A Magic Child
Everything falls down around me. The wind through the trees howls against my ears, lapping up against my entire prone body like- one of the those demons that were trapped with me for all those long hours. I suddenly gasp.
"What?" My head jerked around to face behind me what I knew must be an illusion. Why did these horrible curses never cease coming towards me, in their all-consuming desire to murder me with their knives, or their black poisons or snakes with long fangs . . . because . . . the Lord Serpent will never let me free of them. As long as I am to live my pathetic life of a Geisha Bat in the opposing manner of Geisha Bats, then I will never, ever be free to carry out nature . . . I will always be . . . some monster.
Slowly, I revolve to seek the voice of the tremulous crying. A baby with soft skin and dark, chocolate hair, wearing a seeming band around her head that offers magical vision, as her eyes of blue are recognizable lasers. The child is a King's elf, I think. King's elves are not supposed to cry. I sigh. The woods are darkly depressing with this squalling child, holding no food in it to fill our stomachs, an empty vastness which rings about my campfire in its small space like a vice. I shiver. The thought of a vice is ideal.
"Ma . . . maaan." Wishing that I could block her sound out, so that it would never be allowed again in my life, have no stronghold to grab, I walk over to the child. As I stop upon approaching to peer quietly at her, she giggles at me delightedly. "Ma . . . " She claps her small chubby hands with delight. I kneel down beside her, my long black hair falling over my face like some kind of furry robe. I don't anticipate her next move, and yell out in surprise when she grabs a large hunk of hair. The move is complemented by a resounding, 'yes!' that loudly clears the land like an echoing bell. Roughly I yank my overly-thick hair out of her reach.
"That's not going to work," I say sternly, my mouth dipping into a frown. The child quiets. I sigh. I study her more closely for several minutes, but do not attain any helpful hints about where she could have been reared. I tilt my head to gaze up at the stars, shining brightly down through the open part in the woods. If it is a dark child, then I am never going to know until I pick her up, making contact.
"Well . . . " I look dubiously down at her. "Here goes nothing." I reach down, pulling her swiftly into my arms, yet subconsciously not gripping her more tightly then I need to. I smile after a moment, and tuck her in closely. The child is not an offspring of those who live in darkness.
Soft music wafts through the wild plant life, rustling the leaves it seems to my tired eyes, causing me to relax with the girl I am holding. She rests her head against my black cloak, still damp from the rainwater in the cave I had been in. I watch as her eyes start to shut.
"Just sleep." I whisper. I push myself up against the rough, sinewy bark of a tree with a robust trunk that must make for good napping. I stare at the bark with dead eyes, willing myself into alertness. This makes a good nap only for the child, I tell myself resignedly. I drop my bundle gently from my hands, placing her at the very base of it on the grass.
You go every day. My mother's voice comes back to me from that day long ago passed. Why must you always go hunting? Poiseda, you know we have plenty. Her worried frown- until the curse, I had always loved being out in the forest. Now, I hate being in the woods.
I cannot think about the last few days. I will not think about the last few days. As the sun comes up in the morning, I will not be the one who is cursed. I will not carry it with me as one carries an ugly black cloud in their hip pocket, or at least those that use such awful methods of sorcery. Dark power. That is all the talk that I have ever heard my whole life. Talk of dark power. As though we live in that kingdom.
I was always told there was a greatness in me. I do not know where this greatness came from, and neither did those who called me a great, 'winged' prodigy.
I pulled it all up from the dark. I was a baby Geisha Bat when I was born, but, as I grew up, a dark force was inside me. I do not know exactly what it was. A weight that made my heart heavy that I could not see.
My eyes were always a deep, marble black from the time I came out of the womb. They were beautiful things, said my mother, like delicately-made black marble tabletops crafted by the most meticulous artist. That was what she said. Little did she know however, that these eyes would soon block out all the sunlight so that I would no longer be able to see the sunrise. That I would live in a world of shadowy darkness, forever, because of the darkness.
The dark power inside me. I was born with a dark power. Kind of like the root of some plant, ground up and used for a cooking ingredient, that turns black- like Rhubarb, which turns a dark red at least. Although I don't think you use root of Rhubarb. Well, who cares anyway? Even Rhubarb doesn't turn black. I can hardly think of a good analogy. I am the only one with a powdered, black root.
"Poiseda?" The child was again leveling me with her beautiful blue eyes. I stare. How is it that she can know my name, say it so terribly clearly? I lean close.
"What is it?" I know without question that this is a magical child. To my astonishment, she reaches up to me and grasps my head, then pulls it literally before her with a strength that such a child should never have at this age. I want desperately to wrench myself from her grasp, but for some reason I don't do it. I don't think that she will harm me, although I have no idea why I feel this way. Her lower lips slightly tremble as she whispers,"Poiseda, you have to pay them a visit."