Post by Avaarah on Aug 25, 2011 12:17:22 GMT -5
“Ten years hence from this day you will not be here.”
“And where will I be, little one?”
“You’ll be dead. Cold. On the ground. And oh so pale.”
Fear had gripped her features, and yet I was far too young to know of what I spoke, nor did I have the control to stop myself from speaking such things. I heard the gasp of surprise and looked up at the withered old face and kindly blue eyes. There were tears in them.
“Do you know who I am, child?” her voice was much younger than her appearance; she couldn’t have been more than forty, but hard years on the streets had added lines that should not be there. But I was a child then and did not know such things nor did I care.
I shook my head ‘no’ to her question. She held her hand out to me and nodded towards the end of the street. The end of East Borough, as I would come to know it. “Come with me. I will take care of you child. You need someone to take care of you, no?”
I thought about that a moment. But I was very, very young, and serious thoughts of someone taking care of me did not really exist. It was just assumed. If I was hungry there had to be someone there to feed me, didn’t there? If I was scared I could run into someone’s arms for comfort, couldn’t I? There was someone once. Before the kind and doomed lady I had come to know as Momma Rat. I knew her at the time, this person from before. But she had gone away. So I nodded and took the lady’s hand and she led me away…
I awoke in a sweat. Something dripped on my forehead; rain. Another leak in this already crumbling house. Winter was coming and the rain felt like ice on my skin. But I did not move. The sun had not risen yet; rather the eerie blue of twilight filtered through the small window and torn curtains I’d stolen to offer some sort of privacy for myself. All was silent. But something was wrong.
This dream was a memory I did not have before. Or maybe I had it long ago and it had washed away like all the other memories of my being five and six. I had never remembered how I came to be here, but now I knew. And I knew why I knew. Ten years hence…
Momma Rat had been sick these past few days; a cough and chills and sometimes dry heaving, for there wasn’t much to actually throw up. We did not have any medicine or money for a doctor, but Momma Rat assured us that she would be fine. Now I knew that she would not be.
I was afraid. Ten years had gone by. She must have known. She marked my birthday as the day she found me and had gone out of her way everyday to get me something. Sometimes bread, or a new under-thing to replace what I wear now. One time, she found a silver chain that she gave to me. A few years later she found a ring that someone had dropped. It was a beautiful opal set inside silver plating, or at least that’s what she told me.
She had marked my years and in doing so she had marked her time as well. For, of a surety, she remembers the very first words I spoke to her.
I fingered the ring which I had looped through the silver chain and hung around my neck. I did not want to get up. Today was the day. Today I would watch her die. Or worse, she may already be dead. If I got up now, it would make it all real. I could go back to sleep and pretend that I didn’t remember anything. Maybe if I pretended I never remembered it, she wouldn’t die. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to shut out the image of her in my mind. But with each drop of icy water on my forehead came the image in harsher and harsher contrasts. In my mind I envisioned her withering away until there was nothing but skeleton and then, ash.
Finally I opened my eyes with my heart pounding. I sat up, letting the water on my head pool around my sunk in eyes as a kind of foretelling of the tears I would undoubtedly shed. Then I stood and pulled the flimsy shawl I had over my shoulders.
I crept to the door and opened it a crack. I peered out and saw no one. I opened the door all the way and walked out, over the sleeping bodies of my fellow brothers and sisters. I crossed the room and entered the kitchen. Momma Rat was fond of sleeping in the kitchen. She said it brought dreams of food and sometimes, if you truly believed your dream, you could wake with a full belly.
Her eyes were open. They stared blankly across the room. They did not look worried even though there was blood on the corner of her mouth. Just a little. You wouldn’t even notice it if you weren’t looking. She lay on the ground. Just like I told her she would be.
I don’t know how long I stood there staring down at her. It wasn’t until I heard crying that I startled and looked down to see little Petyr of six looking at her as well. He flung himself at me, wailing enough to wake the entire house. If I could call this shack a house.
Others came in and exclaimed loudly; some went to her, shaking her body and calling to her. I said nothing. I did nothing. And the tears did not come.
“What will we do?” They asked me and I took them all in. I saw us finally for what we were. We all claimed to be a family. And any who came to us looking for a place to stay would become a part of that family. But now I saw. I wanted to see. And I looked. The winter would kill some of us. Half would not survive the next three years. We were nothing more than a bunch of wayward strangers banded together under the horrid truth that we could not afford to do much else.
They all looked to me though, with tears in their eyes, shivering and skinny. So I did the only thing I knew how to do in times like these. I sang:
Children, children listen now
Crying just won’t do!
Sing heyna! Heyna! Fly away
For someday you will too.
Children, death is not the end
For a soul is made of dreams
Sing heyna! Heyna! Fly away
Death’s not all it seems.
No longer cold
No longer scared
No longer sick
No longer all alone
No longer hungry
Children dance in glee for this
She’s gone where we cannot!
Sing heyna! Heyna! Fly way
She’s found what we’ve all sought
She’s found what we’ve all sought…
The children began singing “Heyna” and I went back to staring at the cold body on the floor. It would do for a while. They would forget their tears. But still mine would not come. I would hold them then. Until I truly did not know what to do.
Then I would cry.
“And where will I be, little one?”
“You’ll be dead. Cold. On the ground. And oh so pale.”
Fear had gripped her features, and yet I was far too young to know of what I spoke, nor did I have the control to stop myself from speaking such things. I heard the gasp of surprise and looked up at the withered old face and kindly blue eyes. There were tears in them.
“Do you know who I am, child?” her voice was much younger than her appearance; she couldn’t have been more than forty, but hard years on the streets had added lines that should not be there. But I was a child then and did not know such things nor did I care.
I shook my head ‘no’ to her question. She held her hand out to me and nodded towards the end of the street. The end of East Borough, as I would come to know it. “Come with me. I will take care of you child. You need someone to take care of you, no?”
I thought about that a moment. But I was very, very young, and serious thoughts of someone taking care of me did not really exist. It was just assumed. If I was hungry there had to be someone there to feed me, didn’t there? If I was scared I could run into someone’s arms for comfort, couldn’t I? There was someone once. Before the kind and doomed lady I had come to know as Momma Rat. I knew her at the time, this person from before. But she had gone away. So I nodded and took the lady’s hand and she led me away…
I awoke in a sweat. Something dripped on my forehead; rain. Another leak in this already crumbling house. Winter was coming and the rain felt like ice on my skin. But I did not move. The sun had not risen yet; rather the eerie blue of twilight filtered through the small window and torn curtains I’d stolen to offer some sort of privacy for myself. All was silent. But something was wrong.
This dream was a memory I did not have before. Or maybe I had it long ago and it had washed away like all the other memories of my being five and six. I had never remembered how I came to be here, but now I knew. And I knew why I knew. Ten years hence…
Momma Rat had been sick these past few days; a cough and chills and sometimes dry heaving, for there wasn’t much to actually throw up. We did not have any medicine or money for a doctor, but Momma Rat assured us that she would be fine. Now I knew that she would not be.
I was afraid. Ten years had gone by. She must have known. She marked my birthday as the day she found me and had gone out of her way everyday to get me something. Sometimes bread, or a new under-thing to replace what I wear now. One time, she found a silver chain that she gave to me. A few years later she found a ring that someone had dropped. It was a beautiful opal set inside silver plating, or at least that’s what she told me.
She had marked my years and in doing so she had marked her time as well. For, of a surety, she remembers the very first words I spoke to her.
I fingered the ring which I had looped through the silver chain and hung around my neck. I did not want to get up. Today was the day. Today I would watch her die. Or worse, she may already be dead. If I got up now, it would make it all real. I could go back to sleep and pretend that I didn’t remember anything. Maybe if I pretended I never remembered it, she wouldn’t die. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to shut out the image of her in my mind. But with each drop of icy water on my forehead came the image in harsher and harsher contrasts. In my mind I envisioned her withering away until there was nothing but skeleton and then, ash.
Finally I opened my eyes with my heart pounding. I sat up, letting the water on my head pool around my sunk in eyes as a kind of foretelling of the tears I would undoubtedly shed. Then I stood and pulled the flimsy shawl I had over my shoulders.
I crept to the door and opened it a crack. I peered out and saw no one. I opened the door all the way and walked out, over the sleeping bodies of my fellow brothers and sisters. I crossed the room and entered the kitchen. Momma Rat was fond of sleeping in the kitchen. She said it brought dreams of food and sometimes, if you truly believed your dream, you could wake with a full belly.
Her eyes were open. They stared blankly across the room. They did not look worried even though there was blood on the corner of her mouth. Just a little. You wouldn’t even notice it if you weren’t looking. She lay on the ground. Just like I told her she would be.
I don’t know how long I stood there staring down at her. It wasn’t until I heard crying that I startled and looked down to see little Petyr of six looking at her as well. He flung himself at me, wailing enough to wake the entire house. If I could call this shack a house.
Others came in and exclaimed loudly; some went to her, shaking her body and calling to her. I said nothing. I did nothing. And the tears did not come.
“What will we do?” They asked me and I took them all in. I saw us finally for what we were. We all claimed to be a family. And any who came to us looking for a place to stay would become a part of that family. But now I saw. I wanted to see. And I looked. The winter would kill some of us. Half would not survive the next three years. We were nothing more than a bunch of wayward strangers banded together under the horrid truth that we could not afford to do much else.
They all looked to me though, with tears in their eyes, shivering and skinny. So I did the only thing I knew how to do in times like these. I sang:
Children, children listen now
Crying just won’t do!
Sing heyna! Heyna! Fly away
For someday you will too.
Children, death is not the end
For a soul is made of dreams
Sing heyna! Heyna! Fly away
Death’s not all it seems.
No longer cold
No longer scared
No longer sick
No longer all alone
No longer hungry
Children dance in glee for this
She’s gone where we cannot!
Sing heyna! Heyna! Fly way
She’s found what we’ve all sought
She’s found what we’ve all sought…
The children began singing “Heyna” and I went back to staring at the cold body on the floor. It would do for a while. They would forget their tears. But still mine would not come. I would hold them then. Until I truly did not know what to do.
Then I would cry.