Time to Go

Time to Go

‘To see dreams in fire, and fire in dreams,

Daunting tasks filled with hopelessness,

I,

Wander the woods like a haunted child.

For within the forest,

A werewolf lies,

A monster who’s committed a thousand crimes.

But he knows a truth,

That neither you nor I,

Would hope to see in shallow pools,

For we fear the monster that lies beneath.’

Kaida finished singing as the twilight dwindled, ushering in starlight. She looked at Shakhaz, who sat weaving on the other side of the cave.

‘Well?’ she asked expectantly.

He methodically put the reed mat he was making aside and looked at her seriously.

‘I didn’t get it.’

‘You didn’t what?’

‘I didn’t get it.’ He reiterated.

‘Songs aren’t supposed to make sense.’

‘On the contrary, they’re supposed to have meanings that show listeners a deep truth. I cannot make any sense of what you just said.’ He took up his weaving again.

Kaida’s face burned. She had actually been quite proud of her poem. But here Shakhaz had come and ruined it, like he always did.

It was what made Shakhaz, didn’t it?

She walked outside the cave, for she couldn’t bear to stay with Shakhaz and his calmness. The soil was moist under her feet, little stones pinching her skin, but it had been a long time since she had given a damn to hurt, for it was simply hurt.

If only that were true when it came to him, she thought desperately.

The stars gleamed, just like the plates she polished till they glistened. The color of the dark blue sky looked like the color of his pouch that she had darned many times over. Everything reminded her of him, but she doubted that he had even thought of her since the day he had found her. Or even really looked at her.

She didn't have a bad looking face, she could say that much. She had curly brown hair and teal skin, her brown eyes bright and cheerful. But Shakhaz looked at her without really looking, as if her features were painful to look at. He often seemed to be holding back acid things he so badly wanted to say.

But he didn't, for that would be a real person with feelings, not Shakhaz.

It was okay, though. She had to be grateful to Shakhaz for taking her in. He was wiser than she was.

‘Had to’ being the imperative word.

She took him for granted, she had to work harder.

Work harder for a man who doesn’t give a damn about you.

Even if he might have seen more life than her, she had a longer memory, a memory that stretched back to when he had a warm smile, when running away to caves in mountains was a mystical dream. It wasn’t any more, though.

When people threw stones and called her a witch, she had stumbled through darkness, regretting life’s decisions. When helping small children made you a witch, what could you do, but run? She had always been an outcast, for she was an orphan.

'Weren't orphans supposed to be pitied,' you ask.

Not when your parents were misfits. You were tolerated, and that was as good as you could get. Even if that hurt, who cares? One was used to that life.

But they had really turned her out now, their boiling resentment had overflowed, and they could be hospitable no more.

A cave with a lonely sprite was now her haven, a place she could finally call home. A home that watched you with dull eyes and tolerated efforts that you made. A home that disagreed with your every opinion, but a home nonetheless.

If he didn’t care, would he care if she walked out? She would. She could.

Could she?

She turned and went in. ‘Shakhaz?’ she called out.

Shakhaz stared at her with his blue eyes that once enchanted hers, but now looked past her, as if she wasn’t there. He was shorter than her, and older too, which made her less intelligent, didn't it? He had been handsome once, with walnut skin and a bubbly laugh, as if he might actually be a sprite. Now he was just a shadow of a human, with none of the joy and spark. Sometimes she just wanted to shake him out of his calmness, his methodical way of life.

But she didn't, for how could she?

‘What do you want?’

‘I need to-‘

‘Hold it. We need to get food. You haven’t made any.’

She bit her lip. She had, but it had all gone rotten. What else would happen if Shakhaz didn’t turn up?

They took their baskets and went out to pick berries, Shakhaz walking fast without looking back. On the way, she tripped and he glanced back, annoyed.

‘I’m sorry.’ He made no effort to reply.

‘So, I wanted to tell-‘

Shakhaz now tripped and slid down the bank. She dropped her basket and went to help him, but he slapped her hand away.

She turned away as he scrambled up, and they took up their journey, with him in front while Kaida walked behind, head down low. She was starting to have misgivings about whether she would be able to say goodbye. How were you supposed to say goodbye to a person who harbored such intense resentment against you?

She tried to bring up the subject again, but he held up a hand.

They walked further in silence, now walking along a dangerous path which was narrow, and a river gushing a long way down.

‘Be careful,’ she said quietly.

He turned around, scowling. ‘I’ll fall down, and you don’t need to help me.’ He said with hundred percent conviction.

But no sooner had he said it, he tumbled down.

‘Don’t help me.’ He called.

Was it an echo, or did he really say it?

She decided that she didn’t care.

She up and left quietly, because she finally knew that it was time to go.