1 Roots

In the fourth century, in an endless landscape of what's nowadays called Asia, down a mountain chain stood a small village with scattered barracks and dry crops.

"Keith! Come on, dinner's getting cold. Get your sorry ass over here, now!"

A muffled rumbling could be heard through thin walls, until a little figure was peeking behind the door. Tall enough to support himself on the handle. It was a weak kid with short and disheveled hair.

"Yes mother, m-my apologies."

The woman had dark circles under her eyes and held her back straight on her chair, she was looking down on him.

"Sit, we'll feast tonight."

The young boy stared at his mother, and, walking on the old creaky floor, he contemplated the table. There was a braided palm leaf on its middle with a couple of berries, a cooked eggplant and sliced turnips inside. And he noticed a wooden plate aside, with a fist sized flat piece of meat covered with orange sauce.

He could barely hold his saliva as a delicate scent entered his nose.

"What's the occasion?"

"Quiet, you shouldn't ask where miracles come from."

There was meat in front of him, it was unusual for his mother to buy some, even for celebrations. But they had reached an unhealthy condition and they needed to regain strength to continue farm toils they had daily.

The amount of spices on the plate was more important than the quantity of meat, which was gulped down within a few seconds.

He was about to compliment his mother when he saw her vomit, mostly water, red berries, and finally the meat. The lukewarm and heavy odor of puke spread in the sitting room.

Keith watched his mother choking. She grabbed her whip at the top of the dresser to hit the air. She pointed it at him.

"Clean it. Before the stench soaks the wood."

He was worried, he had never seen her in this condition, and her mood deteriorated along with her sanity. Her health had gone down during the month and no improvement was in sight. She still had a slimy deposit on her chin. While licking her lips she gave another strong whipping near his head.

He took off his shirt and started wiping the floor.

Night had already fallen and the din of insects merged with the nocturnal wildlife. Once he finished he threw his shirt in a corner of their room. He couldn't allow himself to wash it, water was too precious, and he'd work without it until the rain came.

'Well, that was a rough evening.' He thought. Laying down on his bed, he lifted his arms to examine them. A few straight lines and irregular lumps covered them. He couldn't remember a day without those scars.

'Did mother hold back? I hope she'll get better soon.'

Soon after his mother entered the room. He hid under his bed sheet to avoid eye contact.

Her footsteps were heavy, she walked slowly toward the bed and sank her head in her flattened pillow. She quickly fell asleep.

Deep in the night, the weather was pleasant, yet while Keith recalled his mother's behavior, small drops of sweat formed all over his body. The fever spread in his brain just like a caterpillar dug through cabbage.

He opened his eyes to discern a new shade of darkness, his eyes took less than a minute or what seemed to be an entire hour before he could recognize usual shapes.

'I want to breathe fresh air' Keith thought.

He stood up and felt unbalanced, he moved toward the window while using the wall to define his path. Once he reached the window, lacking any shutter he raised his head. He saw a silhouette in front of him, almost too close to his face, there were no distinct features on it, just a heavy amount of black matter and a chilling aura surging from its head.

"Who are you? Are you a boy or a girl?" He asked.

Two dull lights appeared on the thing's head, they slowly slid down despite its shape not moving, looking like his mother's gaze earlier. The silence to Keith's question began to weigh on his shoulders, he had difficulties sustaining his sight straight.

The fever went up.

'Is my head going to crack open?'

The mysterious shadow shrank behind the window and he couldn't see it anymore.

'This... that just sank in the ground! That's impossible unless the ground liquid, is it?' He thought with a gaping mouth and a confused gaze.

The headache intensified while his eyes began to roll back. He went back to bed. A soreness began to grasp every one of his torso muscles. He was adjusting his position in the bed, frowning his eyebrows to hold his eyes shut when his breath stopped.

He woke up to see his mother, clenched fist, kneeling next to him.

"If you continue to piss yourself at night, I'll make you sleep outside. I thought you were past the age to wear diapers."

Keith was suddenly wide awake and noticed the puddle he was in wasn't just sweat. 'What? Daytime already? I feel so tired... That was a really scary dream'. He coughed a few times before he could speak clearly.

"Mother! I had a bad dream. I cannot have done it on purpose."

"I know you were having a nightmare, you've been breathing loudly all night I couldn't rest a minute without hearing your whining. You shouldn't fear what's in your dream because I'm much more real, plus angry at you. Anyway, I'm heading to the rice paddy, we have to finish planting what's left before we're one the middle of the dry season. Come when you're done."

He silently went looking for his dirty shirt and dried the floor. He lifted the blanket and saw a swollen spot, and darkened wood halos under the bed sheets but not only under his sleeping side. He put the blanket outside to dry and came back inside. A clear decay had begun under the bed. It was quite easy to sink his fingernails there.

'It's funny, but it's just another thing that stinks in here. If she had woken me up earlier, I wouldn't be cleaning now... Right, she's tired.'

The boy was still sick, only a vague memory remained of his night. But the stiffness remained. Once outside, the sunlight revived his headaches, yet Keith bore it and joined his mother, shirtless.

'I must not let her alone, she may be quick to scold me but I doubt she can work all day, I wouldn't be surprised if she faints, a bit of liveliness can do her no harm.'