My Precious Existence and I

I wasn't that much older than he was at the time. He was so small, barely reaching my shoulder in size. Often he'd grumble to me about how he'd be bigger and stronger than anyone else in the whole wide world, all because I'd make a little fun out of him every now and again. He was my everything, and I was his. He knew we weren’t the same and that nothing could ever fix that, but despite the unavoidable truth, he found a sister in me. However even so, the reality that I knew was nothing compared to the fallacy he was led to believe.

Like beaming rays of sunlight upon passionately, vibrant lilacs, he’d be the warmth that surrounds your entire being in the heart of spring. Kind and ambitious this boy stood with his head held high, always craving for a new adventure. While I was nothing more than a frozen lake, reflecting the dauntless moonlight onto a few, pure orchids. I was often misunderstood by others for being arrogant and rude, but it truly didn't matter to me so long as I had my precious little brother. Whatever I did, I did for him. Whatever he wanted, I'd try for him. I’d even attempt underhanded methods in order to gain the things he wished so badly on shooting stars for. I could only do this for him and him alone. He knew this like a fact, but never once had he tried to abuse this power of his.

Our days together were spent spontaneously, neither of us knew what would arise the next day. Hunting for wild fawns or stealing eggs from unguarded chicken coops, getting a whack for being filthy miscreants or having our cheeks pinched by the local elders, climbing up the highest trees or swimming in the deepest lakes. He’d always find something new for us to do. But funnily enough, there was always one consistent event. Before he'd fall asleep every night he'd whisper in a daze, “Sissy… can we… see Mama and Dada… tomorrow..?” I didn't have the heart to tell the young boy in front of me the truth. So all I could do was caress his bird's nest of a hair and carefully reply, “when dusk comes to dawn, we will go visit their grave underneath the chestnut tree.” With an exhausted chirp, a single, “Yay…” and he’d drift into a world of slumber.

I have this one fond memory of us that I’d often reminisce on. Our path was covered in pink, waist-high, wispy grass in mid June- no I think it was a little later than that. His tiny, stubby fingers found a place on the helm of his shirt, lifting the fresh hazelnuts that we collected not too long before. Muttering his little numbers as he counts his beloved findings. "7… 8… 10... 26... 99... 1000..? Huh..? 1... 2... 4..." Although he was messing up quite a bit, I refrained from correcting him and sullying his fun. Our steps were slow, barely making distance, but even so, it was comforting. I indulged myself in these moments, hoping they'd last until the end of time.

"Sissy! Sissy! Hey Sissy," his voice was like a chirping bird, his eyes sparkling in anticipation to exclaim his newest ideas and thoughts. To juxtapose his frenzy I calmly responded with a sound, "mn?"

"I have a friend! And he told me that- that the yellow, fluffy flowers hide fairies! I want to see them! Can I see them?? Are they also yellow and fluffy??? Maybe their green and red and blue! I like blue..." I chuckled at his imagination with feigned curiosity. I bend down to meet his eyes, "really? That's crazy! We should go find them tomorrow!" He dropped so many hazelnuts frantically jumping up and down, but did he ever notice? No, not at all. Haha… It was far too cute.

"Hey Sissy?"

"Yes?"

"What are fairies?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Years passed, ‘Sissy’ turned into ‘Sister’, ‘Mama and Dada’ turned into no more. I started to believe my nurtured ways of fostering this child was the wrong approach. Often, he'd come home with a copious amount of scraps and bruises, I could've even sworn to God that there was an attempt on his life at some point. He was too kind, ever so modest and never dared to cry for help. I often tried to coax him into letting me see into his fraying heart, however, even daring to nurse his wounds would cause his emotions to stir. Then alas, I'm left with a clammed up adolescent, all reluctant and anxious as I try to tend to him as painlessly as possible. During those days, our conversations would only get shorter and shorter and he would arrive home later and later. Nonetheless, I’d stay awake fretting awful thoughts. What if he'd fallen victim and gotten hurt from some torturous prank that the neighbourhood kids conjured up? Maybe he'd been laughed at and abandoned soon after being pushed into a polluted, murky lake? Could he possibly be getting beaten black and blue as I stand waiting for him by the door? These thoughts haunted me for many, many moon cycles.

Then one day, he sat motionlessly at the table whispering with such low energy, “Sister… Why am I- why am I like this?” I was so shocked by this sudden question. I mean, he hadn't talked to me for so long. I couldn't help but to whip my whole body around, allowing myself to face him. In a lukewarm tone, I responded, “what do you mean?” His eyes resembling ink shifted all around, avoiding mine as if they were to meet for a second, he’d be turned to stone. “I-I-I…” he was never one to stutter at that age, the slight echo in his words caused my breath to hitch as my chest ached. I instinctively knew that the situation was far worse than all of my previously thought up scenarios.

“You said it was normal… a-and that I'm just the same as everyone else minus just a few things with my appearance. You promised that these- these weird, white patches on my tanned skin were common. So why haven't I seen anyone else like me?!” His young, handsome face seeped red as it became distorted under sorrowful tears. He continued, “... I hurt someone. I-I promise I didn’t m-mean to, I just- I just- I was so mad and frustrated..! He said that I was a freak, and that I'm like some old man who bathes with the pigs. I don't know why he said that. I mean, it's not just him either. Everyone puts their 2 cents in as if I'm some fucking money box! Calling me a mutant, a disgusting monster, a cow wannabe. They even ‘helped’ me remove the white strands from my head as they dragged me by my hair through town for everybody to witness,” He grinded his hands across his face, attempting to remove the concoction of tears and mucus that accumulated.

I took a step closer to him, I had hoped to bring him some solace but instead he flinched, almost falling off his chair. His bloodshot eyes stared at me, mortified. So, I whispered to him after gaining my composure, “how did you hurt him?”

I couldn't understand why he was so affected at the time. I knew he was a kind-hearted kid and even the thought of causing a bruise on another person would make him feel terribly guilty. However, to be affected to this extent it just couldn't click in my head. That is to say if…

His voice barely audible, he mumbled a few words. Although I feared it may stagnate the mood, I couldn't help but ask, “pardon?”

“... Claws… I clawed him… I don't understand how or w-why that happened… When I force myself to think back on the events of that day, I don't even remember attacking him. He yelled and mocked me in front of his group like he always had, but- but then he started saying stuff about you. Things like how you must either be mad or abnormal like me if you're claiming to be my sister. A-and that you're so cold and arrogant while looking down on people and believing you're some sort of god compared to them. They kept laughing and mocking and laughing and mocking! But they don't even know you, I KNOW YOU! YOU’RE NOTHING LIKE THAT! … and then it gets blurry for a while… and when the rage disappeared, I felt so itchy… when I lifted my sleeves, do you know what I saw?”

My poker face exuding tenderness and care, faltered for only a mere second as I responded to his question with a panicked silence. Mistaking my reaction for something far more sinister he goes on to exclaim, “that's right! Hahaha I really am a freak like they say! Feathers! Feathers were emerging from my skin! It was as if someone pierced a multitude of tiny daggers into my arms and purposely left chunks untouched to mock me that they'd come back to stab me later! Hell, that isn't even the worst part, I mentioned I hurt him right? It wasn't even by normal means… I had these- these long, black spikes in place of where my fingernails would be. When my mind came to ease, I was standing in front of so many frightened eyes. and the bully... His mutilated body looked as if he came face to face with a wild beast. But that- that ‘beast’ was me!”

I impulsively ran to him and wrapped my trembling arms around his shoulders. Wishing and hoping to ease his pain, even if it was just by a minuscule amount. He stiffened from my capricious attack but slowly he allowed himself to take in the embrace. His arms laid limp beside the chair and his body faced forward, reluctant to return the pitiful hug. With a shaky breath he continued, “…you’re not even my real sister, are you?”

When I tell you hearing those words scorched me more severely than any flame, I truly mean it. I spent years reminding myself that this day would eventually come. But like a coward it still felt so awful to hear them. He was right, I wasn't his sister and I would never be. But… At times I like to believe I was. That was the night I cried for the first time in many years. The last day being the damp morning when I dubbed the little him as my precious little brother.

I tried my best to clarify how we had come to be, choking on my words, feeling as though I said too little and too much. Yet, although I struggled to find the perfect, least hurtful words, I continued.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I was too young at the time to understand the meaning behind why people disappeared so suddenly. I naively thought that my endearing loved ones would come back and visit me again. Perhaps they’d kick down the shabby, make-shift door, waving a stuffed bear or two, calling, “we’re home! We’re home! Did you miss us? We missed you so much! So, so much!” but that was just wishful thinking from an innocent minor. I remember I got so lonely and so desperate that I begged and begged to the heavens every night for someone or something to keep me company when the darkness seeped over my filthy rags I'd call my bed. But for so long, I was left alone without even a single flicker of a flame to tell me that any merciful Gods have heeded my call. So I waited and waited and waited, until I couldn't even find a speck of patience within myself.

One night while the moon was at its fullest and brightest I decided to go find them. Deserting my crumbling shack, I ran through the streets, the alleyways, the food crops, even through rough, uncharted fields. I screamed so loud and for so long until my voice went hoarse, “MUMMY, DADDY! MUMMY, DADDY! Mummy, Daddy! Mummy… Daddy…” my throat cried in pain, pleading with me to stop and relieve my parched throat of all this torture, but I didn't want to. I couldn't. Using the excuse, “just a little farther, they must be a little farther” to keep myself from collapsing. Eventually, the stars in the sky shifted along behind heavy clouds. The freezing temperatures of the night soon met with a delicate drizzle. Soon enough, it would only get more dreadful. The rain pelted against my skin unlike the original soft glow of the full moon that I had gotten accustomed to, it was almost as if it was mocking my weakening hope.

It was too much for me to handle, my aching legs running endlessly through liquefied dirt, having the rain strike my chilled, raw skin, being humiliated by the booming laughs from the arrogant thunder. I was so terrified but I made one last promise; if I could just make it to the big tree… the big tree…

My steps sunk deeper and deeper and my stamina plummeted down with it. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to make my long-winded effort not in vain or maybe I instinctively knew I belonged under that tree. Nonetheless, through the inexplicable pain I craved whatever I could seek there. And what I encountered was something I so desperately needed.

A new hope.

A bolt of lightning lit up the world in my surroundings and presented to me a tiny, shivering, hazel and white critter. I tripped and stumbled while dragging up my stubby legs, attempting to pick up as much speed as possible to meet the pitiful thing. When I made the distance I fell to my knees, laughing and crying as I embraced the birdie in my arms, shielding it from the rushing winds. The more I bawled, the more relieved I felt. It finally meant I wasn't alone anymore.

I will protect you. I will love you. I promise, I promise to you I'll never, ever leave you. You'll grow so strong, and so healthy. You'll be something the world will love and I'll make sure of it. We'll eat together all the time and you'll always have the bigger portions. You deserve it! Tomorrow when you wake up, I'll find and catch you some lizards! You like lizards, right? I really hope you do! I'll do anything for you so please, please don't leave me alone like Mummy and Daddy…

After some time my wails disappeared along with the weeping, monotone clouds, morphing itself away to become a distant memory. When the night passed, I slowly opened my puffy eyes, only for them to be burned by the early rays of the rising sun. My legs were limp and my chest felt heavy under the unfamiliar pressure. Struggling with even the simplest of moves, I lowered my head and was confronted with something I never thought I'd ever witness. The little barn owl that trembled endlessly throughout the early morning turned into something that could only be formed in dreams.

A petite, human toddler slept soundlessly on top of my young frame, underneath the dauntingly large tree where I had originally found the critter. His appearance was odd, whites and browns danced around his body like ink on parchment. When I observed his circular face he still had evidence of feathers around his features, soft and delicate. With an adorable squeak his eyes opened revealing pure, black opals. I knew instantly he was the little barn owl that I had met earlier in the night before.

Yes, he was my promise. My precious existence. With me you will be cherished for all of eternity.

Slowly, the seasons changed and so did the believed-to-be omnipotent tree. Every spring, under the array of drooping, yellow flower clusters, I would whisper my vows of protection and love, while every summer I’d pick the hazelnuts to solidify my pure intentions. And by that winter, I would have already forgotten the people who chose to abandon me. The only remnant left is a single carving of their names on a stone pillar under the warmth of the hazel tree. From then on I only focused on this little bird-hybrid, who I deemed as my dearest brother.

Never once did I intend to deceive him, but as a silly child who didn't fully comprehend her actions, I could only treat him as family. Slowly as time would pass, my forgotten explanations grew heavier and heavier in my heart, until I couldn’t bear to even explain the origin of our meeting. Fearing it’d break his delicate being and that he’d never see me in the same light again, I kept procrastinating this important discussion. Now, because of that selfish reason, I was left with a broken, humiliated child.

A lot of actions took place after our discussion, he screamed his pent up rage at me, blaming his freak-self on my inconsiderate wishes as a child, claiming that I am the root cause of all his despair. He then cried as he apologised over and over again, to me, to my parents, even to his bullies. At one point, he attempted to smile and act as if everything was fine, until a single tear trickled down his face causing him to bawl again. Finally, he bolted out the door and fell in front of the hazelnut tree, muttering words I couldn't gather. But although I watched from afar, behind the dining room window I could tell it was only questions of ‘why’. I'm not too sure how long I stood at my position but I knew I never once drifted a single inch away.

He never came home that night nor the day after or the day after that. I'm not too sure how long it was, maybe a few days or maybe a few months. All I knew was that those passing sunrises to sundowns were excruciatingly long and suffocatingly lonely. I thought endlessly about how the possible change in my actions could lead to a more happy, calmer result. I thought about these useless thoughts for so long that it had become a blur of lost words.

In the course of time he finally found his way back home. I wasn't aware of his arrival, instead I laid like a corpse on my bed, deep in my dreams due to the accumulated sleepless nights that plagued me up until then. Nonetheless, he waited the tedious hours for me to arise. He'd try every method to wake me up, throwing water, hitting, making insurmountable noise. At least that's what he told me laughing with tears in his eyes. I couldn't forget the emotions that gathered within me when I saw his smiling face still safe and sound. It was like finding a mysterious waterfall glimmering within the rays of sun, and what it projected before your eyes was nothing less than a magnificent display of colourful light. Anxiously, I opened my mouth to speak my worries and apologies, however I was interrupted by his simpered question,

“Hey Sister… Would you like to go on an adventure to the hazelnut tree?”

With the weakest of smiles and feeling most reticent, I eventually croak,"... Mn... Yeah." For a moment, I believed that he just wanted me to forget my penitence even if it were for just a second, and instead allow us to live how we normally would have. Letting our past memories guide us as we'd find ourselves retelling old stories and picking the dainty nuts that had fallen from metres above. Those comforting moments felt too good to be true, because even now, I couldn't understand why he would come back and act like nothing had happened. It was almost like we were putting on a show of what I hoped so desperately would take place. It didn't make sense to me. He was so emotional and honest so why? Why was he pretending everything was fine?

Wait... Did I ever move from the dining room after he ran away..?