How to Make Life: Chapter One

Chapter One: Inigo

 

The ashes of my dead parents filled my mouth.

The wind raked bitter fingers through the fall air, collecting the corpse-dust from where it had previously been lying on the blood-soaked ground. Black mixed with red. It had picked the ashes up in rough embrace and tossed them about, laughing in a shrill octave as it did so. It was so cold, so cold, black, and red. And I, who had been screaming the tortured scream of one who had had his heart ripped out, received the ashes unwillingly. I spat them out with horror, and tears meshed with the dark ash that was now caked onto my face. At least by choking, I had stopped screaming.

And all the while the incessant humming of the Wall pounded agony into my mind.

Hum hum hum.

That Wall had surrounded me since birth. It had always been an object of childish curiosity, but now just the sound brought with it the crushing sense of claustrophobia. Maybe it was the fact that I could not escape the grotesque tornado which carried with it the remains of my parents, but I suddenly felt that we could never get away. Some cruel fate doomed us to forever traipse through the small, dilapidated, dying city while breathing in the ashes of our parents. We could never leave. And the ghosts of Mother and Father would always be seen in the shadows, reaching, crying, wailing. And those crooked shadows with crooked frowns would always haunt me as though they wanted to make sure I never forgot as if remembering would be an issue.

I turned to my little sister. Mikeita was now melded to the ground, dark eyes no longer vibrant and curious. No, they were absolutely dead. Her symphony of tears had ceased, and she was now just staring ahead with the unseeing eyes of those who had seen too much. Whatever light had radiated from her small face had been stolen by the wind as well just as quickly as a cloud could kill the sun. She looked like the rats we used to chase into corners to try to catch; the only difference was she had already been caught.

Something with fingers made of ice gripped my heart. My sister, once so small and innocent, now looked positively old and withered. The tears streamed with greater fervor down my cheeks, cementing the ash even more. I had promised my parents I would protect Mikeita. I had promised that nothing bad would ever happen. Damn it, I had promised.

I had failed.

Was that really the same girl who had sat on Mother’s lap just minutes ago, eyes bright and lovely? Was that really the same little girl who had curiously listened to Mother sing with not a care in the world?

And even as I thought this, I could hear my mother’s voice, a beautiful alto, carried in the same wind that now carried the remainders of her burnt body. I could still hear her. Was it really only just minutes since I had last seen her face intact? No wonder I could still hear. No wonder I would always remember.

 

 

 

 

“Hush little flower, don’t say a word,

            Mummy’s gonna make you a hummingbird.

            And when that hummingbird won’t sing,

            Mummy’s gonna make you a diamond ring.”

 

Mikeita had absorbed the blue sky with her lazy gaze from the lap of Mother. She listened to the soothing singing voice, the familiar tone that brought only comfort and protection. Mikeita’s eyes had drooped with the progression of the song and the incessant humming of the large, stone Wall that surrounded the city. Always there. Always humming.

No escape.

Hum hum hum.

 “Mama, what’s a hummingbird?” Mikeita finally asked, switching her focus to Mother’s face. Yes, it was much more beautiful than the blue sky above. So beautiful. And now it was black and bloody.

Mother had smiled and ruffled Mikeita’s blonde hair, and replied, “I don’t know, sweetheart. I suppose it’s a bird like the ones that fly over the Wall, but it could just be made up. It’s just a song.”

Mikeita had tapped her chin a few times, trying to imagine a hummingbird, and said, “I wish I was a bird.” She opened her arms and flapped them in a mock interpretation of wings. “Then I could go wherever I wanted. I could even go over the Wall if I wanted to.”

Mother looked at Mikeita with a smile that slowly turned into a frown as she looked out across our small yard - a garden of snaking thistles and choking weeds - at the enormous, steel wall that surrounded our city. It glowed faintly, casting the city in a very dim white light, and it always hummed. Always. No escape.

Hum hum hum.

“I wish I were a bird, too,” Mother had said. She then smiled down at Mikeita, frown disappearing. “Do you want a bird, sweetheart? I can make you one right now.”

My little sister had clapped her hands, her questions a moment ago completely forgotten in the thought of seeing a new, colorful little bird with feathers like a rainbow. “Will it be a hummingbird, Mama?”

“It will be whatever you like,” mother said.  “Would you like to see too, Inigo?”

I was just sitting on the ground next to mother and sister poking at the dirt with a stick, drawing swirls and shapes which probably meant something extravagant and beautiful just a few minutes ago. Just a few minutes before that powerful imagination seemed absolutely unnecessary and trifle. Upon hearing my mother’s words, I lifted my head and nodded. I gave her my full attention.

“Now, kids, watch this!” mother said, and, working around the little girl in her lap, she pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil stub, no bigger than a thumb, and, after scribbling down a few, carefully chosen words, she placed the paper on the dirt in front of her.

“Before I show you the hummingbird, do you two see anyone watching? Make sure you look around thoroughly, because it won’t work if anyone else is viewing my magic,” mother said, and my sister and I moved our heads back and forth like the swinging hand of a clock, observing the land in front of us.

But all we could see was the decrepit, stone street that ran parallel to the front of our modest home, the other dilapidated buildings around us, and, of course, the large Wall that encircled our town, larger than the trees and what had been the object of our fascination for years. However, our parents had always told us not to pay the Wall too much attention, for the police, the ones in the scary red uniforms, would come and drag us away. And I had always been somewhat frightened of those vivid uniforms; it seemed to me as though the crimson would swallow me up as though they were some organic predator with bloody, gaping jaws. So I would just sit in our garden and cast my eyes to the funny-shaped clouds that adventured over the Wall, and my sister and I wondered with all our might what else those clouds had seen and where else they had travelled.

There was not a soul about the town just then, and we knew this. Most of the citizens were hard at work, minus Mother who did not have a job at the moment, and Father who was currently ill and in bed. So my sister and I just smiled at Mother and coaxed her with the pleas of children into performing the long-awaited trick she was about to achieve.

“It’s all clear, Mom,” I had said, crawling closer to my mother to witness the spectacle. I think I was still clutching my stick. It was one of those childish things, I supposed.

“And what about you, Mikeita, my little flower? Do you see anything?” mother asked.

Mikeita shook her head fervently. “Nope nope nope! Hurry up and show us the hummingbird, Mama!”

Mother nodded, and, after casting a cautious eye about the neighborhood just in case, she waved her hand over the piece of paper.

And in that just that simple, unpretentious movement, the most miraculous light, white as snow and pure as the clouds, lit up the ground. It faded after only a few seconds, and where dirt had been a few moments ago stood a little bird made out of the soil of the earth. It tested out its wings a few times and then flew off twittering a good-bye.

Mikeita bounced up and down in Mother’s lap. “That was so amazing, Mama! That was so amazing!”

I nodded in agreement and tugged on my mother’s skirt. “Was that a golem, Mom?”

My mother smiled down at me, radiant and as beautiful as the sun. “Of course it was, my little prince. But you have to promise not to tell anyone, okay? It’s our little secret.”

I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes, feigning a look of anger. “Of course we won’t tell anyone!”

Mikeita concurred. “Yeah, we don’t want you or Daddy to get hurt, Mama. We would never tell.”

“Good,” mother said, stroking her fingers through Mikeita’s hair. “Because the soldiers would be very mad if they found out. And I don’t want them to take you guys away from me.”

“They’d have to catch me first!” Mikeita exclaimed, wiggling like a noodle caught in the lid of a can of soup.

“Is that so, little flower?” mother said, and she had hugged Mikeita tighter and kissed her neck between giggles of, “That tickles! That tickles! Stop it, Mama!” I always loved it when they did that; it made me feel so safe.

“Yeah, me and Kei are really fast!” I had said, drawing my mother’s attention away from my sister. “And even if that doesn’t work, I’ll protect both of you. And Dad, too, until he gets better.”

“Oh, my little prince,” mother said, and she rested her hand on my cheek. It was warm. And now it was just cold, black, and red. “Don’t worry about protecting anyone, okay? That’s what I’m here for, and I will never, never let anything hurt you or your sister. Got it?”

“But what if something does happen?” I asked. After all, I was at the age where cynicism starts to grasp hold of child-like virtue.

“Then I’ll tell you what,” mother said. She took my small hand, and, in it, she deposited the stubby, wooden pencil. “This here is the source of my magic, and I want you to hold on to it now, okay? It will protect you against all the darkness of the night and all the evils of the day, and no harm will ever come to you. When you use it, always think of me, and I will be there with you.”

“Does that mean that you will always protect us?” Mikeita asked, and I looked at my mother with hope as well.

“Of course, my dears,” mother said. “Forever and always. But let’s forget our worries and play; after all, it is a very nice day, and it shouldn’t go to waste!”

And Mikeita and I nodded, laughing through the carefree filter of a child’s psyche. After all, to our minds, nothing could ever harm us as long as Mother shrouded our qualms with her comforting smile and open arms. No, the whole world was our friend, and we were forever protected by our parents’ love.

However, as I stood in the swirling ashes of my parents, pencil in my left hand, my sister in my right, I understood that the world was far more full of despair and evil than I could ever comprehend. Innocence was robbed by the same creatures that once kept me warm, and the people whom I once thought immortal inevitably perished. Yes, I had learned my lesson quite harshly.