The heart of Mendax

The heart of Mendax

The sun came up over the rooftops, peering its golden fingers over the world. At this time, few cars drove by on the generally busy roads. Mendax laid back against the cold wall, letting the first drops of sunlight fall on his face. If he listened closely, he could just overhear the sound of alarms nudging people awake, the birds starting to sing and the thousands of coffees being poured, something he would never understand, far too bitter for his tastes, too boring. He could already smell it coming from most apartments under his feet. He had wondered a multitude of times, how long it would take him to turn every bag of those beans in a mouse perhaps, or a pigeon. Though he knew better, it wouldn’t make anyone smile, it would scare, and he never wanted to do that again.

Mendax jumped from roof to roof, looking over the waking city, what a perfect day it was. Spring was barely breaking through the winter as the first signs of warmth came over. The trees barely wearing their leaves, the flowers only just gaining colour, this was his favourite day.

He watched as people started preparing pranks, mixing different ingredients in other’s food, putting dye in shampoos, pretending the lipstick on their necks are from an affair and more… he hated these sorts of things, nothing came of them, apart from pain, embarrassment, and sadness. He much preferred the harmless ones, the ones that make the pranked smile, the kind they will return next year and share laughs. He still remembered the time someone put a box on his girlfriends’ desk, she had been terrified to open it for hours, but when she finally did, there were only flowers in a hand-painted vase, she had simply pranked herself with fear.

He climbed down a fire escape and landed in front of a small window on the fourth floor, he stared back at his reflection; though he couldn’t age, he still seemed different from all those years ago: His black hair didn’t curl the same way anymore, his eyes darkened, and his clothes now strained against his muscles. He hadn’t realized that a child was looking up at him, what a fool he was to have forgotten that on this day, April first, humans could see him. Though it happened every year, being invisible for the other 364 days, always made him forget, even after six centuries. He couldn’t believe it had been that long, too long. How the other gods could stand being alive for so long was a mystery to him, that would explain why it was called the curse of immortality.

 He waved at the child, bright-eyed and full of curiosity. Adults would often be scared of him, or at least avoid him, but kids, with his bright coloured clothes, would be fascinated. He could see him running towards his door, knowing very well that it meant his parents would be here any moment. Mendax slipped out of sight and landed on the ground.

He walked around for hours, people staring at him, parents pulling their children closer to them. He didn’t particularly care though; he couldn’t change his appearance even if he wanted to. He kept his hands in his pockets, it might have been a weak form of protection, but it was the best he could do. He had tried gloves, though it didn’t seem to work. So he kept them close to his side, one holding on to the small, now rusted, silver necklace. It had shone brightly once, adorned with a small ballerina; he could remember it like it was yesterday: her hair tied in a tight bun on top of her thin face, the fabric of her skirt seemingly floating in the wind and her feet crossed pointed in tight shoes.

He sat on the bench closest to him, facing the sea, it seemed to stretch forever, through each city, high or low, even after all this time back when the skyscrapers were merely wooden houses, this was his favourite place. Even the view from every mountain, monument, every “most beautiful place I’ve ever seen”, didn’t compare to this simple one.

He watched as a kid started falling, and reluctantly let him hit the ground. Mendax’s mind was still scarred by the memory of the first time he had tried to help, the second he touched the child, he disappeared into confetti, colours fell all around him as all was left was his shoe that had fallen before. He could still hear the scream his mum had let out, demanding where her angel had gone, but he had no answer, he never had one for every “prank” his fingertips made. Countless items had transformed into something else, a cat into a balloon, a priceless watch into a plastic one, and more.

He sat back, cursing the gods, though they had called him one too, he never could carry the title. He couldn’t control his power as they did, he wasn’t beautiful, he wasn’t all-knowing. He was just a fool given powers as a curse. If he could rewind the years, he would knock out his past self, that idiot of a 17-year-old. The memories followed him; he could still see them vividly, no matter how much he prayed for them to stop…

Mendax, Ellery they still called him then, waited for twenty minutes, and as soon as Amanda left the room, he grabbed her necklace, slipped the pendant off, and replaced it with a crude symbol instead. He stood outside the window as she came back in and screamed his name. she ran outside to find him laughing at her, she ran towards trying to get her ballerina back. He avoided her easily, he had been used to people chasing after him, so he ran, and ran, till he arrived near the seaside. They stood on the cliff, he hadn’t realized that he ran here, he hadn’t been thinking. She took a step near him as he waved her jewellery. He laughed as his voice swept up with the wind, and he accidentally took a step back, almost losing his balance, one foot almost dangling over the edge. He sighed with relief and looked back at his hand, empty.

 Amanda screamed and lurched herself on the edge, he looked over, there was no sign of the silver dancer. He tried muttering an apology, but quicker than he expected she shoved him to the side, and caught off guard, he slipped, and he felt himself falling. He waited to crash into the water, to feel cold, wet and alone. But it never happened, as he finally opened his eyes, two white shoes stood in front of him. He sat up and realized wherever he was, he was far from home.

The rest was a blur, most things were after that moment. He could vaguely recall a man and woman standing over him. They were in a white room, he thought surely, he was dead, he must have been. He realized that his fist was closed around something, he opened his hand to find a chain, and he instantly recognized it, Amanda’s necklace. He had jumped up and searched his clothes and all around him for the ballerina, but it was nowhere to be seen. He now remembered falling, his hand catching on her jewellery as he did so, he must have broken it off her neck.

 The man and woman had told him he was now going to pay for the pain he had put countless people in, they proceeded to list all of them. Some he hadn’t even remembered, some he didn’t know that he had caused certain injuries, like Mr Danvers, he had spent all day cooking a pie that Mendax replaced with a different one, though he made the error of putting something he was allergic too, he didn’t die but was never the same again. After all, back then, even a small reaction was dangerous. At least that was the good thing about being immortal, he has seen the world grow into something completely different.

He was ripped out of his thoughts as a little girl came towards him, her golden hair fell on her shoulders and she looked at him with big blue eyes. She asked him his name and winced at the response and replied that hers was Mandy. “What are you doing here by yourself, Mandy?”

 “I make bracelets with my mum, over there” She pointed to a woman sitting on the bench with an array of jewellery made out of wool. He looked back at the girl and she was holding one of them, it had green and red threaded into black. “It reminded me of you, and so I know it was meant to be yours” Her eyes shone brightly against the sunlight, he tried refusing but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. He tried to move away as she grabbed his hand and dropped the bracelet in it. “yours” She danced off near her mum, Mendax couldn’t believe it, she, nor the bracelet had transformed, it hadn’t been ruined, for the first time in centuries. The only other thing that never broke was the chain, still in his pocket. He looked at her and saw something shinning around her neck, and he cried out to her “where did you get the ballerina?” She turned to face him and smiled “It’s a family heirloom”.

Perhaps he could still stand the next centuries to come.