Dulce Lacrimae

Aniela sat in a cold classroom beside a wall, with poor effort of making the room less miserable the walls were painted yellow and orange, and on the dull bright colours were ugly drawings which were laments of past boredom. Aniela looked over her table, her classmates sat around her, talking, laughing, messing. Aniela stayed silent. She wished she could also have friends like they do, but she doesn’t really have anything to say to them. She looked around the classroom, clumps of bluetak and ruined posters with overly enthusiastic characters smiling at the mindless information no one cared for littered the classroom. Aniela started spacing out, thinking about people. How she can’t make friends. How did everyone else know? Did she miss a class on making friends? Or maybe there’s some book on it? She’ll have the check the school library. You see, Aniela isn’t bullied by the kids. They just ignored her existence all together. And whenever she tried talking to them, it started to get awkward.

Aniela toppled her way home, through the town with pastel little houses aligned across a road, everything on that road, was the town itself. A few pubs, a Garda station, her primary school, a petrol station, an estate and a park with a flooding river. Aniela and her father lived a bit outside the town. And Aniela’s job was to take herself to and back from school, her mother always walked with her. Now she walks with just the memory of her. Aniela’s thoughts went to her mother. Pure Irish women, Aoife Burke was. Beautiful chestnut hair, the type people argued about if it’s blonde or brown. Aoife was a very kind and proud woman. From Galway she was, and didn’t dare to live anywhere else. Aniela had so many good memories of her mother. She smiled just thinking about her. And she missed her, but she still didn’t feel sad. She just felt empty. But Aniela never felt sad. You know, the feeling which makes a person hopeless and careless. Sadness might be the strongest, most raw emotion of a human being. You cry, you shout, there is no filter there. And tears, as much as we hate them, they help to feel relief from all of the negativity. Aniela never cried.

Aniela took out her little key and let herself inside their bungalow. It’s a little sky blue house, which once was surrounded by flowers. The flowers died with the gardener. Aniela entered their kitchen, and saw her father was sulking beside a coffee. He didn’t even look up at her while she entered. The room smelt like cigarettes. Usually, the dinner was always ready once Aniela got home. But ever since a month ago since mom died, Aniela had to take care of herself. So she grabbed herself a sandwich she hasn’t fully eaten for breakfast, and sat beside her father. They were quite distant. The girl loved her father, but sometimes felt like he didn’t love her. Aniela lately felt tortured by her loneliness, and she wanted some advice.

“Father.”

“Father.”

“Father.”

“What.”

“..The weather is really nice today, isn’t it?”

All she got is a grunt. This always worked when other people do it.

“So, how’s work?”

Her dad glared at her and got up and left her alone with her thoughts. This was unexpected her dad loves telling her about his job. How it makes him feel better helping families in grief. It’s probably the only time he ever smiled around her. And once again, Aniela returned to her own world.

Ambroży Ostrowski, Polish immigrant, went to Ireland during the Celtic Tiger, hoping to find work. And events of life led him to be a mortuary assistant. He loved his job because he felt honoured to help families in need. And he always told Aniela about how the people would feel better talking to him. He told her that he was an empath, and if he had better cards in life, he would’ve been a therapist. Because he understood people’s pain, and could put a smile on their face. She wanted to be like him, make people feel better, to make them smile. She once found his little diaries in her parent’s bedroom, explaining how to do autopsies on different animals, and later talked about autopsies on people. She never got the chance to practice it on people, but she got really good with animals.

The next day, Aniela decided to go straight to the source. She sat down in their small little kitchen, walls painted dark purple and the cabinets were brown. They sat at an ordinary four people table, with three chairs. One now collecting dust. Her dad avoided looking at that chair, while Aniela seen it as a sacred item.

“Father.”

“Father.”

“What.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

Her dad slowly turned his head in her direction, his grey diamonds showed pure annoyance, while the rest of his body looked as if he carried tonnes of weight from one place to another for the whole day. He didn’t answer.

“I mean, all the children don’t talk to me. At all. And I don’t know how to make friends. How do I make friends?”

Silence.

“Everything. Everything is wrong with you. From the damn beginning.” He covered his face with his hands.“Where…. Do I start changing?”

“Is that all you care about?! Yourself?! Don’t you see I’m in pain?! Your mother, died!” The man suddenly snapped. “You are a selfish, egotistical brat. You only think about yourself and your own world. Not once did you ask me if I’m ok. At the funeral, you just walked off and didn’t even greet anyone. And even when your mother was alive, I never got the chance to talk to her because YOU occupied her!.” He retuned his hands to his face. “Why, oh why….”

Aniela’s eyes widen.

“But, but, but how do I change? I’m sorry, really. I didn’t know.”

“You never know!” He snapped at her. “You just apologise, and start it again. I don’t know Aniela, I don’t know if you can possibly change. How about you just leave me alone. After all, you never cared about me anyway.”

Silence lingered. Aniela looked blankly at her father. This did happen a lot. She did apologise a lot. But she just didn’t know what to do, how to be better. And she did care about him! She did! She did, she did, she did! But how possibly could she change his mind?

“Here you are, saying nothing. Absolutely nothing. No remorse. No change. Maybe it’s for the best if we just don’t talk. And you wonder why you can’t make friends.”

And so, he left. Aniela wasn’t satisfied. She didn’t know how to change. Now she was struggling on the inside. Thoughts said nothing but there was this feeling in her body, as if she was pulled from side to side, her brain was covered in cement, she didn’t know how to react. How to put words to how she felt. She wanted to scream, to kick, to push. To run. And so, she decided to run.

Ireland, a country full of fields. And cows. And among those fields, Aniela ran. So fast her thoughts didn't catch up to her feet. She ran past the flooding river and the old windmill on the other side. She ran alongside the river. She could hear the water impatiently running with her. And she reached an old graveyard, with a little ruined church, its elderly ashes spread across graves. When she got there, she stopped in her tracks. What now?

She looked across the graves, not a very happy sight. Old Irish graves were just regular stone crosses with mysterious white spots that had definitely nothing to do with the birds.

The graves were forgotten, in their little rows of peace. Forgotten, but their past sins never forgiven. Like how Aniela could never be forgiven by her dad. Forgiven for what? At this point, for her own existence. Or so she felt.

Aniela walked among the graves, she liked places like these. Dead people were easier to understand.She sat down on a bench, and overlooked graveyard. Aniela remembered watching with her mother clean the graves, setting flowers on them. Her father would also get lanterns to put on the grave. Her mother liked taking care of relatives graves, but she wasn't religious herself. Personally, she wanted to be cremated and her ashes would be spread at a beach. Yet Aniela’s father didn't do that. But why do people clean graves? One might say it’s guilt.

"So, we meet again."

Aniela jumped up, and looked up at the speaker, finding two voids looked at her. Federov's voice is very calm, yet it has a hint of danger. But you can't quite put your finger on it, how he could be dangerous.

"Oh." Is all Aniela could squeeze out.

"Anything new with you?"

"No"

"Are you sure? You look quite, unsettled"

"I'm fine."

Federov sat beside her and looked out into the graveyard. In the horizon, you could see the sun setting and painting the world in light pink hues.

"How's your father?"

"He misses mother."

"Well, that is understandable. It will take him a while to adjust. How are you coping?"

"I miss her with every thought."

Federov nodded, and looked at the little ruined church.

"Around this area, l've noticed a lot of little churches like this. Would you like to look closer to it with me?"

"Sure."

And so they walked forward it. Aniela had already looked around it but in the current moment, she was happy to distract herself. The ruins were out of limestone and was slowly eroding away over time. You can see there were two parts of this church, but only two walls were left. And the little stone alter. Around the church you can see ashes, coming proudly from the centre, where there was a little ruined bonfire.

Federov crouched over it and observed what possibly could be in the bonfire.. "What are you doing?"

Federov didn't answer. He took out a little shovel and started digging with it.

Why possibly could he have a shovel in his pocket? And why was it so small? Was it made for a squirrel? Or for a crow during their funerals? Aniela looked at him curiously. Suddenly, Federov stops. He bended over and takes out a little book, its pages looked like they were made of vellum. There were words written on it, which said

'Liber Insaniae'. Aniela tried to read the title, but failed. "What does it mean?"

"It means 'The Book of Intelligence"

"Oh, how do you know?"

"Eh, I'm fluent in Latin, I studied it in school." Federov said quietly."Let's open it." He declared.

And so Federov did. There, on top of the page was written 'Necromancy' in big black letters. And under it, handwritten text. Federov flipped through the book but the rest of the pages were empty.

"Strange." He muttered. Then he looked up at the sky, where dusk was stretching across the sky.

"How about you take this book with you, and some other day we will see what's in it. For science, of course."

"Why not now?" Aniela complained.

"Because it's getting late, now go ahead home." He put the book in her hand and she with a grumble marched away. Federov watched the girl go.

She entered the house, a bit worried that her father would catch her coming back so late. Yet he wasn't there, with only the cigarette smell left after him. She walked quickly through the hallway and jumped into her room.

Then she sat on her bed and looked at the book in her hands. It smelled like ashes. On the leather cover were little carved symbols with the letters above a gem. A blue little gem with gold sparkles. She ran her finger across the stone, feeling its cold and smooth surface. She heard a loud snore from across the hall. Father. She put the book on her nightstand and stared at her white wall. Her father wanted her to leave him alone. And that's exactly what she is going to do.