Post by Seraph on Mar 21, 2021 13:48:23 GMT -5
Falling
Aidan liked best being at the edge during sunset. The late rays of the sun spread through the boughs and buildings of Crann, carving long shadow columns as they went: a crepuscular duality of gold and black, where everything was either one or the other - but the city, the city itself was both and many more things besides.
Aidan could relate. The other children at the orphanage always picked on him for being different, neither fully Duille nor full Siol. They laughed at his slightly rounded ears and shorter stature, at the two-tone nature of his eyes, at the ways his features never seemed quite settled one way or the other. They called him shorty and ugly and no-tips and all sorts of other insults. None of them wanted to be his friend.
But the tree was different. Out here at the edge, where the long branches of Crann stretched thin into that liminal place between tree and void, another duality, the wood too thin to support even the most magical architecture, he could sit cross-legged, alone and watch the world. He stared out across the vast landscape of Spiritus, towards distant towns, mountains lakes and, even, somewhere on the horizon, a strip of ocean. He wanted to travel there one day, to see the world beyond Beatha and to find a place for himself that wasn’t defined by what he was not.
He could stare down at the rest of Beatha, too; at the lower branches of Crann stretching out even further than this one, at the busy terraces of Spud and, far, far below, the twisted uprisings of Tuber’s roots, carved and encrusted with commerce. Beatha was huge, but Aidan had no reason to believe that he fit in on any of it. Everyone could be so cruel.
Sometimes, he imagined falling from the branch. He wondered what it would feel like, to be so free in the air, what he would see on the way down and what those who saw him falling might think. What would it feel like to hit the ground? Would there be any pain? And after?
His tears ran down his face and dripped off into empty space to follow the path of his imagination. They had been particularly cruel today. Ciaran, one of the older boys, had got physical. Aidan could still feel the punches, knew they would bruise badly, although none of the staff at the orphanage was likely to comment. They looked at him as an unwelcome charity case - more so than the other children. Few in Crann were accepting of mixed-tuath pairings and he was an awful reminder of someone who had broken their unspoken code. He was unclean. He was dirty. He was an abomination.
He stood up on shaky legs, still peering over the edge of the branch. What would it be like? Would he be brave enough? What if he started and then decided he didn’t want to? It would be too late by then.
He shook his head, turned to step away from the edge, but his foot snagged on a knot and he lost his balance, falling forward at first, but his legs slid out from behind him until, suddenly, he was slipping backwards, his legs hanging out into the air.
No! he thought, but it was too late. He couldn’t get a grip on the wood, felt the rough bark scratching past his fingertips and then -
Nothing. Only air. And a weightless feeling as the city rushed up past him. He saw the boughs of Crann fly past him, some terrifyingly close, then he was staring across the vast distance towards the seemingly endless terraces of Spud. But of course they did have an end and Aidan found he couldn’t look at it, couldn’t acknowledge the inevitable rushing up to meet him.
Oh no, oh no, oh no! he thought. Help me, somebody please!
Help!
And then he found he was no longer falling, but floating in mid-air, about equidistant from the branches of Crann and the gnarled roots of Tuber, and all around him was a strange greenish-white glow. Aidan stared at it in awe and then, without thinking, took a deep breath and… breathed the light in. And then he knew. It was the Spirit.
Can you help me? he asked.
I am already helping you.
But how can I get back to Crann?
You have never left.
I don’t understand.
But you will. All questions have answers, but the questions must be lived before the answers will reveal themselves. Live the question of this night, live all the questions, and I will be your answer. But above all: live!
Aidan woke up in a cold sweat in his bed in the orphanage. At first he was disoriented, couldn’t work out why it was already dark and why he was not still in the middle of the void, then he remembered his evening, hiding in tears in the basement of the orphanage, sneaking into bed when all the others were asleep, and then crying himself into a fitful slumber. There had been no trip to the edge, there never could be, without running away, but that was just what he had planned to do tomorrow. To run and then to jump.
But above all: live!
The Spirit had spoken to him. He lay, wide-eyed at the implications. Who knew what was possible if the Spirit had chosen to speak to him. Him! He smiled in spite of himself, then wondered what he should do about it.
Live the question of this night, live all the questions, and I will be your answer.
He closed his eyes.
Yes, okay, he thought. I will live these questions and see where they take me. Thank you.