An Age of Mysterious Memories

Another slight surprise, Mata says “I’ll wait til after Lu, and you go, then I’ll give it a try.” I’m almost shocked, since we haven’t done anything as a family together since dinner together and meeting one another the Night of High Water. I guess I’m happy though, at least it means I’m not making Mata feel like an outsider in their own family.

Teuila shifts so she can lay her head in my lap and keep one arm wrapped around me behind her own head, while still looking at Lu.

Luni begins weaving her tale, “This is a tale of a land beyond our own world, a land where people live in great societies, kingdoms even, with many families in camps called cities, where usually they work together for the common good. However, in some cases, the common is not so good, and the good is not so common. This is a land itself without a name, but in that land stands a kingdom known as the Celestial Imperium.” As Luni says this, it feels like my vision zooms out. I can barely hear the rest of her tale, is she using something Lil told her about my dreams when I used to sleep talk and Lil thought I was telling them stories? Was she browsing through my memory logs? Do my memory logs even contain my dreams? Is it just a coincidence? Am I forgetting to breathe right now? Yes, yes I am.

I gasp for air as apparently Lu is finishing her tale, “So never let it be said that the only evil are the supernatural or undead. Sometimes the greatest evil is the darkness in our own hearts. Never let it consume you.” There’s a bit of a stunned silence, other than our various breathing, mine more audible than most as I’m chugging down air, catching up on breathing after accidentally holding my breath.

Agwai states, “I fancy a turn if that’s alright, I think I can show you all a thing or two about crafting stories.” I’d never object, but at the moment I’m also pretty much too stunned to do so. “This is a tale of caution, a reason to think twice about venturing into deep, dank, swamps. Dun dun dun!” Agwai suddenly shouting at the end causes the twins to shriek, and I barely manage to both not jump, as well as to stifle a chuckle. Ag is normally so serious, I’ve never seen this side of them. Teuila does cover her mouth to stifle a chuckle, temporarily removing her arm from around me, as she shifts slightly in my lap, to be able to see Ag as they tell their tale.

Agwai continues their tale, “Once, long, long, long ago, on a beach not very far from here, lived a clan, much like our own, with homes, much like our own.”

Manameia asks “What happened to them!?” All full of nervous energy.

Agwai replies “Hush now, wait til the end and you’ll find out.” They actually give a wink after making the shushing gesture.

Manameia hushes themself with a “meep” sound.

Agwai continues after the interruption, “Where was I? Ah yes, the clan, the clan.”

Manaia interrupts, “What was their clan name!?” excitedly. These two really get into Ag’s stories it seems. I’m finally getting to learn a little bit about the twins, and well, most of the family it seems.

Agwai pauses to think for a moment before answering, “The hm, Shellrockers, yes, that’s what it was, it was so long ago, nearly lost to time what their name was.” Mata doesn’t even try to stifle his laughter, and his exclamation of “Really!?” until he gets a few dirty looks from the rest of the family.

“Anyway,” Agwai continues, “the Shellrockers lived peacefully along their beach, much like us, they spent much time in the sea, but unlike us, at least unlike our life recently, they rarely visited the swamps. Unlike us, they had names to call one another by. Some of their names are still known, others lost to time. There was Pietro, and Pedro, and Peter, and Paul.” My brain momentarily BSODs at this combination of names, like a flickering error triggers some static, some snow on a screen where a memory should be. “One day, Pietro ventured into the swamps while the others played ‘neath the waves in the sea. Pietro’s curiosity about this nearby bit of nature got the better of them in more ways than one. Of course this fine lad could navigate by the scents in the air, the light in the sky, and all manner of tricks, so he was certain he wouldn’t get lost. Pietro certainly wouldn’t get lost, but he would be lost in another way. Many hours’ journey, deep into the swamps, Pietro began to admire and even marvel at the plants and the funguses and the trees, but Pietro derided the slime that lived atop the standing water. Its light glow was a sickening green, and it clung to his fur as he traveled. Pietro would say aloud ‘how awful is this gross slime atop this water, how dreadful is it to ruin such a pretty place.’ Perhaps Pietro should have kept his mean comments to himself, and maybe the tragedy about to unfold would never have happened.” There’s a round of meeping from several of us.

Agwai’s story continues to unfold, “Pietro began to find it harder and harder to move deeper into the swamp, so, he decided to finally turn back, but found it equally hard to return. Pietro’s fur was sticky, with slime coating it, from bottom to top. Pietro was certain he saw more and more of the slime grow thicker and heavier in the parts of the water where he walked, so once more he derided the slime. ‘See how this awful goop grows thick and slows a traveler, see how grossness ruins the delight of a day.’ Twice now Pietro spoke thoughtlessly, carelessly of any feeling of the natural world around him. Pietro then began to panic as his limbs felt harder to move, almost as if the slime were encasing him. Pietro a third time, decried the slime ‘oh how awful this muck must be that it sticks to one then hardens, it derails a traveler's journey and slows them thusly, its disgusting goo spreads and sticks and stays, becoming a second skin, some membrane of which I know not.’ Pietro then was sure he felt slime dripping down into his ears, Pietro wanted to scream in terror at the feeling, but did not, could not. Pietro returned home, and acted as if all was normal, his fur clean, no sign of the slime of the swamp. However, on the next day, Pietro invited Pedro to the swamps, there, he asked Pedro, ‘Isn’t this slime awful?’ ‘Isn’t it gross that its sits atop the water?’ ‘Isn’t it sticky, a disgusting goo?’ To each question, Pedro answered yes, as the slime coated Pedro’s fur, became sticky, and hard, then Pedro too felt slime dripping into his ears, and Pedro also wanted to scream, but did not, could not. The two returned home, clean, no sign of slime, and the next day, they invited Peter and Paul to join them on a journey into the swamps. There they asked Peter and Paul three questions on the awfulness of the slime atop the water. Peter and Paul couldn’t help but to agree, and once again, by the third question, each felt slime trickling, they wanted to scream, but did not, could not. Pietro, Pedro, Peter and Paul returned home, clean, no sign of slime, they invited yet others of the clan to the swamp, with the same results on the following day. On the last day, only one very special young lady had not yet been to the swamps, so the whole clan invited her. Her name was lost to time, but she was a beautiful, pearlescent, bashful, demure young lady.” Everyone gasps at this and the younger ones whisper “Penina!?”

Agwai states, “Perhaps, perhaps. This very special young lady was brought deep into the slimy swamps, and there she was asked three questions. ‘Isn’t it gross?’ They would ask. ‘No, nature is always beautiful’ she would shyly answer. ‘Isn’t it awful how it sticks?’ ‘No, it’s like nature gives a comforting hug.’ She would meekly reply. ‘But isn’t it horrid that it hardens and slows one, more and more?’ her response could only be ‘but what is the matter with a slower journey, more time with my beloved family, and the beauty of nature?’” There’s a round of awes and everyone shushes.

Agwai finishes the tale, “The others all looked at one another, and the slime began to drip away from our little lass, but so too did her family, they seemed to melt away before her very eyes. She cried and whispered to the swamp itself ‘I would beg you, please don’t take my family, but you must be very lonesome indeed to need such company, if you wish, I will tell your tale.’ All that was left of her family, the only answer the swamp seemed to give was the very dim glow of the slime itself atop the waters.” Agwai dusts their hands off as if to indicate the finishing of their tale.

“What!? That’s it? But what happened to her? Where’d the rest of the family go?” Cry the twins in discombobulated questions simultaneously.

“Shush now, no one knows, only that she spread a cautionary tale wherever she went, to be careful with your words, for whom they might hurt, you know not. It might even come back to be that you’re only hurting yourself.”

“But, but, but but but.”

“Shh my darlings,” coos Lao. “A good thing we’ve such a nice dry cave, provided by our little dragon here isn’t it, after such a scare?” Lao elbows Agwai lightly in the ribs. The twins are clinging to one another tightly, and I realize I’ve got a bit of a death grip on Teuila, who happens to be grinning at me like a lunatic as I let up. Lil spits their own tail out of their mouth to thank Lao for the compliment, apparently they were chewing on it nervously.

“Something a little less close to home, for the next one, perhaps, Reggie?” Lao asks, seemingly hinting that I should maybe try to be a bit less scary than Agwai, I can’t help but to agree.

I begin my story attempting to be subtle, since it’s also a cautionary tale. “There once was a child named Will, with a family who loved them very much. Will led an idyllic life, frollicking with fluffy sheep in the fields, lazing about on sunny hills, or playing with carved wooden toys. Will’s family only ever set down two rules. One: Be in bed by sundown to close the windows and shutters at night, make sure they’re locked tight. Two: Never, ever, ever, follow a light such as a lamp into the woods.”

Mata mutters fairly audibly “Pft, I can tell where this is going.” His muttering earns him some harsh stares and some shushing.

I continue while answering Mata, trying to remain friendly, “Yes, it’s true, it seems obvious to us, we know to heed the rules of those wiser than we. Some children, somewhere out there though, have never heard a tale, nor know why rules exist. Will is one such child. Will’s life carried on as usual, after all, the rules were easy to follow, there was no reason not to. Day in and day out, for what seemed like many years Will paid heed to the rules, even if only accidentally, or by rote, or for whatever reason. One day however, Will came down with a curious cough that simply would not go away. Will’s parents, understandably upset, said to Will ‘stay here, beloved child, we will journey to find medicine, and return hence.’ ‘Yes mother, cough, cough’ went Will. ‘What are the rules my dear?’ ‘Be in bed by sundown.’ ‘And?’ ‘And shut the windows tight, I know I know.’ ‘And what else?’ ‘Never follow a lantern into the woods.’ ‘Yes my sweet, do these things, stay here and we will return as soon as we have medicine.’”

The twins exclaim “Will was left all alone!?”

I reply, smiling, “Well, Will did of course have the sheep for company, they were friendly, and fluffy, one sheep in particular slept in the house with the family, little Bessie, she was smaller than the rest, and better behaved. Bessie and Will whiled away the time, awaiting Will’s family to return with medicine. One day, and the weather grew blisteringly hot. Two days, the weather became insufferable. On the third day, it began to rain, which would normally be a reprieve, but it was still just as hot, it became muggy, the air itself sticky and sickly. At night, Will could not stop coughing because of the moisture in the air, so of course, could not sleep. Will was also sweating uncontrollably from the intense heat, so shoved Bessie away. She didn’t understand why Will was spurning her, but she so loved Will that she sat dejectedly some ways away. Will was still suffering, so unbearably warm was it, Will thought that perhaps a breeze could at least mitigate some of this terrible night. Will began to open the windows. Bessie, Bessie was such a smart sheep, she began bleating at Will, and tugging at Will’s trousers with her teeth, trying to drag him away from windows, as he opened more and more, searching for relief from the heat, hoping to let a breeze blow through the house. Will, a bit delirious in suffering, did something that they’d never done before, Will kicked Bessie out of the house, angrily saying ‘you insufferable creature, can you not see you make it only warmer, you harass me as I try to ease my pain?’ Bessie sat mournfully outside the door, only wishing to cuddle her beloved Will, to comfort Will with her soft fleece. Fleece which was now soaking in the heavy rain, causing Bessie to become heavy, and tired. As Bessie grew tired, unable to stay awake, staring hopefully at the door, waiting to be let back in, Will instead grew restless, and stuck their head out the nearest window, trying to feel the breeze, and the rain pouring down. Suddenly, Will spotted a light in the distance, seemingly at the edge of the forest. ‘Oh, oh joyous day, my family returns.’ However the light did not draw nearer. ‘Perhaps then it is that they are lost? Or perhaps not my family, but some traveler that knows how to stay cool in this dreadful heat?’ ‘Needs must I go to them, for my sake or theirs. Besides, that is surely no lantern, see how it hovers, then bobs to and fro? I was warned only of lanterns.’ Will of course misremembered the rule, equating light to lanterns. Will crawled out the window towards the forest, landing in the mud with a splash and a thud. This alerted poor Bessie who was so tired, and so heavy with water, she went to see what was the matter, and saw her beloved Will walking away from the house, towards the forest. She bleated and bleated, but could not get Will’s attention, so she stalked off against the rain as Will trudged onward, but she was so slow, as she was a tiny sheep, with so much fleece, fleece heavy and wet with rain. Will got further and further away, her bleats did not reach Will over the sound of the rain. Will broke the treeline, and began to disappear into the forest, following, ever following the bobbing light, calling out ‘Mama, Papa, traveler perhaps, wait, you’re heading the wrong way, you’re heading deeper into the woods.’ Never were Will’s calls answered.”

I pause for a breather, and ask a question. “There are two known endings to this tale, one cautionary, and one happy, which would you like to hear, or both?”

“Happy, happy, happy.” Come most of the replies, yet from Mata an utterance of “Let’s hear both.” I don’t know if it’s wisest to be trying so hard to appease Mataalii, but I do conclude, or rather decide, to tell both endings, based on his wishes.

“Right, well, at least one of you would like to hear both, so you shall have both. In one version of the tale, it’s said that Bessie tried her best, but either stayed at the edge of the woods herself, or ventured in, but was lost, never seen again, and Will followed and followed and followed this light until Will was so lost, that the night never seemed to end in the forest, and then the light winked out, leaving Will alone in the forest to disappear, never heard nor seen as Will again, mourned after the return of their parents, and eventually perhaps forgotten, or perhaps coming to be known as Will of the Wisps, for wisps are what we call dancing lights in the woods that we should not follow. Will of the Wisps would be cursed to forever also lure families and travelers into the woods to spread the curse of their lonely existence, all because they could not bear to follow the rules the one time it became difficult.”

There are some gulps, and one of the twins asks, almost pleadingly, “And, and, and the happy ending?”

I give a slight nod, closing my eyes contentedly, happy to wrap the tale up on a happier note. I finish with, “Yes, of course, in another version of the tale, poor little Bessie found something sharp, some say it was magical shears, some say it was a rock left by Will’s parents just in case of such an occasion, whatever it was, Bessie shed her fleece, freeing her from its heavy burden, and she charged into the forest after Will. Bessie was able to quickly catch up, but Will was disoriented, ‘Who or what are you, naked little beast?’ Will asked, then stated ‘Needs must you leave me be, I must find whomever this is, they must know how to beat this heat, or perhaps at least need shelter.’ Bessie bleated her heart out at Will, and Will heard the love in her ‘Baaa’, recalling who she must be. ‘Oh Bessie, my dear sweet Bessie, what has happened to you? How did you lose your so-wonderful, cuddlesome fleece?’ Baa of course was her only reply as Will bent down to hug her, coughing in the rain. ‘You did this for me, didn’t you? You came all the way out here, and you gave up your beautiful fleece for me? Even after how I spurned you this night, how I treated you. You must love me so, and I have been so foolish. Whomever holds that light is also a fool, heading ever away. Oh Bessie, Bessie my sweet, I fear now that I realize I am lost, I do not remember the way home.’ Baa came Bessie’s reply, her teeth clenching Will’s trouser legs, she began tugging away. ‘You somehow know the way back? Though our tracks are washed away in the rain?’ Baa Bessie said. Will followed beloved Bessie, winding back towards home, avoiding thickets, as more lights began to spring up around them, lights that seemed to dance hysterically, enticingly, strangely, invitingly. Will was curious, but Bessie was insistent, baa she would say, and Will would once again focus on her. Eventually they finally broke the treeline, and were within sight of home. Will and Bessie returned home, haggard, exhausted, Will coughing up a storm. Will coughed themselves to sleep, cuddling Bessie despite the heat. In the morning, the awful weather dissipated, and Will’s parents returned with medicinal plants. Will’s parents were shocked at Bessie’s appearance, and Will admitted the awful truth. Will’s parents wanted to scold them, but the fright that was suffered seemed punishment enough. Instead they praised Bessie for her bravery and sacrifice, and gave Will the sorely needed medicine. Though it tasted awful, Will’s cough was cured in short order, and though Bessie would take many moons to grow back her beautiful fluffy fleece, the family was able to live happily, ever, after.”

“Yay!” excitedly exclaim the twins. Even Lil peps up, and says something along the lines of ‘told you you tell me stories pal.’ across our shared mental wavelength. Lil looks pretty smug and happy at the same time.

“Ugh, that’s so sappy.” States Mata, yet he’s smiling down at the twins. I think their happiness is precious to him, I mean, it’s obvious that it is.

“Stuff it, it’s your turn,” says Teuila, defensively of me, though I just hug her and shake my head lightly, she somehow knows I don’t mind right now. I try to let her know subtly that I’m the one that, well, I feel like I deserve Mata’s ire. I try to blink back tears as I think of what Mataalii blames me for.

“Right, well, my turn, as our illustrious warrior princess so says.” Mata starts off, jibing at Teuila, which upsets me a bit, or maybe even a great deal, but I look down into Teuila’s eyes, and see that she’s just rolling them in response. “My tale is a tale of terror, and disaster, one never before heard.” He continues.

Agwai squints at Mataalii, which I find a bit odd, yet Mata carries on, stating, “Our tale begins in a land of barren rock, and mountains of fire, with a child who was given a great and powerful gift, a gift far too powerful for them.” Lil starts to object with a “Hey,” muttered under their breath, but stays mostly silent, since everyone else seems more or less interested.

“A family of, um, yes, badgers, knew that these great mountains of fire were acting out, earthquakes had ravaged their homes beneath the rocks, so they had decided to flee, as food had become more scarce, and the land more dangerous. On their flight however, they met a supposedly special child, one who offered food, which of course was scarce in so barren a land.” As Mata’s tale is told, my eyes sting and my breath catches in my throat, he’s definitely doing this to hurt me. Teuila is gritting her teeth in anger in my lap, she looks ready to leap up and attack Ali, but I just stare down into her eyes sadly. As my tears begin to drop, lightly splattering her forehead, her gaze softens, and her jaw unclenches.

There are some gasps from the rest of the family as they put two and two together, but Mataalii pushes forward with the story anyway, there’s a look of deep regret in his eyes, “One of the badger family was infatuated with this arrogant child, and whether the child’s curiosity, or the badger’s infatuation was the true culprit, the child won out with a request to see the home of the badgers. Since they now had food, they thought, what could one more night hurt, before facing the world and finding camp elsewhere. They shared a meal and their love with this newcomer, this child who seemed strangely powerful, and strangely lucky. This child had tales of adventure to woo the family with, even if many of those adventures were only won through luck by the child’s own admission. The family bedded down, happy to share their home with this intruder, for whatever reasons. Their um, yes, their caves were a comfort, since they had already feared the journey ahead, traveling coastward, away from the fiery mountains. In the night however, two of the elder badgers were worried about the rumblings of the earth, so they set off to check out the disturbance. All of a sudden, disaster struck, another earthquake, the biggest ever seen, one that shook the land as far as a day’s travel, and the family was stuck right in its heart. The elders were swallowed up by the earth right away, and the family banded together, dragging the useless child away from the crumbling rock; the child was even injured during the escape. Whether from the injury, or their own ineptitude, the child forgot about their powers for some time, while the badgers exhausted their strength dragging everyone away, and three of the littlest badgers were taken, crushed by the waves, I mean caves.” Everyone is aghast that he’s still telling this tale, but there are tears in his eyes, even the twins look mortified, whether or not they’ve caught on, or are just scared for the family in the tale.

“Eventually, the child remembered their great power, and came up with a convoluted way to dig the family to safety, the remaining family anyway, at what seemed like a supposed great cost to themself. A great cost that miraculously disappeared over time that the badger family spent doting on the child.” As Mata concludes, I break down into tears and curl in on myself, going fetal, rolling slightly away from Teuila, and trying to distance myself from everyone, sobbing uncontrollably. Mata sniffles and I can hear them rubbing their snout. I can feel Teuila’s burning rage, and Lil’s heated anger, but I don’t want that for them, I don’t want anger or a wedge tearing them apart. Mata’s right. I could have been faster with my powers, I could have just invited the family to my home right away, rather than asking to see their home. Agwai and Laomati seemed about ready to chastise Mataalii, but we’re in a dugout for our own safety, our whole family’s safety, we can do nothing but stick together through this. He can’t be sent to another room, or punished in any way that isn’t a risk to his life. I don’t want him to be punished though, I want to be alone, I want to cry and cry because I know he’s right. I don’t know how to make it better, but I know how to be alone though.

I claim earth into my inventory below me, and as I plummet into squishy mud, I release clay from my inventory above me, sealing off behind me, except for a tiny slice intended as an air-hole. There are cries of alarm, but the clay muffles them quickly as I dig deeper and place more, it seems thick enough that I can’t even sense Lu or Lil. I stay fetal, weeping, sobbing in my deep dark dank hole for what seems like the longest time, until I begin hiccuping. How do I face them when he’s right? How can I possibly continue to be with the people I care about most, when I put them through hell, and cost possibly five of their lives already? I screwed up so badly. I never thought of myself as any sort of hero, or wielder of great power meant to save others, but now it’s so obvious that I’m so far from any such description, that I just want to fade away, and never risk causing anyone else any of this suffering ever again. I try to extend the tendrils from my tattoo, they come forth easily enough, I let them wrap around me, and sure enough, like Lil said, it hurts, it hurts a lot, other than that, it’s like a hug from a stranger, a hug I desperately need right now. It has to be from a stranger too, because I can’t bear to face the family right now. It’s almost funny that Mata would pick badgers and digging, instead of directly telling the tale of the Night of High Water. Like it prophesied even more calamity for us for any life spent under ground or near the Fire Biome. Thinking back about the first time I heard about Fire Biome, I realize I’m even an unreliable narrator in my own life’s story. At some point, I know I remember smelling something, but I’ve also been recently convinced that I’ve never had a sense of smell. I swear I had certain plans or thoughts, or interactions with Lil, but maybe I never had them. I have an actual memory log that I can access, and I still misremember, or forget things.

Why do I even have something that seems like such a small body? Also maybe a young emotional maturity, I’m not sure on that regard. Why can’t I decide what gender I am? Why do I think I’m human without being sure? Why am I supposedly powerful, due to a unique skill, or at least manipulating a skill we maybe all could have, in my own unique way? Why did they have to get hurt? Why did they have to die? Why did Mata have to remind me, in front of everyone, how badly I screwed up? I thought maybe we were at least on neutral terms, like leave each other alone terms. Was Mata crying because he knew he was hurting me? Or was Mata crying because of the pain of remembering losing the others? Also, why am I hiccuping so hard? Oh, oh there isn’t much air, to breathe, down, here, the wedge I’d left as an air-hole collapsed. Oops. I lose consciousness before I can start reclaiming any soil or clay to dig my way to air, as I drift away, my body hurts in brand new ways.