my dead tail. I never saw it happen with my both eyes, but imagination deserves praise to create such an image. And, like any mother does, Lennie told me to not talk with, follow or believe in strangers. By stranger, she refers to anyone else, besides me. No, I don't think so, because everyone would be a stranger, even my cousin Dan, or my dear Fratley. I guess they aren't strangers anymore, since Lennie knows about them, or better, their moms.
If so, that's fine for us. I am currently heading to somewhere else; just wandering here, there, up, down, left, right... I know there won't be strangers to be afraid of anywhere I go, since other people who Lennie knows are keeping an eye on me, and us as well. When I used to head to Dan's house, his mother kept an eye on both of us, if not the older brother of his. However, Lennie didn't say anything about these men who wear such armors. Not Dragoon Knights, but officers of the King, members of the Royal Guard, who had been walking around the kingdom these days.
They had been interrogating us, kids, recently. I came across five of them since now, and they all asked the same question, and if I recall, it was something alike: 'Do you think those who passed away come back to life?', or so do I remember, this before I struck with another one of these guys, interrogating another child as well. Unlike other adults, they aren't strangers to be afraid of, but to be trusted instead.
They are Royal Guards anyway, followers of a code, unlike many of us. I do follow a code as well, though I do not seem to be a kind of help for those who need a hand. These adults think we are the helpless ones, after all we had been through. We even had been born as helpless people, to be taken care by their arms, until we could hold onto anything else with ours, besides themselves. This doesn't only apply on our arms and only, but the entirety of us.
Before I went in there, I saw a couple and a baby in the arms of the woman, presumably his mother, or so he and everyone else had been told off. They, counting the presumed father, or the male hanging with that lady, forcibly trying to make that infant, younger than an infant who learned to walk, and talk as result, to speak 'mama' out of his throat, made to digest his mother's milk primarily. I may be a bit jealous, though. Either due to that mother, who resembled the one I had, in a way, or mostly because that baby and his mother had a father and a husband to share with, a few of a kind who stood in these lands.
Now, back to the 'yes' game, since no children until now uttered a single 'no', a Royal Guard stood before a child I knew, though the hat of his was gone. It was Fratley, who stumbled across the same guard, who asked him the question I had been told to answer before.
Dan also came up across a guard like that one, or so he said when I came across his as well. His father, uncle Clyde, was also a member of the Royal Guard, before he became a baker, and that sounds silly, or either smarter than I might be able to understand.
Either way, I wasn't, and still I am not interested to talk or play with his, I just want to be on my own, but there's no such a thing as 'own' in a kingdom of roads connected to houses, and friends connected to other friends, like a tree share of twigs, leaves, sometimes flowers, fruits, seeds... and so it goes on, like how Gappy's teeth keep falling each day, less than mine.
My tooth fell yesterday, so I had put it under my pillow. Dan also did the same, as he said to me he expected to see that bastard mouse come up and take that tooth of his, but before he could see anything, he fell asleep. It wasn't the first time Dan did such a thing. I also did the same, but I felt asleep too. It must have been a kind of sleep potion or the darkness that closed both eyes of mine later that night, or maybe it was Lennie, who had blown that candle, after a kiss on my forehead, a cold kiss, unlike the bed I stood in, unlike the bed my brother resides in.
When I woke up, it was gone, from my mouth, and from my sight, unlike Lennie, who was there, telling me to get up, and so I did. Before, she used to tell me to get up as well, but on another tone, of distress, and those eyelashes kinda made me get up as soon as possible, together with that curve on her mouth, and those arms freed of being crossed, as if they were about to slap my butt, unlike this morning, when those arms were crossed on her chest, a huge chest by now.
...
I woke up earlier this morning, a cold day outside this blurred window, once smudged by my own breath, who I used to clean, or diminish the dirt brought by the air, if there's such.
The more I clean, the more this window gets blurry, though I can see what happens outside on either way. Rain, and its people, who travel across many lengths, in the same way rain keeps pouring down from the highest heights, beneath the clouds, who either stay still, or move slowly as others, alike the kids and the adults who follow, or try so, of the little ones.
At least, I can distinguish both with my eyes, suffering of restless blinks, and each moment I see the darkness, or the crimson that comes on each night, when I close my eyes looking at the candle, I might want to lay down on this same bed, on same way as I did yesterday, though I may be able to sleep, unlike before.
The veins I see into the mirror, red unlike the blueish ones belonging to these legs, as I can see with the gaiters off, and this right arm, crushed by the pillow of feathers and this head who attempted to rest, alike these both feet, who lured the rhythm and heat of a tribal dance, who I pleasantly agreed to be done, even if such had taken away my sleep, but not my comfort on bed, although these strands of a messed white hair, once wrapped into my neck like tendrils, said otherwise, as they usually do when not brushed to my back, where their tip might tickle, but a tickle is less than a discomfort I usually felt these days, or nights.
Yet, unlike many of my parts, my head seems backwards, because it doesn't feel anything of the morning addiction that strikes each one who had ever gotten a living being in the chest once. Mostly they speak of nauseas, although my mouth is dry, unlike the toilet I filled in later that night, same night I tried to sleep in, unlike you there. These and other disorders told me, and now their aftermath came for me to realize that I must rest, but I cannot sleep, even if I and my body kinda want to, telling me to go to bed in ways more exclusive than singles, and spontaneous yawns.
My flaccid ears, once crestfallen as this chin, who felt when I took a look at the nails of my feet, lifted up, as that spear used to remain so, not hanging on the wall, but in this left hand, the hand that used to argue those who felt with a single touch. Same could be said to Bart, as a whole. Whenever I felt he was there to give me a hand of support, as much as I did used to be a support of this Kingdom, but now, it seems I must be the support for the one whom I had given of such, yet not enough.
Forget about funny cravings, Lenneth, since the bad aftertaste still persists deep into your throat, tasteless for anything else. Remember when you were afraid of doors, that seemed to be about to hit your stomach in any moment, of the weight of your family duty as a Dragoon Knight, stood on what once was the coat of arms you wore in the chest, seemingly about to collapse and expurge of a life like a butcher's knife?
My future seemed static, as now, like the position I stood on same static bed, same bed I decided to lie for a while once again, same bed I used, and still I do, lie in both ways. 'Don't worry', these were his drooling words, soft as the pillow my head is lying above, and the other pillow I'm holding tightly, alike how Bart used to hold me, into the nights, or in mornings like this one.
Unlike this pillow, he whispered to my both ears, sounding alike my own thoughts, as he looked at me in the eye, to later be kissing my innermost lips of love, same love he shared when touching upon my hand, comfortably caressing with his fingers, until they got to hold the entirety of my palm, our fists kept close, alike how men treat each other by pulling fists to be able to harm each other.
Bart would never harm me, yet a pleasant harm was delivered by his touch, by his closure, and by the trust I had of his, more important than his trust in me. Over the edge, the red of the Crescent blood didn't matter, for the first time, or when mean seasons arrived, or used to. That thing screamed, as I screamed as well, nailed on the same bed. Tears belonged to cries, I thought, as that thing kept screaming, like his flesh was set ablaze by the cold of her outside.
The contact of the Cleyran nursemaid's hands, who once touched of dry sand to watery skins, wasn't enough for that thing to stop throwing tantrums, even on such age, if there was piece of navel string still belonging to his would rotten in a few days, unlike his mother, luckily well, as you can see, or will see one of these days, alike how Jack opened his eyes to me, that morning, and this morning as well.
...
I looked up at Lennie's eyelashes today, and only with them, I could deduce how she had changed, or how I changed, soft as a pillow. Those eyes shared the same concern as the day before, as if she was about to cry, or as if she had already shed a tear, away from my sight, daddy's sight. Well, an eye-mote also makes people cry as well.
Speaking about tears, mostly these children who were interrogated cried as well. Seemingly, by result, most of them said a single 'yes', some took a while to say something, that ended up with a 'yes', followed by 'please', and often a tantrum, that resulted in a tear to be shed, in both eyes and pants. I said 'yes' too, though. Just a single 'yes', and nothing else, and I don't recall ever seeing someone saying 'no', but I guess that there's always a head backwards, like Fratley.
— I'll only answer to you if you take that hat up there. – Before an answer could be given to that guard, another was delivered by Fratley.
It wasn't the kind of answer that I do often hear, or heard about, or a type of answer that you may expect someone to utter. I may agree that most of us lose many things, like hats, yet there's always a place to wonder where such objects have been lost. I wonder how Fratley's hat went in there, atop that tree, judging the size of that tree, and that kid; between a nail and a drawing pin, same could be said to his and that guard's height, and me as well.
— Can't you take that hat by yourself, kid? – The guard seemed to be not so full of patience that day. They never appear to be patient anyway; however, that's part of their duty to be able to help the helpless ones, same rule for the Dragoon Knights to obey.
About that hat, whom the tree holded on its twigs, I could perceive that same question of mine, who still wondered how that hat supposedly came there, had been briefly struck into the mind of that guard, or so I could see in his face, barely due to that iron helm of his. Maybe a throw wasn't enough, judging the size of Fratley as a whole, more than the arms of his, but kids can do anything, and I am such proof. But I ain't Fratley, yet I wished I could be, in a way.
— I'm afraid of heights. – He said, and what else would he say? If I had that height, I would fear heights as well, although ants, who are smaller than his, do not care about heights. Well, what else would the tall guard do, other than take that kid's hat?
Either way, as the guard climbed up that tree, like an ant in search of a leaf, whose tree used to share of many, I came near Fratley, who didn't even noticed me, well, he sure did, with a quick gaze, and a smirk too, both who later paid fully attention to the guard, above us. For some reason, when the guard reached that twig, that hat suddenly moved, but maybe it was just the wind, or so I may agree. Fratley didn't even bother, as I did otherwise.
— Here, take it. – The guard said, after he threw that hat from the highest spot where he could be standing, atop that tree. Instead of Fratley, I was the one who took the hat. Not that I had been mistaken by him, but anyway, I am a kid as well, and also someone else who was there to take that hat, if Fratley couldn't.
A matter of luck, to be said. Then, the guard and his claws gathered closer to the trunk, where they once had been to climb up that tree, but now they were being used to do the opposite. After he came down, to stand before us, into the tree or not, he demanded an answer for his question, or so other guards had done before.
— Now, would you care to answer me this: Do you believe that someone who passed away will come back to life? – He asked Fratley this time.
Maybe he wanted to ask the same for me as well, but by hearing the words of his, I could only presume that the question had been directed by one of us, and since I had answered such before, and since it was Fratley who had struck with this guard before I did, then I can only say that it was him who needed to answer the question. He sure is taking some time to say something, doesn't he?
— You mean... if someone who had died will come back alive? – Fratley asked, in a way more clever than the guard could be. They all had asked to us the same question, not even mentioning the word 'death', but a single 'pass away'; well, sure I and Dan had taught those Basilisks to easily pass away, as easy as it is to fool a child, other than a kind of me, to say so.
— Yes, that's the question: If someone who passed away will be alive once again, yes or no? – At this moment, I already had said 'yes', like Dan said too, although I am convinced that I just said a single 'yes', only so that the conversation between me and the guard would be over already. I mean, besides answering this exact question, I had been interrogated to answer many questions beyond a single 'yes' or 'no' choice, like when I said my name was Jack, and still is, the guard asked my surname as well, or 'Jack of what', as he clearly said.
I took a time to answer that, this until he took the ribbon Lennie tied into me, only to see half of her name inscribed at the tip of my tail, or so that guard did with a hundred of Jacks, if there's such also asked me if I wanted to be a Dragoon Knight, alike how mother was once, and I said nothing instead, but a 'maybe'.
Instead of answering the guard, Fratley just stared to his face, like someone would do on a conversation, however no words had been spoken yet. Only thoughts, but these can only be shared to ourselves.
He may be thinking about delivering the answer only at this moment, since he was occupied and concerned about that hat who stood in that tree more than the question brought in by the guard, only awaiting for him to say something, and more than my presence as well, as I am only perceived by his look because of the hat I'm still holding with both hands.
— Uh... well... Mister... What should I say? – And why do you ask?
— Just say what you believe to be the rightful answer.
— But... I can't lie, can I? – Do you lie? 'The children who lie won't go to paradise', or so the rhyme says. Just answer the guard, my dear Fratley.
— I'll know if you're lying, or not.
— But what if I convince you so much of a lie that you may agree to be the truth?
— Not that I'm not prepared, but... I had been trying to find some bugs, you see. – That's enough. I'm tired of holding this hat, as much as I am tired of standing in there, as much as I expect something-AAAAH!...
No, not this.
A single butterfly, before a crowd, came from underneath the hat of his. What a silly thing to be afraid of... what the heck!? Butterflies, in the rain? No, under the hat? Oh, now I see. Maybe those butterflies had been caught by Fratley, by the hat of his, instead of a net, or an empty jelly jar, or whatever comes to mind, even a hat may work, and sure did. They must have been gathered by his, and then, they tried to escape, by flying somewhere else.
But how the hell could they fly into that tree, anyway? I don't know, yet I wanna. Maybe they didn't, since it's raining, and butterflies can't fly into the rain, unlike birds, only if the rain is smooth, falling into little bits onto us, like when its drizzling, or used so. Smooth or not, butterflies can't cross the field of rain, as the drops of water from the skies could kill them, or so their fragile body says to me. I am made of bones, so wherever it rains, there's no chance for my bones to be broken, although a tumble may be enough for my bones to be gone, this only if I get old enough than I am already, or maybe older than Lennie.
Funny... these butterflies, who are now standing in hiding into some flowers near me, so quiet they had beTence before, I would say that they were dead, and that sure sounds like another reason why Fratley didn't take the hat of his, when such had gotten upon that tree. Try to think about the shock... I can, because it happened to me once. Not with butterflies, but frogs, or so they were meant to be ones.
I once had gotten a bunch of tadpoles from daddy, who had put them in a jar of glass, same where he used to put the jelly my mother used to make. I, who forgives myself until this day, had mistakenly put that jar inside the dark cabinet of the kitchen, and on the next day, as I woke up to have of a good breakfast, prepared by daddy, I remembered that I had put the tadpoles inside same cabinet I say, and when daddy opened it, we saw with our both eyes that they were all dead.
But now I agree that they would die anyway, if stood on the marsh full of pikes where daddy found then, and even if they turned into frogs, I wonder how they would end up, after I had successfully put one of them inside the pants of someone else, like Dan, or maybe Lennie. Whereas Dan would be pissed, yet our cordiality still remained after, Lennie would do more than press one of my ears, until they turned red, but split to my daddy as well; however, she seems to have no such force to do it so, not because daddy isn't here, but also because of my brother, still inside her, unlike me.
Well, after all this time, he didn't answer yet. How much longer should I wait for him to speak? Oddly enough, Fratley doesn't seem to avert the fact that death should come, yet the guard who is still awaiting for the same answer just stands there, to calm whenever someone cries, as another kid had done, or to interact with the one whom he demanded an answer from.
— ...Spiders aren't insects either, neither lices... – Or so Fratley said. I don't recall him ever saying such a thing.
The guard in front of him, erect like a spear, wasn't paying that kind of attention either, yet I could see him listening to that kid. I was listening to him as well, still I am, but I can only hear bits of his voice. It just keeps going on, and on, although that's the intention of the guard, who wants the conversation between his and that kid, as one did with me, and Dan as well, to flow naturally, to not be forced.
After all, Fratley had been told to tell the truth, or so the truth his father spoke to his once. 'They' are, still, talking about armadillo bugs, or woodlouses, those kinds of bugs that can be found below a rock, or rotten trunks too, and when you touch them, they cover themselves like a ball, like an armadillo does as well.
Interesting... the guard, like them all, had been acting naturally, like our fathers used to do so well. I wonder if these guards have kids as well. Maybe his sons could be my friends, maybe the guard could be my friend, as they insist on being in the conversations I had, five for me in total, but if this guard, like many, sure was a friend of mine, I would call him by the name, instead of calling him by guard. Or Mister, as Fratley used to direct him.
— ...don't you think that bugs are fascinating, Mister?
— Yeah, they sure are... – The guard, unlike Fratley, seemed tired of the conversation, or in a few other words, tired of the listening his ears had been enduring all this time, and I wonder which time is it, and how long such passed since that moment. Five minutes, maybe the double, who cares anyway...
— I agree too! Daddy and I used to catch some butterflies... – Compared to the guard, and me in a way, Fratley had a taste for conversation, even if he was talking by himself all along, yet he wanted to endure the same conversation as long as he, or his stirring limbs, could. I guess you don't even need to pay attention to your own words, or your body, if you want to talk with someone. – I once ate purple like grape corn for breakfast...
— ...Purple corn? And how did you got to eat such?
— Daddy brought it from the hills...
— Your father seems to be an important person to you...
— He is important to mommy as well, as much as she is important to me, and my brothers too.
— And do you agree with this distance kept between you, and your father?...
— ...
— ...So, you disagree?...
— ...
— ...Do you wish your father would come back soon?...
— ...
From that moment onwards, the guard had opened his lips, as Fratley recused of his ones. He just looked somewhere else, other than the guard's face, purposefully avoided the questions brought by the guard. Not only he did brought the look of his to another direction, other than the grounds below his feet, the grass where his feet once stood, that same tree where his hat once stood, whom he took from my arms who holded of them, for some unknown reason, and wore on that face of his, who expressed such nothing unlike before.
No hearing, no breathing, no movement, no colors... just silence, although the rain, and the guard, said otherwise. So Fratley hid his face, alike how a turtle shrinks like a cicada to inside its shield, with that hat, green unlike the color of the blood, and hair as well, with those familiar strands. He tried to close his eyes as well, but the utmost he could was to blink, to briefly see the dark red of the lids shut.
So, Fratley just stood quiet, as much as I. However, it seems that he couldn't stand it, as much as he couldn't deliver an answer, or answers as it turned out to be. He doesn't seem to be the kind who prefers to talk by himself, in thoughts, but the one who likes to share his words to others, and hear of their words as well, even if they turn out to be a mere few words, but words in a way.
— ...Mister... – Well, he gave up from that silence of before, at the moment he said a single word, and I, as much as the guard, could hear it as well – About my daddy...
— What's it? So... shall it be a 'yes'?
— No... A yes, or no... maybe both. I... I don't know. I may be lying to you, Mister, if I had chosen a 'yes'. Daddy... Even if he comes back, so... I know he's doing his best, but... Of course I want him to come back, everyone does want... But daddy, he'll die anyway, Mister. And I don't know for sure if the dead come alive, but I kinda wanted to see if they do. Like... would I come back if I had been dead? I am alive, am I? So... I want daddy to be back, as soon as possible, like my brothers and mommy too, and that's fine, a wish or not.
— Okay then. – And so, the guard just turned his back to us, and left. He would left this place anyway, since there's many to be asked of his question around the kingdom.
I don't even know if the guard just left because he was bored enough already, or if he needed to ask other children. He didn't even ask me the question, maybe because I did it already, or maybe his patience regarding the Fratley nearby mine was gone.
Fratley had a kind of difficulty to answer a 'yes', or 'no', and I don't even know if he did answer the questions brought by the guard, or if he had listened to then. But eyes can't listen, since we share both ears to do so, so I guess he did listen to his words, and also spoke of his own words, even with the eyes away.
At least, he tried to answer on his way, instead of giving a single 'yes', as much as I, like many, did, only to see things wash away as soon as possible. Even when abruptly ignored by that back, one of many, Fratley looked at that guard from a distance, and a sort of reminiscence, or so I could see similar things as well, came to his eyes, and his whole as well.
Now he moved those limbs like he usually did, not that he seemed to control them, as much as he couldn't control that appetite for a conversation. Even when not engaging in a small talk, at the moment I am looking at Fratley, describing him, creating an image of him based on his habits, it's like I'm talking to him, and the same goes for Frattie as well. If I, at least, could do the same for Lennie, or, should I have said times ago, mother...
...