The boy was young once, a child like many others. hair as sandy and blonde as the golden bands, the endless western desert. Empty and soulful beneath the eventide veil. His eyes were as ice, the depths of the frozen oceans at the end of the earth.
He was his mothers son. And his grandmother before her.
He had almost died they say, at birth. An uncharacteristic and unprecedented moment of uncertainty. Some faltering anomaly in resolution. But he survived, and Their will was set in motion. He was loved by all and in turn he loved everyone. Innocence was bestowed upon him, he clung so tightly to his mother – she was beautiful and meant everything to him – they could hear the beautiful white galleon, sailing into the west. Daddy made him laugh, but taught him also to frown. Where the oceans edge kissed the desert sand beneath the set of Sol, he learnt to walk, to play and laugh, and life began in earnest.
[The clouds swept in, and the stars wheeled overhead; As the moon rose in the East.]
The year is seven, and he fights back the tears. Tumultuous and painful, the emotions swirl inside of him as he listens to them scream. Like conceited projectiles, designs on murder – their words fly. He cannot take any more and throws a pillow at them from the dining room. ‘Stop fighting!’ he pleads them, his little voice straining as he starts to cry. He runs to his room and hides in fear as he hears his mother scream those fateful four: “I WANT A DIVORCE!”. His pillow is soaked but he steels himself inside, grand ma would want him to be strong. The goddesses on high take pity, and lull him to sleep.
[They soar overhead ever changing, and Eluna gives way to Sol.]
He is in the year of his likes’ number, the nine. The change as yet unnoticed in the masses, was long before set in motion. His hair now as Jet. Black as the veil itself, reflecting only starlight. Errant and wild in shape are the strands, directionless and energetic. He cries in the arms of his grandmother, a matriarchal hero. His friend is gone, the little black cat. A burden his fragile and suffering mother could not bear. Tortured now she resembles less and less her youth with each passing day, yet still so beautiful. The boy takes solace in his grandmother. She is a pillar of strength, her faith like a beacon that guides the despairing and the broken into safe harbour – ‘Find strength in your mind, in yourself and let your faith shield you’. ‘May Angels, lead you in’. She is truly a shining testament to their ancestors, and to the energy that runs through their veins. They were wise in their recruitment.
[A piercing cold descends upon the city. As the afternoon light grows dim.]
The rain cascades around them, his mind illustrates thunder to peal overhead and lightning to pierce the encroaching darkness. The family is broken around him, they stand in the graveyard wreathed in black – their heads bowed in defeat. She has fallen before them and they will never recover from such a blow, their world it seems is ended. The cacophonous roar of their tears falling unchecked threatens to drown the thunder in his ears, but the boy looks on solemnly. He wonders if he is inhuman – some cruel and depraved thing, to not shed away his pain as they do.
_[Not a soul could have known or hoped to perceive, the ‘knight-errant’ standing to the right and behind him. hand upon shoulder, granting the boy strength to endure. Pity crept into and fell upon the mind of the fallen entity, for the first time in an eternity he gained a glimpse and a memory of everything he had wished to be, and everything she had given to him. He broke beneath a millennium of pain and suffering and joined the mortal press in their lament, his shoulders heaving beneath plates of mail as the crystalline connected with the earth.]
In a case of cosmic role reversal, the boy reflected the usual composure of his unseen benefactor; vigilant and composed. The merger began in earnest, unseen and unimagined. Not a hostile takeover but a fateful transcendence, like spiritual evolution – a simple reality of the world, to one day step above them all and plant his flag in their honour. Years beyond himself in a moment. He wakes up from his reverie and strides into action, the only way his young heart knows how. Walking from cousin to brother, uncle to mother, and back to the side of his aunt – he takes their hands and holds them close, lending his courage to them and holding them upright. In his mind he conceives that his grandmother would have wanted it thus, should she ever be watching her own funeral. Far away, sat next to her own mother she smiled. The goddesses smiled with her, tears lined their mirth – drenched eyes in the far country.
[The rain poured out. And the darkness gave way to the veil]
I discovered this evening a large number of pieces that I had written, and subsequently shelved. This trio excerpts was among them.