Young Writers Society

Age had a subtle but powerful hand laid upon the frail woman's shoulder. It pushed her toward the earth, quietly suggesting a burial. Her black skin was blurred by innumerable fine wrinkles spiderwebbed into every visible inch. Her hair was still thick and black as in her youth, but her beauty had diminished with time and trial. Some would argue that a ship was more beautiful for the scars it earned in stormy seas, but Madam Afolayan had been alone as long as her son or any of her neighbors could remember. She sat, always she sat for her legs would no longer support her, on her bed of threadbare blankets and makeshift pillows in the corner of the hut.

Her health had never been stellar, but people from Lowtown aged quickly as well. If they could live past thirty without a violent or otherwise tragic death, they certainly would not make it far past forty.Madam Afolayan was respected in the impoverished community as something of a seer, often giving advice, healing agents, or chilling prophecy at random. She had yet to be proven wrong about her wisdom and alchemical expertise, though even Madam Afolayan could not grant herself immortality.

Her son, Chausiku, had grown into a strong man since he had first appeared in Lowtown with his mother.His face was the color of almond but his eyes were a startling green, and his short straight hair a shade of brown lighter than most colored folk's in the region. Nearly two decades after he had been brought to Lowtown as an infant, Siku was making arrangements for his mother's passing. There was little to it in this poor territory, and she was not gone yet. But the man was nervous to know he would soon be without her simple guidance.

Indeed, he seemed to have been polishing the same sea shell pendant that would circle her memorial for an hour. His mother scolded in Liwahsi, "Scrub it anymore and it will be smoother than my elbows." She clucked in amusement as she pinched the stretched and wrinkled skin on her arm.

Siku set the pink, ridged shell down on the splintered wooden bench that served as their only furnishing in the small home of rotting wood and various repurposed resources. The polish - which was a Madam Afolayan concoction - was slick on Siku's deft fingers, and its vial lay rocking listlessly on its side. 

"I apologize if I find it difficult to laugh when the illness is ravaging you so quickly," he said to her in their native language.

The old woman furrowed her heavy brow and looked up at him from beneath wildly curled black hair. "I will die very soon. You will deny me my son's laughter?"

Siku sat on the dirt floor in front of his mother's bedding, legs crossed and hands clasped. He bowed his head in respect. "If I could bring myself to I would laugh for you until your breath no longer comes back to you."

Staring at his own dirtied hands, his grimy peasant clothing, it looked strange to see Madam Afolayan's skinny, veiny hand flutter atop his. Her touch was like that of a cautious butterfly. "I know you are feeling lost. There is a reason for that."

"What will I do in your absence?"

"You are not content to remain here, working and finding a woman to breed with," she said factually. Madam Afolayan did not need to look into her son's eyes to feel the truth she had stated. "You stayed here, in Lowtown, only because I could not leave. But you think you know a way out, or you think you are capable of escaping. Yet you do not know if the attempt will cost you your life or not. You think I will be disappointed if you try, and you think you are misguided. You are not errant my child; you are scared."

Although he was sure he had kept such notions and explorative walks secret from her, he was not surprised that she knew. "If I die, I will have wasted the life that you spent your prime nurturing. That is almost worse than killing you myself."

"Child, this life is not yours." She smiled a dark, unhappy smile. "My poor Chausiku, born at night to live in the dark. You were supposed to be rich and strong, just like your father. At least, I suppose, you are strong. But there remains a debt for you to collect from your father, from this world."

Madam Afolayan rarely spoke to Siku of his enigmatic father; her last few statements had been more revealing to him than any information he had ever received about the abstraction. "And I will not be able to from within the confines of Lowtown. So where will I go, mother?"

She never had to shift her legs to keep them awake; they were always asleep. But her aging face was somehow more expressive with the detail of her wrinkles. It seemed as though all of her body's mobility was repurposed for moving her face. At that moment she was smirking at Siku amusedly. "I am in touch with the world's movement. However, I am not God."

"You know only that I must leave here." A breath of exasperation slipped between Siku's lips.

"You will pass beyond these walls and I will drift beyond this sky." She was certain, so it was true. "You must find your father. Tell him who you are."

"He knows I am alive? He knows I exist?" Siku scowled slightly. "He is rich and powerful you said. Why has he left you in Lowtown? If he knows of me why did he leave me as well? And why would he pay forward this debt that he owes now?"

Madam Afolayan grinned yellow. "Tell him you are Chausiku Wyght, son of Afolayan. You will catch his attention. His name is Dougal Wyght."

"I am Chausiku Afolayan!"

"No my heart. You are not." The woman turned her weak chin up to make eye contact, knowing that these words would hurt her treasure more than anything he had ever experienced. Siku clenched his jaw and glared, betrayal evident in his aura. "For many years you have been obedient, intelligent, and strong of character. I birthed you and I fed you, so you followed me. I taught you, so you did not question me. I shielded you from temptation so that I could have more time to instill proper values. But now you can feed yourself and life is yours to live; you must follow your heart. I can teach you no more, so you must question the world. I am incapable of protecting you any longer; you will face evil without me. In the heart of evil lies temptation, and should you give into it, you will be the very same villain that would now offend your ideals."

"I have seen evil men, mother. I know to resist temptation."

"No, Chausika you have not seen evil. You have seen desperation. You have not felt temptation, because your loyal love for me has made you want for nothing. When I am gone, you will become aware of more than just my own needs. Your desires, your dreams, your goals, they will present you with illusions that some people are good. Or that some actions are just, that some outcomes are inevitable. They are only illusions, and you will see them as such if you can remember these many years of tutelage."

Siku's shoulders visibly slouched and he lowered his gaze from his mother's. "Do you know where my father is?"

"He is on the other side of the same coin. You will be led to him, but you will be led by your own determination." Madam Afolayan seemed to sink deeper into her pile of fabric, and her eyes lowered. "You will not be here when I die."

Siku raised his voice, which he rarely did. "Of course I will! I w- "

"No, you will leave now." His mother's calm and certain authority silenced him, but he stared in disbelief and confusion. Her tone went from blissful certainty to firm command. "You will go to the southern border of Lowtown, where the perimeter is thinnest. You will meet a man there who will escort you to where you need to be."

"Mother, is this prophecy or is it your plans for me...?"

"It is God's plan for you." She closed her eyes and took a deep, slightly wheezy breath. "Leave me now, Chausiku."