Young Writers Society

The Child and Jonah

For a place so omniously named, it was beautiful. Golden sunlight rained from the treetops and morning dew glistened on each flower and blade of grass. Nature flourished in a place untouched by mankind. The trees grew thousands of feet high and the leaves seemed so much bigger than anywhere the child had seen before. The only reason it was called the Badlands was because of how viciously the nymphs and spirits fought for this specific forest and refused colonization. The small camp Jonah and the child pitched was almost attacked the night before, if not for Jonah's own spirithood.


The Badlands was a retreat for any soulless being to escape the toilings and messes that humanity made. It thrived from the sheer amount of energy and magic that floated through the air.


The child was enthralled by the plump grass, running rivers, and trees to climb. Jonah found it absolutely boring. He loved humanity exactly for the reasons other spirits hated. They were messy, they were hypocrites, and they were so diverse! They always fought about something and it was always entertaining to watch them act as if they were important. They were simply another creature of Terith, yet they were filled with so much pride. It was remarkably fascinating. 


Jonah curled up on a log next to the fire pit, resting his head on his paws. "Child," he sighed, squinting his thin eyes at them, "Do you really want to be like a sopping wet cat when our guests arrive?"


His words fell on deaf ears. The child screeched as they kicked off their shoes and ran off the small incline, tucking themself in just in time for the splash. The fox rolled his eyes.


The child's head shot up from the water soon after, a wide smile on their face as they giggled. They swam back to the bank, crawling onto the sand with their wet sweater sticking to their chest. They laid on the grassy sand, grinning. 


The fox soon swung himself off the log, his legs turning human in an instant. Just like that, he became a human man with starkly orange hair and piercing yellow eyes. He always chose to wear a brown suit and glasses in this form. He liked being a tall human, too, so tall that he loomed over most others. Foxes weren't known for their height, after all.


"Do you know how long that'll take to dry? What if you had been swept by the river? Now there's sand on you, too!" he said, staring down at the child. He knelt down by the firepit and, now with human hands, began to spark another. "What is it with human children and testing their elder's patience?" he mused to himself.


The child stayed still in the sand, staring up at the treetops as golden sunlight hit their face. The child playfully waved their arms and fingers around. I don't care, the child signed.


"Obviously," the fox grumbled, though he smirked to himself once the fire had started. He set down the rocks beside him and extended his hand, beckoning the child over. "Now let me dry you. I've known humans far longer than you ever will, and I know they'll want you to appear somewhat presentable."


The child rolled onto their stomach, pouting. But I want to swim more!, they signed. 


The fox simply crossed his legs and waited for the child to approach. With no attention being given to them, the child relented their puffed up cheeks and sulked their way to the spirit. They dropped next to the fox's feet, crossing their arms and legs. You're no fun, the child signed.


"I know, I know," Jonah chuckled. Jonah swiped the sweater off the child and took their hair into his hands, ruffling the scalp before he put their head near the fire, waiting for it to warm. "I pity humans," he whispered to himself.


The child overheard easily. I know, they signed, I can tell.


"How awful must it be to not have the ability to simply shake the water off? Instead, it sets into your skin and silly need for clothes… Ah, I'll never understand what Vita-Anima was thinking when she made you." 


What was she thinking when she made you?, the child signed, their hands shaking nervously from being put so close to the flames.


"She didn't make me, but I feel no need to give you another history lesson," he said, his smirk unmoving. "Now, let's hope these guests hurry up. I'm so tired of waiting. Humans die so quickly," he said to himself, "You'd think they'd pick up the pace a bit! But no, they meander through their tiny little lives…"


The child ignored Jonah from then on. The child had suffered through many, many of his tangents on the hypocrisy of human life, they didn't have the will to hear another. Sometimes, all they could wonder is if they were included in his speeches.


I want to stay here, the child signed slowly. The habit of 'talking' to themself had been developed from listening to Jonah for hours. 


Jonah looked down at the child, the sly look on their face vanishing. Slowly, Jonah dressed the child once more. The fire and sun combined has dried the child just enough, though the sandy hair on their head still dripped occasionally, sending shivers down their neck. "Well," he started, patting the child's back, "We know that's not possible as of now."


The child nodded, sadly. 


"But soon it will be," he said. The child stared at Jonah with an eyebrow raised. Encouraging words from him only happened once in a full moon. "Soon, you'll be able to go wherever you wish, and even I won't be here to tell you to get out of the river."


The child's green eyes sparkled at the thought of being free from the soul tied to them.


"Now," Jonah said, his eyes thinning once more. He reached into the child's bag, handing them a stale piece of toast and a few berries. "Eat. Our friends should be here shortly."

Petr rubbed his hands together in agitation. There were red marks in his skin, shaped like the chain he'd taken the last week to craft so lovingly. It had been his most beautiful creation yet; bloodred rubies circled with gold and set in silver so shiny he could see his face reflected in it. Until Megan so rudely yanked it away from him, that is.

He liked to think he put up a good fight, but in reality his manager was much bigger and stronger than him, snatching the chain away with ease. Now all he had was those red marks to remember it by.

Petr tapped the coin pouch around his neck, heavy with slivers of silver and gold. Megan had compensated greatly for his work, but he couldn't wear money. Sure, he could buy stuff to wear with it, but what was the fun in that? All the other jewelry he could purchase was cheap and dull in comparison to his works!

What a waste, what a waste, he thought to himself, swinging his apartment door open. He lived in a small room behind the shop where he could easily go back and forth from his bed to his tools. Petr tended to sleep in short two-hour intervals, getting just enough rest before springing back up to work on a new piece. He didn't dream very often because of this, which made the vision he'd had a few hours ago all the more peculiar.

He'd been sitting in a field somewhere near a river, lying in the grass and listening to the burbling of the stream when a fox appeared in front of him. It was a very cute fox, and being in the dreamy state that he was Petr immediately tried to pet it. The fox jumped away from his hand, giving him an indignant glare before opening its mouth and asking him a rather odd question:

Do you want to kill the gods?

Petr had to stop and think about that for a second. The fox said it with such serious conviction that he couldn't help but consider his answer.

Maybe? he answered after a pause. I mean, the gods aren't particularly helpful, are they? Perhaps the world would be better off without them.

The fox nodded in response, an approving sort of look on its face. Then it disappeared and Petr rose out of his dream with a sudden feeling of restlessness. It seemed he had just agreed to something, though he wasn't sure what. The fox had made a deal with him that he was now obliged to follow through with.

That was what he thought until common sense kicked in, at least.

It was just a dream, he told himself, shifting his necklaces around nervously. Just a weird, oddly specific dream...

But he couldn't help thinking that maybe there was something off about this particular vision. The fox seemed awfully real, and it wasn't completely unheard of for spirits to give messages to humans through dreams. Maybe the fox was a spirit? It wasn't completely out of the question.

He wants me to meet him at that place, Petr thought, closing the apartment door behind him. He could hear Megan in the distance, haggling with some customers over the price of his beautiful chain. The field, with the river. It's not far from here...

He wasn't sure how he knew that, but now he was certain. Grabbing a bag from the closet he scooped his most valuable possessions into it; several sets of cobalt robes, many pieces of jewelry, a canteen that he could fill at the river, and some soap(just in case). He also snatched some grilled pork that he'd been saving for lunch, wrapping it carefully in a cheesecloth before setting it in a separate pocket in his bag. Something told him he'd get hungry on the journey there.

This job isn't very rewarding, anyway, he reasoned as he packed his things. Megan was going to be mad, so so mad, but she couldn't yell at him if he just disappeared, right? It would be fine. This was all gonna be just fine. Don't think about what you're doing! Just follow the fox spirit, yup, follow him to the river...this isn't crazy at all, no sir, I am completely sane right now. Totally, completely sane.