The Spotted Boy

Staring at the mirror, I stood with a golden key around my neck, crying. I am a motherless orphan whom the other children called cow boy, because of the patches on my skin. The patches were white on dark–and worse, for had I been totally dark, it would have made no difference.

My mother was long dead. Her money could not save her. She was a baker before she passed, and wealthy too, and it would be sincere to say she made most of her dough from dough making.

The monastery boys were not in the habit of going to sleep in their habits… so when I retired in mine after the mirror session, Tad–my roommate–nudged me from his bed with a mop stick.

“What?” I asked irritatedly.

“You must be looking for a flogging, August, sleeping in your habits like that.”

I ignored him, and he prodded me again, as one would a sleepy cow. Tad was my only friend because he was black, and the other kids also picked on him. His calling me August was a mere nicety because the other kids simply called me Augustine the disgusting. I tried to get them to call me Leo once, which I said was short for Leopard. It did not work anyway, and when the leper jokes began, I had to request Master’s intervention.

“Are you prepared for tomorrow?” Tad asked. The moniker was a truncated version of Tadpole.

“Everyone will see my skin, Tad?” I sniffed. “And they will laugh.”

I felt Tad’s stick tap my buttocks and rolled over. He grinned.

“I stick it to you that if you do not stick up for your comrades, then I shall stick this here stick up your sorry rectum. I hope my message sticks.”

I could hardly hold it back. I burst into laughter, spraying the bed with my nose juices. Tad’s impression of Master was spot on, although blasphemous. I always found inappropriate things quite funny.

“Before you sleep, remember who we are. It is our strength and only consolation.”

My head hit the pillow again, and I remembered. I was nobody.

The next day, Master woke us. If he had any objections to my sleeping arrangement, he did not show. He gave Tad and me two boots and told me to meet him in his office. My boot was snug and warm, and quite fashionable to boot.

“Don’t forget to look in the mirror, August!” Tad said, leaving the room. I thanked him and ran to steal a quick glance at my checkered face. I saw my mother instead, and she was grey.

“Ah!” I fell back, checking if Tad had seen her too, but he was already gone.

“Augustine,” mother’s ghost said as I regained balance. “Embark on this trip with caution and trip. Embark on this trip without caution, and trip.”

I cried when she vanished. She was the one who taught me that game, how to mince words and make word soup. It was just like the time she told me: “Fail to boil water for your bath and like your uncle Cyrus, you shall one day wake up with a nasty boil.”

As I got up, one of the smaller kids burst into my room. He said, “Disgusting boy, Master awaits you in his chamber.” Then he ran off. I kept mother’s words in my heart before leaving, and as I left for Master’s chamber, a popular monastery guard waved at me. I heard the monastery bell ring.

“We meet again, spotted one. How do you do, boy?”

“I don’t do boys,” I retorted and walked away.

Although I was Master’s page and servant boy, we were rarely on the same page. This was because I constantly soiled his language books, and they were seldom cheap.

As I passed by the bell tower, the bell rang a second time. My heart started to pound, and I ran for the tower door. The bells were only to be rung twice in times of danger. I wanted a crisis, so I ran with hope. Any crisis would be acceptable. It would surely sabotage the parade.

I pushed open the tower door, and something shot out, trying to stab me. I ducked, and it hit the door’s wooden frame instead.

“What is that?” A kid screamed from behind me. It made him sound like a real kid. A baby goat. “Oh, God…”

The monster in the tower socked me in the stomach, flinging me into the street. Then it went for the little boy. As I watched, I heard my mother’s voice in my head. She spoke to four-year-old me as I sat in my soapy bathtub.

“I told him it was time, so he went and tolled the bell.”

“And what did the bell say, mama?”

Blood flew everywhere as the monster ravaged and tore at the boy. It did not eat, and when it was finished, it ran for an approaching group of boys. I should have warned them, gave them a heads-up. However, I wanted to see their heads go up, for they were my tormentors. The ones who called me cow boy and disgusting. I wanted to see them die, and the monster was the right appendage.

But my eyes widened in horror when, as the creature reached the boys, it withdrew from itself and became two. Embark on this trip with caution and trip. I know, mother. Henceforth, I shall tread lightly. I ran as the monsters ripped flesh behind me. I ran to find him. Boys screamed as fear filled the air, and when I saw Master, he had this distinctive air of confidence, as if he could somehow save us from our new predicament.

I remember escorting Master to a friend’s house. It was the first time I left the monastery after my salvation. I remember how Master stole me from death’s grip. Augustine used to be very disgusting, but he made me August, and I saw sounds and heard smells. I began to live.

The house we visited was a big one, just like my mother used to have, right before her very own brothers killed her to steal her estate. A single woman lived there, and she was Master’s secret friend. She was black–like me before the spots–and she had once been a slave.

This woman welcomed us with a cordial greeting and a frothing bottle of what she called palm wine, which made Master very cordial indeed. After drinking, we sat on a mat, wavering around a small covered pot. This clay pot was unique. It had a gold lock on its side, where one could slide in a key.

“Keep it at the lowest of the highest point,” the hag had said to Master. “And your highest of your enemies shall become your low.”

She gave us the key, a small golden one, and Master put it around my neck. We left with the pot, and I have never seen that woman since.

My new boots pounded on the cobblestone pathway as I ran to meet Master. Some of the older kids hovered around him, waiting to be led–like sheep.

“I saw them,” I yelled. “I saw the monsters!”

None of them answered me. Master strolled calmly towards me and placed his hands on my shoulders.

“What did they look like?”

I paused, realizing they had no distinctive form.

“Their arms and legs are long and sharp,” I eventually said. “And they are back there…”

At that moment, four men marched up to us. Three of them were soldiers of the royal cross, and one of our monastery guards was the vanguard.

“Master Reed,” the man announced. “The elders have sent some men to assist with the containment.”

I wiggled my nose. The adults all looked calm and coolheaded. They must have known this was going to happen. Master sent the other boys away on some faux errand, and then he addressed the men.

“We cannot see them,” Master said. “But gold is their weakness.”

“Explain,” said the biggest of the cross soldiers.

Master told them their metal swords would be useless, and they would need to arm themselves with golden weapons. Our guard offered to take them to the armory, and Master pulled me aside.

“Augustine, you must listen carefully,” he said.

“What is happening, Master? Why did you say we cannot see the monsters?”

“Only you can see them.” He put his hand on the key around my neck. “And it is all because of this.”

“But–”

“Quiet!”

A few feet away, a boy was screaming. It felt like his soul was being pulled out of him, strip by strip. Master and I ran into a nearby alley, and one of them ran past. Our backs were on the icy wall, and mother whispered comforting words to me.

“Run to the armory,” Master said when the street grew quiet. “Find the guards and stay with them. I need to get something.”

We slinked out afterward, and as I ran, the key slapped against my chest. Master ran back into the tumult, heading for the tower where it all began.

“Do not trust that man,” Mother said to me, and I froze.

“What do you mean?”

“He has been corrupted. Find the guards and get yourself a weapon.”

A fire had broken out in the distance, and ashes were falling from the sky when I reached the armory. About twenty cross soldiers toddled about, looking cross. The gold weapons they held looked more ornamental than practical. I ran up to the big soldier from before. He had a large golden sword strapped to his waist, and it was different.

“What do we have here?” The man said and turned around. He saw me staring at his sword.

“Try to nick this sword, child, and I shall nick you with my dagger, which I can assure you, cuts acutely.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” I replied.

The man spat on the floor and turned to address his men.

“Men, pick up your arms and hold them dear, for if you lose them, you will have neither an arm to pick with nor arms of which to pick.”

The men burst into laughter. They grabbed their weapons, hoisted them, and stabbed at the sky, all the while chanting.

“I need a sword too,” I said. “Master Reed sent me to get one for him.”

Before anyone could answer me, a sound came from the roof of the armory, and we all looked up. I saw the monster dive to the right, so I went left. The men did not see, but it did not matter. It was too late.

“Run!” yelled my mother. But I was tired of running. I dashed forward as limbs flew over and grabbed a sword. Its previous owner had already turned the corner.

The creature swiveled to face me. It had destroyed all the surrounding men. It stared at me with black eyes, shrieked, and then ran.

“Augustine!”

I looked back and saw my master. The clay pot was in his hand, and the golden lock on its side glistened. I let the sword fall and ran to meet him.

Master set the pot on the floor and produced a small pouch from within his robe.

“Stay still.”

He scooped out brown mud from the pouch and smeared it all over my body, concealing the white. When my arms, face, and neck were no longer visible, he draped his hooded robe around my shoulders.

“The river,” he said. “Take the pot there and follow those escaping. She will meet you on the other side. She will tell you how to stop this.”

“Why are they here; those things?”

Master sighed. “I cannot explain right now. You must leave. When you get to the other bank, you open the pot with the key, okay?”

“TAKE IT AND LEAVE NOW, AUGUSTINE!” mother’s voice exploded in my brain. I grimaced.

“Are you okay,” Master asked, drawing closer.

I picked up the pot and nodded. Then I sprinted in the river’s direction, which was where my master rescued me. I used to beg for food there. I was a segregated kind of beggar because the other weasels refused to associate with me. The air grew thick. I ran down the monastery stairs as smoke flew up behind me, and as I shouldered past a crowd of boys at the gate, I heard the explosion. It rumbled in my chest, watering my lungs.

Master Reed’s head dropped in front of me, bounced once, and then stopped. I screamed, and the ground began to rip apart. Monsters came crawling out of the newly created fissures.

“Enough!” I screamed, smashing the clay pot onto the wobbling floor. It shattered with a shrill hiss. I tore off my robe, ignoring the white smoke billowing about my legs.

“Dead!” a bird came from the smoke and squawked. It fluttered into the atmosphere. “Dead-dead-dead.”

The boys screamed, but I could not hear them. The monsters were countless, and they attacked without remorse. Was this the world ending? At a standstill, does one stand still until the others stand by him? Does one remain standing when his social standing is at stake, and he does not know how much he will be able to stand? Where did I stand in all this? I was the outcast, not fully human, not fully monster. What do I stand for?

I wiped away the mud, exposing my spots.

“You are beautiful,” cried mother. “And I beheaded that man before he could send you to your death.”

“Why?”

“The crow had been accursed, and once you had crossed the river…”

“I am the only one that can stop it,” I said, feeling her thoughts course through me. “He tied my soul to them when he did the curse.”

“Yes, and now you can dance and be free.”

I took off the black robe and wiped down my arms with it. My shirt and belt came off next. The creatures drifted past me, wreaking havoc, ignoring me. They knew. But this madness must be stopped, and if we did not forgive, no side would be the better.

I was naked as I knelt on the bloodied pathway. My hands flew skyward and I started to sing. As an organ of peculiarity, I sang the sweetest song I could, with the largest organ in my body. I pleaded and scolded, slighted, and cried. And in the end, they listened to the disgusting one.

When we look into the mirror, what do we see? Another dimension, another we. Who is fake, and who is real? And who will take the blame for we? Mirror mirror on the wall, whose only enemy is a fall. Shards too little to show the true. Yet large enough to reflect colors. Even blue. Even blue.

The abnormalities stopped killing, and together, they filed back into their holes, telling me they had forgiven the hypocrites.

“You have grown,” mother said. “Now I shall lead you to my family, to claim what is rightfully yours.”

“I want no riches, mother, only to see your face again.”

“You have, my son. You have.”

Then I reflected, seeing the monster as it left me by the armory. Knowing.

“And if they refuse you, summon us, and we shall always support.”

My sensitive skin got burnt under the sun as I strolled. All my time under the hot monastery sun had made it irritated by default. Still, I must be proud of my body, no matter how many colors it had. For it is the only thing I have left. It is the only thing I have left.