Inktober #31: Ripe

It's his first harvest season. I'm nervous. I remember how I was at his age. The questions, the imagination. Even growing up with the stories you can't help but wonder why we do things this way. Why you always want to leave the inside bit gooey during the winter roast, as you smile along with everyone else in the ring. But the fire is so warm, and the company so pleasant, and eventually you just...grow up.

He did so wonderfully last year at the roast that it seemed like it was time to get him involved in harvest too. He didn't have as much hesitation as I did back then, but the harvest is different. Necessary. He has to understand our balance with them.

The Orchard stretches out as far as the eye can see, trees waving in the wind as they are tended to by the groundskeepers. My father never told me their actual name. They don't appear to have one. They are just..."them". They wander the Orchard, pruning, fertilizing, and making sure each and every fruit that grows all year long is protected until it's ripe.

When he first sees them he points in excitement, remembering them from the winter. He looks back to me and sees my smile.
"Oh, go along. But be careful! And be nice!" I yell after him as he runs into the field and straight towards the nearest groundskeeper. It greets him warmly.

The Orchard is practically full today with other families. The heat from the sun bathes us all as the winter mildly threatens with a bite of wind. I greet a couple I met five winters ago, just a few seasons after he was born. Their own little one goes to meet mine.

"A boon of Harvest to you," I greet them with.
"And a boon for you as well," they greet back. "I see everyone picked the same day to come and grab a fruit."
"Apparently," I chuckle.
"Sorry we couldn't be there for the ring last winter, we really wanted to be present for his first."
"Oh, no, please, it's fine. You had other concerns. Is she here?"
"We..." a brief look of sadness clouds their eyes before snapping away. "We haven't seen her yet. But we hope she'll be here."
"Well, it's a big Orchard but a small town. I'm sure you'll run into her eventually."
"Yes...yes. In the meantime though..."

I follow their gaze and find him looking up at a tree with a hefty fruit, as the groundskeeper respectfully backs away.

"Ah, right. I'll see you later," I say as I quicken my pace over to him.

He looks to me as I approach, questions written all over his brow.

"Hey there! You found quite the bounty!"
He looks in confusion back at the tree.
"See all that sap? You can tell from how much there is that there's a nice juicy fruit in there. In fact, it's probably ready for harvest."
The groundskeeper nearby lowers itself.
"Yeah, it's ready! Do you want this one?"
He looks back to me again, tears in his eyes, as he points to the tree's face.

And I see it.

"Oh. Oh my dear boy....."
I pause.
I look.
"What a boon."
The tears come. The smile cracks.
"You found her."
The questions I had as a child careen into me as I see them do the same to him.
"This is..."
He hugs me. No, clings to me, grabs hold to save some part of his world from shattering.
"What a boon."
He is wailing now, and nearby families are looking. Some with understanding, some with...something else, as the groundskeeper nearby rises. And another appears from behind it.
"We'll harvest it together okay?"
He leans back, fear radiating as he locks eyes with mine.
"No no no, it's okay! It's okay! They say, if you can find the tree of one of your blood, and eat the fruit, then you can be like them!"
The horror floods him.
"It's good! We can be like them! And then we can feed all these people in the winter! We can help the whole village!"
He recoils, backing into the groundskeeper that is suddenly behind him.
He screams, and not knowing what to do, climbs the tree.
They try to stop him, but in a blink, his foot is through the sap...and the fruit bursts.

I try to cry.

I try to remember what comes next.

It feels like seasons go by.

There is snow.

And sun.

And sap.

And all I feel is the breeze.

Until I am ripe.

Inktober #30: Catch

"Catch the first light. Hold it. And release it back to God. At the end of time, at the final breath, God will grant us life again."

With eyes fixed on the sky, my grandmother N'arta uttered her last words, and went to join God. On a bed of mappa leaves which curled around her in the afternoon heat, and our tribe gathered in a ring eyes fixed towards the point where she had watched, we felt her final prophecy pin itself to us like a straga's sting. And we waited. And watched the sky. And we saw a blink of red, and knew it to be true.

----

"Alright kids...THREE...TWO...ONE...GO!" and the painted red ball was launched far far away across the field as thirty children went galloping as fast as they could, laughing, towards it. "GO, GO! CATCH THE FIRST LIGHT!"
They raced and raced though N'ota had a strong lead. She ran and ran, panting as her legs bent back and forth to speed her stride. She would win the festival's prize this year for sure, and be crowned the Life-Bringer. But D'lora had other plans and shoved her to the side. N'ota spun off into the matta trees but refused to give ground and used the momentum to spin around, pounce onto a tree, and push with all her might to leap through the air and regain the ground she had lost. A final turn, a quick glare back towards D'lora, and suddenly she was alongside the still careening First Light, braked hard in front of it, caught it in her mitts as the wind was pushed from her chest, taking her along with it. She struggled to maintain control over it before digging into the soil, spinning, and sending it back the way it had come.
D'lora skidded to a halt in front of her. "Come on, N'ota! This was my time to win!"
"So you cheat? God sees you D'lora. And they will never accept a cheater as the Life-Bringer!"
D'lora made a rude gesture to N'ota and loped back the way they had come. None of the others had even come close and were likely on their way back to the celebrations. A feast, to honor God...and, as she smiled thinking about it, her.

----

"Welcome esteemed colleagues. My name is Nara N'yosa and I'm a professor of cultural studies here at Cravea. Long ago my ancestors, the Light-Bringer tribe, heard a prophecy from one of their wise women that would change our world forever. Their empire would come to encompass most of the planet, touting their predestined charge to bring the First Light back to God so that they would grant us Eternal Life. And any who disagreed...ended up in the ground. They left a legacy that remains with us today, in surprising ways. The red balls our children play with. Our predilection for speed-based sport. Even from a biological standpoint, as players with those vestigial toes perform better and get better contracts.
But, as I have discovered, there was another part of their belief system. A secret sect. We found evidence carved into remnants of the now extinct Map'ta Tree that another group formed within the populace, with very different beliefs. And they wanted the Light for themselves.

----

"Thanks, J'im. I'm here at what promises to be a historic day. The team here at Promotoa have been working for years to build what can only be described as our best chance yet at meeting God. The shining beacon you see behind me will soon be launched into orbit and flown to the First Light sun, that which gave us all life, collect some of that light, and then go in search of God to fulfill our purpose. How many millennia have we waited for this? From the first prophecy of N'ata we have been guided by her hand and God's will to do what will be done today.
While we may not ever see the fruits of this journey, or the families or those who are launched today, our ancestors, generations from now, will finally meet God, and bring us eternal life. Praise! Praise! Praise!"

----

Nala cracks her head against the wall of the ship as it comes slamming back into real time. The green danger lights flicker with the pops and flashes in her vision as she reaches up and feels the blood begin to flow.
"Fucking fuck Dapla YOU FUCKER!"
She flops down on all limbs, braces against the swimming and jarring, and strides as fast as she can towards the bridge. Corner, bulkhead, corner, grazed by a ripped piece of metal shit there's a leak, run, run, hall, door. Shit. Bridge door. Try it. Try it. Won't open. SHIT.
"DAPLA!"
She looks through the porthole, sees Dapla regaining his feet. He's hurt worse.
"DAPLA YOU SHIT!"
He looks dazed, but in a moment he sees her at the door, looks panicked, and turns for the control panel. Two moments later, and all the lights are off.
"DAPLA IT'S NOT MEANT FOR YOU!"
"I'M SORRY NALA! I have to. If we want God to grant us life...we have to lose it first."
"THE FUCK, DAPLA?!"
"At the end of time! At the last breath! I will take the first light. And I will die. And God will see that we have done what they asked."
She hears the slight shifting of engines as the ship auto pilots them into position. Here, at the edge of the universe, where no light has yet gone.
They found it, years ago. The very first photon. The first piece of light to ever exist in the universe. It had had so long to travel away from them, so they worked, and they went faster, and faster, until they went faster than time. Faster than light. They knew the consequences. They knew their people and even their world would be long swallowed up by the black hole on its way before they could return. But they would do it. They would catch the first light and bring it back to its source so that God would bring them back and give them life again.
At least, that was supposed to be the plan.
"You die here, Dapla, and we all die. Everything...it's over!"
"No, no Nala, you don't understand. But you will. You will have life."
And the hiss of the air being released hit her ear.
No light.
No more sound.
She could move, and feel that she was no longer in the ship.
She could move, but couldn't breathe.
This is it.
He will be in the perfect position.
The First Light will hit him, and it will be over.
...
But calculations can be wrong.
Space can be unpredictable.
And maybe, just maybe, God hates Dapla too. Because in that instant there is a spark that hits Nala's right eye.
And she goes spinning.
The ship's lights suddenly fill the void as it calculates the First Light has passed, senses its pilot, and roars into life as it speeds past her, opening the hold as she jets inside, and she swears she sees an old woman catch her as she comes to rest on the floor, the hold door shuts, and air once again fills her chest.
She gasps, over, and over, and can swear things look a little brighter than before. No old woman. But fucking Dapla must still be on the bridge.
Nala hobbles up, trying to stabilize herself on every surface as she passes the corners, halls, and doors to finally reach the control room.
The door is open.
Dapla is nowhere.
Of course he turned off his tracker. He didn't want to be rescued.
Nala approaches the panel, sets course for the origin. Sets course for God.
It's finally going to happen.

----

"Good catch," they say. "That was fun. Let's do it again."

----

Inktober #29: Injured

"Mr...Hawthorne, is it? Thank you for coming down to the station."

"My pleasure, officer."

"We're happy to see you've recovered, Mr. Hawthorne."

"From what I understand it was a rather sticky situation, but I am glad to be here as well."

"And you've been told why we called you in?"

"Yes."

"If you wouldn't mind...so we can get a clear idea of where to begin."

"Of course.

The rain is coming down hard, enough to make you shield your head and take cover under whatever awning you can find. The ionization is already in the air, you can feel the charge building. Soon enough the static storm will begin and anyone out won't remember a thing in the morning, if they survive at all. The shielding in this area broke down years ago, and none here have the political power to get the right people to do the right thing. All you can do is watch from the insulated windows of your insulated home and hope the repairs you made yesterday will hold.

And you can watch the people in the street, and hope for them.

I am in my insulated room. I am checking my repairs around the window. I glance out at the street. I am distracted by a knock at the door. I walk to open it as the beginning theme of 'Port Limel' is playing on the set. I open the door as it ends.

It has no face.

What is standing there does not make sense.

Its body is tall and short. Limbs extend beyond where they should and are simultaneously a completely normal arm reaching into the doorway.

It has a suit of black. It wears casual workout clothing. There is a red scarf around its neck.

Talons from a bird clawed hand reach around my neck as I stumble back to the tune of the intro to 'Port Limel'. Its shadow reaches behind to close the door behind it as it holds me there and a thousand-needle tentacle wraps around my mouth to stop my scream.

It throws me to the floor and my head is turned to see Richard Pendergast, the actor, I forget the character's name, running through the storm into Rita Lenari's arms, the actor, I forget the character's name, before a cloaked figure shoots him in the back and the end credits of 'Port Limel' start playing. Another one is on next. I wonder if I'll live to see the finale.

I feel the axe tear into my skull. And again. It is eating my brain like a slice of pie. One slice fills it and it looks out the window to see Richard Pend...no. It takes a picture. No. There is a flash. There is a storm. Rita Lenari will lose her memory in the morning, if she sruvivs at ll.

I can see hr as I li in the stret. The rin is fllng. A red scrf trails from me arnd the norner. It is ther. Itis ther. There is light.

There is more light. It is gone. I can see the staff around me, hear the whizzing tools. I tell Dr. Abergast, no. I tell Dr. Abernathy what I remember as he sits calmly by my bed and the hum of the protective field sounds like the intro to 'Port Limel'. I try to remember that the scarf I see isn't real.

I go home. The door is busted. The seal on the window needs fixing. Another storm soon. I can see where my cranial fluid left a stain. That at least was real.

And now I'm here."

"And now you're here. Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne, for your recollections. As you might understand, we're still trying to piece together the reality of your situation from the obvious changes undergone to your memory from the injury."

"Of course."

"And it sounds like there's still some damage surrounding the memory. I'd like to put you down for another stay with Dr. Abernathy to see if we can't pull anything else out if you don't mind."

"I would appreciate that."

"Good, good. After all you appear to be the only witness to these murders, and only survivor of this perpetrator's assault."

"Yes. I need to start remembering."

"We'd like that too, Mr. Haw-"

"I need to start remembering."

"Yes, Mr. Hawth-"

"Please. Please. I need to start remembering."

"Mr. Hawthorne?"

"I need to remember the scarf isn't real."

"Mr. Hawthorne I need you to calm-"

"I don't hear it. I don't hear it."

"I'm going to call Dr. A right away okay?"

"That isn't real. You cannot be."

"Hey can I get-....help..."

"You cannot be. You cannot be."

"What...the..."

"I see it. I see it. It's there. It's there. It's there. The talns on its hand are in yu, do you see it? Mr. Pendgrast? It lks pie. Brain. I mst repair the window. What a lng red scaf. I'm runng through the ran to Rita Lenari. A thousnad-needles in my eyes. It likespie. Itliks. Dr. A? I am injured.

Dr.?...

You're...I'm....there's..."