[Author's Note: Yeah this is based on Anansi Steals Stories which is a part of a lot of African diaspora religions and folklore as well as the religion and folklore of the Akan people. I want to thank everyone who held on to that story and told it to the children in their lives. May the world be free one day. ]
192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrzajp4Xtyu
It's one of those days where no one takes me seriously at all in any way and I don't know what to do. It's one of those days where the blood, the intestines, the bones of millions of people including children and babies are splayed out onto the hillside. It's one of those days where I know that even death is a mercy. Because I know my childhood and I know the venom and the disgust in peoples' voices when they talk about people they consider lesser beings. I know my childhood and I know how I was brought here to be useful, to create wealth for the masters.
I sit silently, trying desperately to hold back the tears and just barely managing.
I'm sitting on the cold ground, no furs or blankets under me because of course, they never are. The fire glow of the campfire burns yellow-orange and then red-orange against the darkness, thick, and hot, and burning. I am not heated by the fire. Only those who are sitting on polished-fur-strewn chairs are. I'm never near the fire. Always in the shadows. Always unseen.
I am here because it's colder inside and I'm bone-tired. But I wonder if I would be better off if I was indeed inside the cold damp basement with some of the other dirtpeople. Because the Towerpeople are sitting around this fire, munching on sweets, telling their stories.
Stories, stories, stories. I hate their stories. They're not looking at my shadow-smeared face, my ink-edged eyes. They never really do. They never really look at any of us dirtpeople. Whatever. I tell myself that I don't need them. I tell myself that I don't need anyone.
"And those violent, insane people crawled out of the dirt under our feet." Niamus's voice booms like thunder. He sits like a king on his fur-strewn oaken chair, legs splayed out, back straight, and nose pointing upwards. He towers, even among Towerpeople. "They were without purpose, without masters to direct them and their lives. They were without a heel to be under. And like every other being born to serve, without anyone to serve, they turned on each other, started fighting and screaming and eating each other alive."
All the other Towerpeople watch him with great interest in their hard, haughty eyes. They are lounging leisurely in their seats, lazy as a pride of lions, picking at the sweets on their plates. They like this story. Obviously they do. It's the story of my people - the dirtpeople - and how they were "organized" by the "wise and benevolent" Towerpeople. I know that it is not just what happened, not just history with artistic flourishes thrown in to make it entertaining. I tell myself not to be so hurt by it. But his words, the way he says them, the disdain in his voice very time he refers my people, it honestly makes me want to kneel over and die.
"But the great prince and ruler, the tall, clever, handsome Prince Audra, he knew that there was only one way to save these violence-inclined creatures from themselves. He ..."
I have had enough. I don't want his words, his expression, beating down on my soul, grating my insides, twisting and tearing at my mind until I don't even know how to hold on anymore.
I silently arise, the chill of the night air brushing the backs of my legs.
"Hey!" Oh shit. Rough, angry, needlessly aggressive tone of voice. Of course it's directed at me.
"Yes?" I ask meekly, keeping my face down. I want to storm off in a huff but survival means I need to hide my desires and show them what they want to see. The woman decked in an expensive silk nightgown and fur cloak stares me down like one would stare at a spider crawling across the floor.
"Go get us some more drinks. Hurry!" The amount of venom that's dripping through those words is unbelievable. I hate this. I hate her. I hate all of it. But of course I force my aching muscles onwards. I was already tired but I suppose work never really ends.
"I said hurry, /girl!/" I hate the way Towerpeople say the word girl when it's directed at dirtpeople. I hate the way they say the word boy. As always though I have no power. I force my pace to quicken.
——-192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTv41wmRGQS
I feel like I'm drowning. Like poisoned water is filling up my lungs, like poison tears are welling up in my dry eyes.
I am too tired, too dead to even cry. I feel so much older than I am yet at the same time I feel so much younger than I am.
I'm twenty-four. Twenty-four and I feel like I'm forty, and I feel like I'm three. Because I never really got to be a kid, not when I was stuck in this universe where I had to work myself raw, let them call me less, and fade into the background like a ghost. I didn't get a childhood. And I didn't get a chance to give the children that came after me a childhood.
I am a Mother first and foremost somehow. I don't have any children of my own but motherhood is in my bones, in the space between my lungs and my ribs, in my veins.
Mafalia, Pavlin, Levi, Andronicha, they are the kids I'm able to be around most, being the children of the other people who work in the mansion. Of Anderei and Lilith. But they are my children too, undoubtedly, infinitely, one hundred percent. They are sweet, unimaginably, incredibly sweet. Young. Wide-eyed. Sensitive as all children are. Mischievous when they have the chance. They are sad. Forlorn. Weary. Terrified. Beyond imagination. Because they are dirtpeople. They are dirtpeople growing up in a world where the Towerpeople rule everything.
Mafalia is four and she has to work instead of being able to play and learn freely without restriction. Mafalia can't even say English words without her childish accent bleeding in. She is a sweet girl, who likes to play and cuddle and run around and play pretend. She likes spiderwebs in the corners of rooms, because they seem to be made for her, seem to be talking directly to her in a way that other people can't hear. In a world where not even she is her own, she has the spider webs.
Pavlin is six. They are a boy and a girl apparently, and shifts between being more of one or more of the other. They are full of questions. Questions that they usually have to repress, questions they cannot seek answers to. They have an incredible sense of balance for one so young as they are. They have a way of subtlety in their their words that means they often have a double meaning. The baby child works as a delivery child between the neighbouring estates and you could tell they are scared about having to walk out into world alone.
Levi is also six. He has a protective streak inside him. And a sneaky streak. He has something inside him that just wants to run, run, run until he can't anymore. It is a desire to get away. A desire to escape. But no matter how much he runs he knows that /they/ would always follow him like a shadow. I want him to be able to feel the wind in his hair and the pounding of his heart until everything else fades and there is only wild, wild freedom.
Andronicha is eight. The oldest. She is a deeply imaginative little girl and one who can hold onto anger better than most. She is the one who holds the rest of the kids together, even holds us together somehow. She is resolute in an absolutely broken way. She is far too young to be so broken, she is far too young to be crushing herself with the responsibility she is crushing herself with. She is far too young to be living in this world but alas here she is.
Right now the kids are asleep. In the dark damp of the basement, on the threadbare sheets folded carefully on the unyielding stone. My babies. They are curled up together, between their parents. I normally sleep in the middle, with my girlfriend Katapa so each child is next to the warmth and reassurance of an adult. But I was up late tonight - even though I'll have to be up early tomorrow - so the five of them ended up huddling for warmth and I understand it.
I settle down beside Anderei and let my exhaustion pull me to sleep despite the way the floor grinds into me.
——-192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoKyqvVJjvQ
The sun isn't up yet. Exhaustion hasn't left me yet. But it's time to wake up. Desiree, who works in the mill, shakes me, gently, until the terror of what the Towerpeople will do to my loved ones if I don't get up washes over me and jolts me awake properly.
"Good morning, Desiree. Did you sleep well?"
"Of course not," she answers. "But none of us ever do. Can you wake the others? I have to go back to my work."
"Yeah, I can wake them. Thank you for waking me, you're a lifesaver."
"Thanks. See you later."
"Bye. Good luck, I hope the day isn't too harsh."
"You too." She vanishes out the door and back towards her station.
The four of us adults are up first. We smile at each other though it's obvious we all feel like crying, all feel like dying. But little comforts where we can get them are worth the world, and we can only really get them from each other. Katapa, tired, looks me in the eye, the warm brown-green of her eyes soothing mine, making them want to tear up just a little bit less than they'd been wanting to before.
The stone floor beneath me feet is cold in a dreary way.
"I hope you all slept well," Lilith says softly, her voice like the tiniest hint of campfire smoke in the air, both wistful and invigorating.
"I hope so too," Katapa replies, looking around the room sombrely.
"I didn't sleep well, fuck the tower bastards for not giving us beds." They expected me to say this. And they were all thinking it, if the conspirational, comforted glint in their eyes is anything to be believed.
"Yeah. Fuck the Towerpeople." Anderei's almost as rebellious as I am. Good.
"I guess we have to get the kids up." Lilith's voice is filled with defeat, her eyes almost as worn down as her dress.
"I wish we didn't have to, they're sleeping so peacefully." Katapa winces in sympathy. She's so fiercely protective of those four kids. But things are the way they are and there's no changing that. Unfortunately.
"Well if we don't they'll fucking die." You're right Anderei. Fuck.
We each make our way to one child. I scoop up little Pavlin in my arms, hold them for a second before I brush my fingers through their hair. They're so limp and small. So young. My little bird. They all are. My sweet birds and I wish they could fly away but they can't.
"Wake up. Pavlin, sweetheart, wake up. Wake up. I know you don't want to but baby baby you know you have to." They stir, moving their gangly limbs, muttering a little bit, sleepy and incoherent. It makes my heart melt.
"Aunt Nan. Hi." Consciousness is slowly returning to them.
"Hi Pavlin. Get up, get up."
In a few minutes three of the kids are up. I hug all of them, whisper good morning.
Mafalia's eyes are big and tired and she clutches her hands into my hair.
"Aunt Nan I want to go to sleep," she says.
"Well we can't always get what we want," I sigh as I kiss her.
Andronicha smiles at me as I kneel down to hug her. I can tell that there's so much she wants to say. So much she wants to scream. But she doesn't. Some words crack through though.
"Miss Siessia has a new doll, with a pink dress." She doesn't say how broken she is, but the words crack under the weight of themselves, and under the weight of all that's left unsaid.
"Levi. Levi. Wake up." Anderei's voice is soft. Haunted. I can tell that he's in pain. But his son is a soothing balm to the pain.
"I'm having a dream."
"I'm sorry. Tell me about your dream later. We have to work."
I give him a hug and whisper good morning.
We brush out the tangles in the kids' hair with our fingers, with the kids cuddling into us. All day we are not able to be there for them. Not able to give them affection. So in the darkness of the basement, we do what little we can to make them remember that they're worthy of love. I feel so small right now, the eight of us exchanging quiet words and meaningful silences, as we all silently hope that this entire place will burn to the ground.
"Sweethearts. Remember, no matter what they say or do we all love you." Katpa's voice is as soft as honey.
———192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfCLppcq9d0
The mansion is big. It needs to be kept spotless. Well it doesn't need to be. They want it to be. The Towerpeople, that is. But that's simply how it is. There's no point in thinking of how it could be because that's not something that's real.
Work is manic. Panicked. Frenzied. As it always is. It hurts. I find myself wondering when the day is going to end after the day has just barely begun. I always do. After every eternity though there are the infinitely precious moments I get with my family.
I stalk around, like a ghost. I am generally not allowed to work in the same place as the kids, or even the other adults. The Towerpeople say that the work will be more efficient if we spread out. But still, I can see my kids every once in a while and I make sure that I make those moments count.
Right now I am sweeping the floor. I have to go at a dizzyingly fast pace, as I always do, making sure that I don't knock anything over or anything. The job has to be thorough. Perfectly thorough. It's maddeningly repetitive yet requires every single drop of attention I have. The only reason I am even able to do it is that I am terrified. Of what they will do to my family if I don't.
I enter into a large room that has red and white walls and porcelain all over.
"Hi Aunt Nan!" Oh it's Mafalia. And she's cleaning the vases. It's work that's too delicate for her, she's so small. But it's work that she has to make herself do nonetheless. Her eyes are glazed over with a horrible sort of concentration and her mouth is dead tight in fear.
"Mafalia! Baby! How are you?" My exhaustion does a good job at keeping my voice low but I pay close attention to the volume control nonetheless.
"I miss you. I wanna hug. And play."
"I wish I could play with you. Would just a hug be okay?"
"Okay." There is something slightly defeated in her little voice.
I kneel down to take her into my arms. I can feel her tiny body tremble as she hugs me tight. She buries her head into my neck and I feel the soft wetness of teardrops.
"Oh baby. Are you crying?" I turn us around so that we are forehead to forehead. With one thumb I gently dry her tears. At this she cries harder and clutches me tighter. I'm so scared for her.
"Baby I wish you could cry. I really do. But you can't let them see you cry. At night, yeah? At night when we're all together."
"Can we throw the pinecone?" Her voice has a bit of hope in it. She loves throwing around the pinecone. She is four. Just four. She should be throwing around the pinecone all day, not polishing vases and stuff. But alas. If we try to escape we'll die. And as much as death might be a better fate than this, maybe, I do not have the courage.
"Yes, we can."
"Yes, we can throw the pinecone?" There are the smallest hints of brightness in her voice. But that's just like her. Able to find the smallest bits of brightness in even the most desperate of situations. Though that doesn't make the desperation less sharp.
"Can we cuddle?" Mafalia asks.
"Yeah."
"Yeah!" Her voice is a bit louder than it should be and there's some mirth in it.
"Do you want help with your work?"
"Yeah."
"Okay baby. I can only help you for a few minutes though. Aunt Nan has to do her own work." I hug her close and kiss her forehead and she gives me a small, broken smile. She's far too young to be so broken.
———
I have been grinding herbs into fine powder for a while now. The Towerpeople always need so many spices in their food. And they give us plain food to eat, with barely enough nutrients if even that. But the masters do make the slaves grow and pick and transport and dry and powder and cook and serve all the ostentatiously fanciful food that they don't even need.
I hear soft, quick padded footsteps coming through the door. It can't be one of the masters, their steps are never this hurried and when they are they're loud.
I see Levi walking quickly through the doors. His face is a careful mask of blankness but under that you can see the sheer terror and the deadened misery. The Towerpeople have probably sent him to get something for them. And they don't ever ask nicely. They say it in the most cruel way possible. Of course he's miserable. Of course he's scared. I wish I could say something to him but time is of the essence. If he takes even a moment too long they will yell at him. Or simply rebuke him in their hard, cruel, grinding, smug voice which is literally worse than getting yelled at.
I watch as the little, young boy with big eyes, lanky limbs, and a head too large for his small body solemnly and seriously pulls a pitcher with lemonade, digs around the cellar until he finds the ice and puts a few large chunks in. He gets some spices from the pantry, having to stand on a box and then on his tippy toes to reach. And then he mixes it all together and his thin, lanky arms lifts the heavy pitcher and he carefully hurries out.
I desperately wish I could say something to him but I know that the masters are waiting for him to return and time is of the essence. I can't delay him. I do however send a prayer his way. I do not pray to the Fates. I don't know who I pray to.
A few minutes later Levi stalks into the room, his whole face clouded over by thunderstorms. I set my work aside and catch him as he collapses into my arms. I hold him close to my chest and stroke his soft hair as he silently sobs, his overly-large eyes overflowing with tears. He's so small. So small. I kiss his temple and sing to him.
"Aunt Nan?"
"What?"
"I hate them."
"As you should."
"I don't want to go to them."
"I wish you didn't have to, baby."
"They act like I'm always /bad./" And it's at these words that he starts crying harder.
"You're not bad Levi. You're really really really good. They're wrong. They're wrong and they're stupid and they're mean."
I'm not able to hold him for too long. He has work to do and so do I. I do however hold him. And that's something.
————-
Andronicha and I are washing windows together. It's great that we're together. I know that the simple aspect of being beside someone, being beside someone who loves you, can be so incredibly soothing in and of itself. I'm glad that I'm beside her. I also make sure to somehow work even harder than the inhumanly, inhumanely hard I normally work so that Andronicha doesn't have to work as hard. She's a baby. A little eight-year-old baby. I need to and will make life just a little better for her if I can. Because I usually can't. I usually can't at all. I always feel so powerless and helpless and I hate it.
My mind is in the strange place of crushing and screaming frantic misery that it usually is in when I'm doing my day's work.
"Aunt Nancee?" Her small, soft, words echo through my head like a breeze in the night.
"What sweetie?"
"Has anyone ever gotten free?" I pause to think.
"Yeah, child," I say, "they have." I don't know this the way I know that dark clouds bring rain, that is to say from personal experience. I don't know it the way I know how to make tea for fevers, that is to say from being taught. I know this from knowledge stored in secret deep within my heart, that has always been there and always will be.
"Ya think we could escape?" There's longing in her voice. And hope. Desperate, irrational, life-giving hope. I know the answer she's grasping for. And I know I shouldn't get her hopes up when said hopes are built on nothing. But I can't bring myself to answer truthfully.
"Maybe."
"Imagine if we escaped. The look on their faces. They'd be so mad." She laughs. Andronicha thinks it's funny when they're mad sometimes. And that's good. It's a form of protection. But after everything she is still a child. She still cowers and internally weeps and puts on a fake submissive face and feels her spirit cracking every single time she has to stand in front of their casual, constant wrath.
"It would be funny. Siessia would have such a tantrum."
"She's nine years old and she acts like she's two." There are threads of authoritativeness in Andronicha's voice. Siessia is always so bossy. It's nice to hear my child speak this way about her.
"No every two-year-old I've ever known has had better manners than her. She's just a brat."
"She's a bratty bratty meanie katty." I hold back laughter at Andronicha's words.
"Yes. Now go back to your work."
"Aunt Nan. I don't want to."
"Neither do I but I want you to have food."
She sighs in frustration, and while part of it is a little bit playful, most of it is despondent and frustrated. But she does go back to the task at hand.
I can't protect her. I can't protect any of them. I feel so helpless.192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcH0ailmilK
————
It's a strange moment where we're between tasks. Waiting for the Towerpeople to give us new orders. Pavlin looks out the large window, leaning over on their elbows. They can't fall because there are bars. They also can't escape because there are bars. I stand alert, looking for any signs of the Towerpeople. I'm exhausted. Overwhelmingly, terribly exhausted. But Pavlin is here and that's really good. I have my baby.
"Pavlin I love you."
"I love you too." Their words are airy and whistful and not entirely in this dimension. I glance at them. They are staring deeply out of the window.
"Aunt Nan?"
"Yeah baby?" I glance at them for a moment. They're gazing at something far away. They're really cute. They simultaneously look so much younger and so much older than they are. Like time stopped existing and the entirety of it coalesced into this tiny, lanky, large-eyed baby boy-and-girl.
"Why ya think they hate us so so so much?" Their voice is dark. Soft. Secretive. Questioning. Intelligent. This is an incredibly dangerous question so of course it's the type of question Pavlin would have. It's good though. As absolutely terrifying as it is, it's good that they ask terrifying questions. Because there's hope in that. I don't know how but there's hope in that. Because I know that there's something hopeful to be found in the answers to the dangerous questions. I don't know how but there is. And Pavlin is smart enough to hide all of it. To hide it in submission and meekness and agreement until they are sure they are safe.
"Because they think we're not people."
"I know, I know. But that isn't the point. Why?"
"I don't quite know."
"It's because they want to hurt us. They want to make us into workers so we can do do do stuff for them and they don't want to feel bad about it." Dear something, this child is a genius. Wow. Like, they're absolutely right. But it's not something you can say out loud. Not to the Towerpeople. Not ever.
"You're right. You're very very smart. Do not ever let the Towerpeople know how smart you are."
"They would say I'm not even if I tried." And they're right about that too.
"I know. But they'd be angry. You know they'd be angry."
"I know."
A Towerperson is coming. Vendi, the older woman who is the lady of the household. She is terrifying and I remember how terrified I was - and still am of her. I want to keep Pavlin safe.
——————
Finally. Finally the day is over. I am lying on the floor in the basement, overwhelmed by exhaustion. I feel so overwhelmingly lonely as I often do after hours and hours and hours of being threatened into shoving away my humanity. My kids come tumbling through the door. Weary and silent and soul-starved. Katapa and Anderei follow them.
"Children!" I exclaim brightly as I gather them up in a hug. Kata and Anderei also join the hug. It's so healing. They're so healing. Being able to hold them is so healing. Being able to run my fingers through Andronicha's hair and kiss Levi's cheek and nuzzle into Pavlin's cheek and kiss Mafalia's forehead. It's so incredibly healing. Rounding the sharp, jagged edges with pure sunlight. Mafalia and Levi start sobbing, followed by Pavlin and Andronicha. It's good. It's good that they're able to cry, able to express their emotions, after holding them in for so long. It's good to let it out when you need to. So many kids are denied that chance. I know I was.
At one point Lilith joins the group hug. She is always so sarcastic and so silently confident but underneath it all her emotions run like a flooded river. I think I see a few tears fall down her face too. We're all lying in a mass of warmth for maybe five minutes when Mafalia pokes her head up like a baby bird coming out of its shell.
"Pinecone!" She exclaims.
"Oh yeah!" Katapa says with brightness in her tired voice, "Pinecone!"
Anderei reaches over to grab it and we align ourselves in the corners of the small room, one kid nuzzled in each of our arms. I have Mafalia, Kata has Pavlin, Lilith has Andronicha and Anderei has Levi. The kids clumsily throw the pinecone to each other, often missing but the room is so small they don't have to reach very far to pick it up off the ground.
"Levi tell us about your dream," Katapa asks.
"Oh. Well we were all in the kitchen right? Then there was a birdy. A little red birdy. It sang a beautiful song. It bit and clawed the windows. Until they were open. Andronicha for real scared that the Towers would find out. She chased after the bird out the window. Then all the parents got scared and ran after her but she was flying. Like the bird. She laugh. And then we went after her. And all the people got so mad that we were up flying. And then we flew to the fields right? And everyone looked up at us. We dived down and took their hands and pulled them up and then they were flying and then. Then there was a storm. But we flapped our wings so hard the clouds flew away!"
"That's such a beautiful dream. So creative. Your mind is beautiful Levi." Lilith smiles softly. She hads always loved good stories.
"Yeah Levi. That was beautiful. Thanks for sharing it with us." Kata smiles and ruffles Pavlin's hair.
Andronicha turns from her conversation with Mafalia.
"That's cool!" she says, "but I wouldn't ever jump out a window just like that." Levi laughs.
"What would you do?" Anderei asks in a soft, mellow voice.
"I'd walk up to it. And I'd say 'Hi.' And I'd say, 'bad birdy why did you break the windows now we'll have to fix them ourselves.'"
"What would the bird do?" I ask.
"The bird would sing and chirp and grab my finger and pull me away."
"I'd the birdy magic?" Mafalia asks.
"It would have to be," Pavlin says, "or else how would it give us our powers?"
"Yeah it would be magic. And more importantly it's nice. It's a nice magic bird who likes to free the people and it likes to cause trouble for the Towers. And it flies across the blue sky and the Towers can't even do anything about it because it's a bird and it can just slip and fly away."
"That's such a pretty way to describe it Andronicha!" I exclaim.
"It can help us slip and fly away too, can't it?" Katapa smiles.
"Yes! Yes it can!" Mafalia exclaims. "We will become birds and fly away. We will grow wings and feathers."
"So what would you want Mafalia the birdy to look like?" Lilith asks.
"I want my feathers to be red. Like in Levi's dream. But blue on my head. Blue is my favourite colour. Like the sky is when before morning. And also big sharp claws!"
"Oh my gosh that's so pretty!" I exclaim.
"Yeah. Mafalia the bird is gorgeous. Gorgeous just like Mafalia the human. All you kids are absolutely georgeous. Levi and Pavlin and Andronicha and everyone."
"Aww thanks!" Levi exclaims. Andronicha smiles while she holds Lilith's hands in her own while Levi squirms and Mafalia arches her head up and runs her hands through my hair. Gosh they're cute. Unbelievably cute.
"What birds would you guys be?" Lilith asks.
"I would be a green and yellow and blue bird!" Pavlin exclaims. "And I would be shiny like the sunlight. And people would look at me. And they would think about home. I would sing secret songs!"
"What are secret songs? Are they like songs that have a secret message inside them?" Anderei asks.
"A secret song is a special song. The slaves know what the words in the song are. They hear the song and it reminds them of home. But the Towerpeople don't know the words. They don't even hear. And ... and I will sing all the songs the Towerpeople don't want the slaves to hear. And it will be a secret."
"Oh my gosh! That's really nice of you, Pavlin. That's a great idea. Secretive." Katapa smiles conspirationally.
"Yeah," I agree, "it is. We should find a way to do that in real life, don't you guys think so?"
I'm met with enthusiastic agreement.
"My bird would be light pink but the tips of her wings would be blue. Blue like the sky is just when it meets the ground. It would peck at the eyes of the Towerpeople. They would hate it. And I would laugh so much. It would be too fast to even see, if it wanted. And no-one could catch it!" Andronicha smiles.
We all laugh, especially Mafalia and Levi.
"That's a great idea," Anderei says in a voice like molasses. "You all have such great, incredibly, brilliant ideas. All of you. I just know that you're all going to do something great. The whole new generation is. I just know."
"Yeah," Lilith says conspirationally, "with hearts like yours, like all of yours, like all the kids' I'm sure the days of their rule are numbered. I don't know how but they are. Anyways, on with the topic."
This is all so rebellious. It's all so not allowed. How? How do they have this hope? What brought it on? I'm scared. I'm scared of what will happen when such rebellion sees the light of day. But at the same time it warms me like nothing else does.
"My bird would be red but with a black chest and head," Levi states.
"Nice," Pavlin smiles. "And we would all fly away together! Be a bird family. We have to bring the parents. I don't want to go without them."
"Yes!" Mafalia kicks her feet out, "Mama and Daddy and Aunt Nan and Aunt Kata will come too. They will be the momma and daddy birds."
"And auntie birds," I remind her.
"And the auntie birds. And all the other people would come too and they would be the friend birds and the Towerpeople would not come they would be stick on the ground and they would not even be birds. And we will cirp and chirp and we will play!"
"That's a very sweet, nice idea." Anderei's eyes sparkle with bright affection.
"Also, also, also, Aunt Nan, we will build nests in the trees and we will live in that not in the big scary house. And we will cuddle!"
"Aw that's a perfect idea!" Lilith's voice sparkles like sunlight reflecting on the water. "Now we have to go down to sleep, kiddos. Put the pinecone down for now. Let's cuddle up."
All the children voice their dissatisfaction until Katapa and I move to calm them down.
"Guys! Guys! We can cuddle up, can't we? And we will sing you guys a lullaby, okay? You guys have to rest up. Maybe you'll have some more cool dreams."
This seems to calm them down and they reluctantly settle into into their spots. Pavlin is in my arms now, and Mafalia is with Lilith. Andronicha is beside Anderei and Levi is curled up next to Katapa. Katapa starts singing. Softly, so softly. She always had such an incredibly beautiful voice.
"/The world will turn and turn and turn on./" She lyricizes into the night. "/The sun will set and the moon will shine on. The world will turn and turn and turn on. The sky will darken the stars will rise./"
I can feel Pavlin sobbing. At least they feel safe enough to express it. At least they have that.
————-
It's Wednesday. Wednesday is a curse. Wednesday is the day that everybody has to go to church. You would think that it would be a day of rest but no. We still have to work. And after the work we have to find and iron their best Wednesday clothes. We have to polish their shoes. We have to make breakfast and lunch and dinner ready and to pack lunch into the travelling boxes along with the sun powder and the hats and everything. We have to carry their baggage as they go to church. We have to serve them, and the the rest of the Towerpeople, lunch. We have to fan them while they go about their day lazing around with their friends. We have to haul their bags back. And we have to sit through a horrible church service.
I awake with dawn, my own internal clock jolting me awake this morning. I take a few breaths to calm down, and ground myself by feeling the way Levi's breaths rise and fall against my chest. I am the first one awake. I go over to shake Katapa awake. We kiss in the darkness of the cellar.
"Wednesday?" She asks, voice heavy with sleep.
"Wednesday," I reply.
"Damn."
We share one last pressed, longing kiss before shaking Anderei and Lilith awake. Then we start the task of waking up the children. They are slow to wake, wanting to cling onto the safety and support sleep offers them. They always are. But we must wake them. Today is Wednesday of all days. We have to wake even earlier than normal to get the masters ready to go to church.
"Auntie Kata the morning is cold!" Mafalia clutches Katapa grumpily.
"Mama. Give me a moment." Andronicha pleads sleepily, not quite in this world yet.
"Mom. Mom. Mom. Five more minutes," Levi begs.
Pavlin murmurs something unintelligible as they burrow closer into Anderei.
"Guys it's Wednesday. You know what that means. You have go help Momma get the food ready." Their faces become drawn and just a bit scared. Well what else did I expect? But the earilier we get down to the task, the less rushed it will have to be. They know that. And they start rising and make their way up to the kitchen.
Anderei, Katapa and I make our way to the stuffed closets of the masters. We quickly sift through the clothes until we find the ones marked for us. We carefully yet quickly iron the full, colourful dresses, the floating blouses, the silk ties and scarves, the smartly-cut suits and jackets, the shimmering shawls. And then we set them out on the clothes hangers of the masters. We find the shoes and sandals and we polish them. We give the picked-out jewlery a wipe and polish and we lay them out.
Soon we are packing the bags into the carriage and then just waiting for the masters to be done getting ready. We take this as an opportunity to socialize with Caroles, the slave who drives the carriage. He's a kind man. Quiet. Serious. He hears many secrets in his job and he keeps them hidden deep under the lids of his eyes and he takes them out and shares them in private, safe moments. He's kind, and good at stealing. The kids love him.
"Uncle Caroles, how are you?" Andronicha exclaims quietly, with mischief in her eyes.
"I'm not doing too badly little princess. I hope you're getting by not too badly as well."
"No uncle Caroles. I'm not." It's good that she is free and comfortable enough to be so honest.
"I'm sorry Princess. You deserve so much better. You truly do. How are all my other princesses and princes doing?"
"Bad. Very bad. The Towers are fatasses," Mafalia loudly exclaims.
"Oh well I'm very sorry my princess. But yes, they are very wasteful a frivolous. One day they'll get a little taste of their medicine."
"Yeah!" Mafalia exclaims with some excitement and some vindictiveness in her voice.
"They will." Pavlin smiles like they know something we don't. "I don't care what they say."
"Am I right to think that you're not doing well either, your highness?"
"I have strength." They smile weakly. They're six years old. They don't have strength. They just pretend they do sometimes as a coping mechanism. Time after time I've seen them break.
"Still, child, you deserve all the love. You deserve to not have to be strong."
Pavlin smiles again, softly.
"And Levi, my prince. How are you doing?"
"I don't want to go to the church it's big snd scary."
"I know, child. I know. Hey at least all of us will be in church with you. We can help you get through it together, okay? Hey kids. While the Tower bastards are eating their own posh-ass food, do you want some treats of your own?" He reaches into the bonnet of the carriage and pulls out a handful of candies wrapped in parchment paper.
"Where did you get these?" Anderei asks.
"I stole them, more or less. Miss Siessa had a whole big jar. She left it in the carriage. I carefully hid the jar in the bonnet, where only the slaves look, for two days. And when no-one took notice of it, I did the right thing and gave the candies to the children of the estate. And these ones are for your children. And the rest are for all the children at church." Caroles smiles and it shines like starlight in the night.
The kids cheer out thank-yous in a disorderly chorus and eagerly hold their hands out. He gives them two sweet, taffy candies each and they eagerly start opening them right away.
"Thanks." I say.
"Don't thank me. I love it when they're happy."192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMHt7MMc3Ub
————
The carriage ride to the church is quiet. We sit on the broad beam at the back of the carriage, along with the luggage, our legs dangling over the side as we stare at the dusty road. We hold tight to the children so that they don't fall.
There are two churches. One is big, beautiful, with high spiralling towers, arches, ornately carved statues around the outside, bright paint and metallic trim. It's by the edge of the road and has a large yard full of blooming and well-maintained flowers. It's corrupted and beautiful and daunting and it's where we have to haul all the boxes into.
And then we have to walk around to the back where the second church is, crowded against the ally. It's small. Wooden. A shack really. It's where the slaves go to worship. All the slaves. The field slaves and the domestic slaves and even the few factory slaves that are in this part of town. Obviously it's not the only slave church, just the one for this little area. The children are separated from the adults and have to sit in ten long rows across the front. The adults sit in the back. We set it up so that the domestic slave children who are all alone where they live sit at the back row where the children and the adults are together. And whoever is at the front can hold and cuddle the kids through the weight of the sermon.
And that's where we're sitting now. The darkness and the stuffy air of the church is almost comforting somehow, as it provides a distraction to the the hard words of the priest. On my lap there is Avelen, a child who is not quite a boy or a girl, and has a thick mop of curly hair and a brightness to their deep shadow eyes. On either side of me are Arjeni and Iulio, and they're holding Davelen and Descartes. Sweet children, all of them. Children we savour as much as we can for the brief moments we can.
The preacher's voice is angry. Bellowing. He is a Towerperson and an emotional sadist.
"The Fates are great! They are wise. They are the ones who ladle out the glories of the world! They live, they rule, and they grow. They grow on and on into eternity and each and every year their rule gets solidified and stronger. We learn from them as they are our prophets and teachers. And what they say is right and good.
"The Fates saw the way of the world and all its inhabitants. They saw the great and glorious civilizations of the Towerpeople. They saw how intelligent we were, how rational. They saw how mighty we were, how powerful. They saw how civilized we were. How wise. How kind. How benevolent. How organized. They looked into our souls and saw the depths of what we knew, The depths of what we were. And they realized that we were the ones were with the divine and sacred right to rule. We were the ones who could bring order and peace to the world.
"But any ruler needs people to rule over, and the Fates recognized this. They also saw the dirtpeople existing in the world. They saw into your hearts and your souls. The dirtpeople are lesser beings. You are not fit to stand tall and unbowed, to walk through the world as free people. Because you are violent and destructive. You are unable to see reason. Slow and stupid and devoid of all wisdom. You are unable to solve your petty quarrels and grievances. Without our benevolence and our rule you would descend into chaos and anarchy.
"And you were in chaos and anarchy in the days before the Great Restraining. Your lot was violent and destructive. The wars raged on and you brute beasts attacked innocent Towerpeople of good standing and caused trouble wherever you went.
"In those days the world was brand new and entirely undeveloped. Worming and writhing like a fruit fly larva. The chaos and violence of the primitive order was held together by a great and horrific artifact. It was a box, blood red, deep within the abyssal and vast wilderness. Within it was the uncultured barbarism of the dirtpeople, given form.
"The great Prince Audra was merely a young man, a young lord, a young god given human form really. He was born to the strength and wisdom of the Towerpeople. He looked out at the world and he saw the carnage and the destruction going on everywhere. He saw how the world was covered in thick, brutal wild lands rather than having been civilized and dominated. He was the man who first sought out the Fates.
"The Fates lived deep within his soul, his heart, deep within his faith and his greatness and his glory. Within his nerves of steel, there were the Fates. Within his everarching knowledge there were the Fates. Within his hard, logical mind undeterred by fanciful emotion there were the Fates. Within the clarity of his eyes, unobscured by clouds of fancy, there were the Fates. In his unwavering faith the Fates were there too. In his overwhelming desire, the way he wanted more and more and more and more, the Fates were there. The Fates were present in the way he wanted glory for his people, in the way he would protect and fight for his people at all costs. He was a beacon of light, and a pillar of perfect masculinity, and he knew that he had to bring order to the world.
"The Fates lived - and indeed live - in all the Towerpeople and connect us all. But they also live in and connect us to the Fateland. He journeyed within himself and through himself he reached the Fateland. There the Fates taught him how to unlock more power than he ever could imagine, and how to enthrone them in the power they've always deserved.
"The first Fate is the Fate of glory. The second Fate is the Fate of power. The third Fate is the Fate of beauty. And the fourth Fate is the Fate of joy.
"They taught Prince Audra where the box was. And he journeyed to go find it. He journeyed into the vast wilderness. Through the burning, blazing deserts. Through the bitter, biting tundra. Through the thick and dangerous forests. Through the dry and blowing grasslands. Over jagged, sharp mountains and across truly great rivers and deep lakes. Along stormy coastlines and deep inland. He sacrificed much time and used much skill on this journey. And he found the box, hidden away in the depths of the abyssal lands.
"It was gaping wide open out to the world. And from it flowed the most unholy, corrupt energy, bathing the world in its ungodliness.
"He took his steel-forged sword. And he plunged it into the writhing mass of energy. He infused all the powers of the Fates into it and thus the powers of the Fates defeated this evil power. The great mass of uncivilized and uncleared wilderness began to melt and bubble into a red liquid. The dirtpeople too, with all their savage ways, began to melt and bubble. Most of them perished right there, along with the wilds. Finally the land was cleared so that we might build great buildings, and towers, and all manner of productive things like factories and mines and plantations and farms and refineries and windmills and all manner of things. And finally, the dirtpeople were brought to heel.
"The first thing Prince Audra did, at the behest of the Fates, was to close the box and secret it away in a place in which no-one would ever be able to retrieve it. And the second thing he did was to ask the Fates what to do with the dirtpeople who survived the great dying. The Fates said that the dirtpeople were inherently dangerous and needed to be kept under control and under heel. They said that given any chance, the dirtpeople would cause chaos and destruction. The only way to live with them was to rule over them, and to keep them in their place. Also They told Prince Audra, that the dirtpeople owed us an eternal debt of gratitude. And they do. Because without Prince Audra to put them under control, the dirtpeople would have all killed each other in their endless barbarity. And they would. And that is why you owe us an eternal debt of gratitude, and you owe us your loyalty and your diligence and your respect.
"And you must always ensure to show us your gratitude, because if it wasn't for us you would not be here to this day.
"And thus it was that the order was established. The people lifted Prince Audra up as their king and their emperor and they built the Domain Everlasting.
"And so thus it was, thus it is, thus it always will be."
"And so thus is was," we wearily repeat, "thus it is, and thus it always will be."
I always hate this story so much. It's not the story we always hear in church but it shows up pretty often. I hate all the stories so much. They put my heart and my lungs and my throat and my soul through a grater and leave me to pick up the bleeding pieces. It was so much worse when I was a child. When I was alone. When church was one of the only times I could see other people who cared for me.
I hug Avelen tight, stroke my hand through their hair. They are young. They are alone. They are alone. And I try to make the most of every single second I could possibly have with them but it's never nearly enough.
After the service most of the slaves will be sent back to their work but the domestic slaves, including Avelen, will have to wait on the Towerpeople during their Wednesday festivities. At least that means I'll get more time with them.
————
I'm a little bit out of it after a Wednesday. I always am. The church service. Watching the Towerpeople sit around and dance and chat idly as the order around our children and us and we have to be silent and obedient and "respectful" as we rush around fulfilling their orders. Trying to help the children without parents as much as we could. Sending as many smiles and reassurances and words of kindness and secret hugs and subtle hair ruffles as we could their way. I always missed the children so incredibly much at the end of Wednesday. Because I know what hell they are going back to. So I - we - hold them as much as we can for as long as we can. But it is never enough.
"Mama?" I hear Pavlin ask Lilith in a serious voice, as pressing as the river's currents.
"What?"
"We have to fight the Fates." My eyes go wide at this. I bolt up. What Pavlin is suggesting is incredibly dangerous.
"Pavlin, no," I say. "I want to say yes. I really do. But I can't. We can't do that."
"Well why can't we?" Mafalia asks. Oh fuck is she in this too? "You say we strong."
"Mafalia, sweetheart, calm down. You can't just ... you can't just do anything you want. Kids, we're not strong enough to fight them. Don't speak of this." Anderei's voice is low and guarded.
"But we can be though. You feel it too?" Levi's voice is like a summer day. And honestly why am I inclined to agree? Hope is a good thing. I'm not denying that. But it's good in small portions. Too much hope is incredibly dangerous. But I do feel it. I do feel it and I can't stop.
"I know you mean well Levi. But you have to be realistic. You have to be careful. Be safe. And you all have to understand that some things are too powerful to go up against." Katapa sounds like it's hurting her to say this.
"Andronicha. You've always been the voice of reason. Explain to your siblings why this is impossible." Lilith's voice has the tiniest hint of a dark edge to it. This situation is spiralling out of control.
Andronicha is silent for a few minutes before finally saying, "No, I know they're right. I don't care what you say." And I don't know what to say to that. She seems so quietly, ethereally certain.
Katapa and Lilith start talking at once and I can feel the way that the tension in the room is rising. They're protective, so protective. But the situation is slipping out of control. I have to do something.
"Everyone" I assert with a bit of volume, "let's just change the topic. Let's go to sleep. Adults, shut the fuck up. Mafalia, think of how you would make your spiderweb if you were a spider. What secret messages would you put in it? Where would it be? Pavlin, think of Azemi, I know you saw him at church today. I saw you guys talking behind the dogwood tree. You were laughing. Levi, think of where you would fly to if you were a bird. Who would you go visit? What would you say to them? How would you stay hidden? Andronicha make up a song. A soft, sweet melody and strong words. Sing it to us the next day when we all have time to listen. We will talk about this later, children. It's time for you to go to sleep."
Nobody says anything. I stroke Levi's hair. In a few minutes his breathing evens out.
"Let's hope they forget about this by the morning," Kata whispers.
Part of me agrees with that. But part of me doesn't. Part of me is amazed by their daringness. Their boldness. Their soaring confidence. I hope beyond hope, secretly, in a corner of my mind hidden from even myself, that they are right.
————-
The next morning they do forget though. Or at least they keep it secretly to themselves. We work, as we have to. We suffer. We love. One day a few days later we are lying down to go to sleep.
"Aunt Kata?" Pavlin asks in a small voice.
"What, baby?"
"Sometimes it feels like Misstress Sophie is my mom."
"Why does it feel like that?"
"Because. I have to go and try to make her happy. Be in her house. Have to listen to her. She's always being around and about. It's too trippy."
"I understand." The conversation keeps flowing though out of my attention as Andronicha starts talking to me.
"Aunt Nan," she whispers, "I think I know a way to sneak some treats to our people. We can go into the pantry when we are told to and hide it in our clothes. We won't even get caught. We can share it with people."
"Andronicha, you have to be very careful."
"Daddy," Levi starts from across the room, "have you ever seen an eclipse? I haven't seen one but I've heard stories."
"I have. You will too."
"So is it true what they say? Is it true that during when an eclipse happens that it's a sign of something great?"
"It is, son."
"Mama, mama, hug me tighter," Mafalia whispers into the dark.
"I don't have energy."
"Mama you have to keep me safe from all the monsters that walk around and are going in the shadows. Or else they will get me to eat. With their teeth. And then we'll all be sad."
"Okay. I'll protect you."192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG0hDz6mZQK
————
It's another morning. It's another war. But something is different about today. I can't help but feel all-consuming dread wash over me and through me as I trudge up the stairs.
I work. And besides the screaming, dripping sense of panic I normally feel at the threat of not doing the job right, I also feel this inexplicable dread that poisons every part of me and is heavy like lead. Why? I almost don't want to know.
Suddenly Sir Niamus bursts in, startling me as I almost drop my broom. Ugh what does he want?
"Listen my father was feeling merciful today. You get to say goodbye. Come with me."
I don't dare to talk, I just silently follow. But I'm both terrified and confused. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? Who am I going to never see again?
When I was a little girl, on my own in their mansion, I had to teach myself not to cry. The adults, the Towerpeople who towered over my terrified little form, didn't allow tears because they didn't like our kind complaining about our lot in life. So I don't cry now. But I really really want to cry right now and I almost do. Niamus is looking forward, head held high.
I get lead into the courtyard, the small one towards the back of the house, not the big one. It's dark brown and dusty. Katapa's already there, eyes wide and filled with worry. I rush over to her, press her body into mine. Our foreheads are touching, then our lips. She's my one and only, my knight in shining armour, and I'm hers.
"Is it you?" She asks, eyes desperately searching. I shake my head. The fact that she asked means it's not her either. I'm glad it's not her but not relieved, because that means it's someone else.
Anderei and Lilith are lead in next. Is it one of them? Oh universe, the children will be so incredibly heartbroken. The four of us hug for a long time. Arms around each other, foreheads pressed in cheeks, cheeks pressed on shoulders. It's soft and close and under any other circumstances it would've brought even a twinge of comfort. But not now.
"Is it one of you?" I ask. They shake their heads. Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh universe. My heart drops in my chest. Oh fuck. This is the worst possible outcome. It's one of the kids. Why? Why would they do that? I know why. But ... this is unimaginable cruelty.
We all stare at each other in mute horror. They can't be selling one of the kids. They just can't. They can't they can't they can't. But they are.
They're going to take one, maybe multiple of the sweet, darling, sensitive, young children. They're going to rip them out of the arms of their family, out of the arms of the people who raised them, the people who love them. The grief that happens to a child far from their family is unquantifiable. They're going to send them, alone and terrified, and missing their parents, into a foreign, unfamiliar situation. And they're going to drop those lovely, scared, forsaken children all alone into the middle of the Towerpeoples' private lives. They'll be face to face, day in and day out, with how they're considered less, how they'll always be considered less, I know that's what will happen it's what happened to all of us.
Anderei and Lilith and Katapa are crying. I wonder if I am. I bring my fingers to my eyes. Nothing. The rage and betrayal and the agony twisting inside of me sits cold and hard and tightly coiled like a monster of the deep.
/I'll kill them all,/ I promise myself. But I know it's a promise I can't keep.
Katapa looks at me like she can read my thoughts. And she welcomes them.
Pavlin comes first. Then it's Andronicha. Then Levi. Then Mafalia. Their wide, overly large eyes are glistening with tears. We hug them, desperately. I don't quite know what's going on but there are hands drying the soft shine of tears from the sparkles of cheeks, hands in the darkness of hair, hands wrapped over shoulders.
"I don't want to go I don't want to go I don't want to go." Mafalia is crying, her baby-round, cinnamon-brown cheeks messy with tears. I remember that she's four. Far too young. Far, far too young. She hugs Lilith, seeking as much warmth and affection as her mother can give her before she's finally pulled away. She clings to us as much as she can. And it's not enough. She's so soft, like a baby bird. Like a baby bird being pushed out of her nest.
"Baby. Baby I don't want you to go either. I'll love you no matter what." Lilith rubs a hand through the child's hair. She hugs each one of her children, tells them how much she will miss them.
"I love you guys, I love all you guys so much." Katapa is repeating these words almost frantically as she looks into each child's eyes. It's desperate. She's desperate. These kids aren't biologically hers. But they're her sun, moon and stars all rolled into one.
Pavlin's thoughtful eyes look defeated. On the outside. On the inside, under the surface, they're the moment right before heat becomes fire. Hope and anger and indignation all rolled into one. They are swearing, in the deep parts of them that they don't even have access to, that they will have their revenge. One day. It's a promise they can't keep.
"I see you. I'll always see you. No matter where you are, darling." I whisper into their ear after I kiss their cheek.
Andronicha is the angriest though. Andronicha's rage isn't buried under layers and layers of defeat and pretend-acceptance. It burns though all parts of her, tangled with the grief and fear and while her mouth is set in a hard, painfully maintained frown, her dark eyes expressing the fact that she is screaming inside. I don't think I have ever seen her like this before.
"Andronicha don't ever let them take your rage. Or your pride." I dry her tears with the tips of my fingers.
Levi. Sweet Levi. He's sort of gone stiff. He doesn't say anything. Doesn't do anything. I can tell that there's so much he wants to say. So much he wants to do. But he can't. This is just too devastating. I can show him that he's loved. I hug him tight. I hug and kiss and reassure and love and say goodbye to each and every one of them. Levi hugs me back and I can tell that he wants so badly to cry.
"I'll always think of you, forever for as long as I exist." I tell him.
I have to give them something that would tide them over even if it's just a tiny bit. Suddenly I ... I don't know what happens. It's like my whole body is filled with this, this light feathery force that's pushing me forwards and I just can't describe it.
We all embrace and hug and kiss and talk to each child in turns. Over and over and over. Frantically. It's not enough. It's not nearly enough.
"Guys. They're going to say things to you, do things to you, that hurt. I'm not going to deny that. But you will never ever deserve the way they treat you. Each and every one of you is wonderful, magical, and just as good as anyone else is. It doesn't matter what they think. Your mom and dad and Aunt Kata and I all love you so much. And you deserve to be loved more than the moon. You deserve to be treated well. We'll miss you so terribly every day for the rest of our lives."
Everyone stares at me with wide eyes. Saying "I want you to be treated well" is one thing but saying "you deserve to be treated well," is something that's, well, too rebellious to say out loud. In the company of the masters. But their eyes are shining. The tiniest twinge of ... some strange sense of victory ... seems strung into their grief.
"She's right you know," Katapa says solemnly, on her knees and hugging each child in turns.
"I know," Mafalia states simply.
"Yeah." Pavlin's voice is lead-heavy.
"I'll remember." Andronicha's voice is ember-hot.
Levi just gives a watery almost-smile and I give him one back.
Greif, greif, wild greif defines these next moments. And the desperate need to press all of my love into the hands of my children before they're dragged into a circle of Hell even lower than the circle they were already in. Before they're dragged into the circle I grew up in. Alone. In a world of adults who thought they were above me, thought I wasn't human. But such is the cycle. Towerpeople prefer having their child labour to be isolated and terrified. It's easier to get them to be productive and obedient that way.
I cling to my children as much as I can.
And then they're torn screaming from our arms by cruel, fat hands and glaring, towering figures and I collapse into the ground, all the energy having left me. It is a sunny day. But it feels like the beginning of a horrible storm. Or maybe the storm rages inside me.
——
I move through the rest of the day completely drowned in the swirling currents of my greif. Water, water, water. Lodged in my throat, in my lungs. Not really. But that's what it feels like. And obviously I am still forced to work though my nerves feel frayed, flayed, and every part is screaming. You always have to work, no matter what. And the work is so degrading, dehumanizing, always. Fuck it. Fuck it all damn it all to Hell damn /them/ all to Hell give us our goddamn respect back.
———
Settling down to sleep ... feels ... so so so much more empty than it usually did, without the children to give our warmth to. I lay with my back to Lilith, my fingers intertwined with Katapa. And I cry. Not for myself. But because I know what it is like growing up far from your parents. I had grown up far from my parents. I had been a small shadow of a child when Niamus had been a young son, a young and glaring sun, in this mausoleum of a house.
192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMFFE7Ejg5J
192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvPfWdDkSAZ
[Author's Note: If you like this piece check out my Mastodon my account is FSairuv@mas.to and I post about human rights, social justice, and the environment.]
192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtyOtaEtqoD
192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwg4Aw1SXyf
192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwUEddF3eaF
and then Add to home screen.