A little late with this one, but here it is.
Thanks for reading.
Legend
Jott loved the rain until tonight.
A flood of nails it felt like. On his back, in a hole, forced to gaze up at the sky, if he opened his mouth he would drown. He was sure of it.
A shovelful of mud landed on his legs. Father’s face glistened in the moonlight above his kelp beard. “You all right, son?”
Jott’s lips twitched to answer. He nodded instead.
“Right, then,” Father said. He deposited another heap of mud on Jott. He couldn’t move his legs anymore. The weight. The cold. It was so cold. He wished he would grow numb like when Ma would take him to swim in the Gray Sea.
“Where’s Ma?” Jott asked. He choked a little but didn’t drown.
“She’ll be along shortly,” Father said. “Much to prepare. Much to prepare.” The last of his words rang hollow.
Jott squirmed in the mud. What he thought were worms tickling his fingers ended up being roots. He broke them off, one by one.
“Will it hurt? Jott asked.
Father stabbed the shovel in the ground and leaned on it, his back to Jott. His beard moved as if he were in conversation. Finally, he turned. “Mother’s arrived,” he said.
Mother stepped around Father in a heavy cloak, only the wet curls of her hair hanging from her hood identifying her. She shuffled to the hole where Jott lay.
Jott sat up, kicking away the mud, holding out his arms. Like a child. He was a child.
“Oh, child,” Mother said. “You must lie back down. It’s nearly time.”
More than rain fell from her face. More than cold shivered her bones.
Father pushed her aside with a fresh shovelful. Larger than the last one. This time, Jott felt things squirm. Not roots at all.
Mother opened her cloak to reveal an armful of items. A sword she placed first, then a shield. Jott had never seen such treasures. She put his hand around the sword’s hilt and patted it before letting go. The shield came next, upon his breast. Her touch lingered. Father pulled it away.
“You have it all wrong,” Father said. “He was mirrored. Left of sword, right of shield. To fool them all. So it is writ.”
Mother went to lift Jott’s head, which he thought she might kiss but placed a heavy tome behind him as a pillow. “He sleeps upon the wisdom to sunder the world. Divide light from dark.”
Mud up to his chest, Jott was done with this game. “Let me out!”
“A jot on the world no more, my son,” Mother said. “You are the steel. You are the forge. You shall usher future generations to salvation.”
“Please!” Jott screamed.
Mother and Father were ghouls. They weren’t his parents. They looked at him as if he wasn’t there at all. He kicked and squirmed, but the weight was too much. Only his head could move.
“I am cold,” Jott said. “Please, let me out. I’m scared. I don’t understand—”
“It is not for you to understand,” Father said. “It is for them to learn. One thousand years hence, perhaps more, long after we are but dust taken to the wind. But you . . .”
Jott looked to his parents, words lost to him, the rain falling harder, the mud getting heavier.
“I’m not any of those things,” Jott said between sobs. “I’m not—”
“It doesn’t matter what you are,” Mother said. “It matters what they believe.”
“You will burn the darkness,” Father said.
“You will light the way,” Mother said as she emptied a bucket over Jott.
Once Jott spit most of it out and the rain cleared his eyes, he smelled it.
Father lit a torch. It hissed in the rain. “You will light the way,” he echoed.
Mother and father joined hands on the torch, then together, they tossed it on Jott.
Lightning flashed as Jott burned.
Leave a Reply