The Priest and the Boy

Today, I am six months old. 

I was born to a mother and a father and learned about the world through them. They lived in a small, peaceful cabin in the rural part of the kingdom.

My mother was quite beautiful. She had brown chestnut hair and eyes that shimmered when the sun hit at just the right angle and round, deer-like eyes. If she were in the modern world, she could easily qualify as an actress or model.

On the other hand, my father had dirty blond hair and ocean-blue eyes. He was quite handsome but not as beautiful as my mother. I rarely saw him because he'd be out for work, but when I did, he'd be all lovey-dovey with my mother.

I inherited my mother's feminine features and traces of my father's masculinity. To be honest, I could easily be mistaken for a girl. However, I didn't share the color of my parent's hair or eyes at all. Instead of blond or brown, I had white hair, and my eyes were a deep crimson unlike my father's ocean blue or my mother's warm brown.

A week after I was born, a priest came to our doorstep. He introduced himself as Priest Bahram, a member of the church of Light. 

He was a wrinkly old man— I didn't think much of him.

For whatever reason, he was sent to monitor me. Even my parents were confused at the time, but the church's authority couldn't be refused. Ultimately, they invited him to our home, and he has stayed with me ever since.

He would try to talk to me sometimes, saying stuff along the lines of "Mama" or "Dada" or whatever. I had a good enough grasp of the language of this world to understand that. And to be honest, I wish I was ignorant instead. I never realized that being talked down to like a baby would be so...frustrating.

And it gives me the creeps.

But something peculiar occurred during the two years I was here for. 

When my mother fell ill a few months ago, the Priest conjured...magic.

Or what I thought was magic. No—now that I think about it, it was definitely magic.

He stood at her bedside, and a bright yellow hue emitted from his hands. A few moments later, my mother was fine.

It was unlike any phenomena I've ever witnessed.

Well, other than my own misfortune.

I couldn't ask him about it, though!

Why?

Because I was a damn baby!

The only thing that came out of my mouth was incomprehensible babble. It was futile trying to form anything other than that.

"Abububu..." I grumbled.

"What's that?" my mother said in a high-pitched voice, holding me to her face. "You hungry?"

Smooch.

Her lips puckered up, and a kiss landed on my forehead.

"He seems upset," The Priest chimed in. "Perhaps he's hungry?"

Just put me down.

"He's always like that, though. But he doesn't cry at all."

I shook my head.

"Abubu..."

"Haha, he's quite smart," my mother chuckled. "He's so much like his father. When we were little, he'd always try to hold his tears in and stand up for me. He's still like that even now."

A slight crease formed on the Priest's lips. I couldn't quite see what expression he made at that moment because it was so quick.

Anyhow, I've been thinking about him for a while now. I'm not the type to think about wrinkly old men, but the Priest is simply too suspicious.

He came to my family uninvited, basically living with us. I thought that perhaps my family was of a noble bloodline or something, but I ruled out that possibility simply because my parents and where I lived screamed commoner. 

And why monitor me?

I'm not even a year old!

Argh, my luck! Maybe he's just a creep!

Though, I doubt it's that shallow.

"Oh! I just remembered Honey is coming home today! Should I get something for him?"

"It would be quite nice to do so. Flowers?"

"No, he sneezes when he's around them. Haha, it reminds me of our wedding!

If you don't mind, may you keep track of little Casimir for me while I'm away?"

"I don't mind at all."

"Then I'll be going out now."

She led the Priest into the bedroom and placed me down in the crib. 

The door creaked to the outside creaked open, and there went my mother.

Great, now I'm alone with him.

This is the first time this ever happened. I guess my mother finally had enough trust in him to leave me in his hands.

He's just...staring at me.

Finally, after a few minutes, the silence was broken.

The Priest suddenly clasped his hands together and mumbled something under his breath.

"O' Gods of all things pure, please bless this young family with fortune and happiness. Shall they grow up to live honest lives they be ridden of curse and ague. O' Gods, let life be benevolent to this child."

As I looked up at his serene, aged face, memories flashed in my head.

Let life be benevolent to this child.

When have I ever been told that? When has that ever happened to me?

I was cursed. I was betrayed by the world and won the worst lottery. Even when I wanted to die, I lived. Even when others wanted to live, they died. I couldn't do anything. No one could. 

My misfortune plundered, stole, killed, afflicted. 

No, I did.

So why did I continue to live?

Why am I still alive?

As the train of thought continued, a sense of detachment flooded me.

And then I stopped thinking about it.

It's no use pondering these useless things. The Priest stopped praying and opened his eyes.

Something within his face changed. His expression became more profound, but nothing particular in his facial features struck me as different, which was odd. 

He eyed me from above the crib, and a small smile formed on his lips.

The situation felt really awkward for some reason. Being stared down by someone several decades older than me while alone in a dark room— something about it just rubs me the wrong way.

To relieve the awkwardness, I babbled a little.

"Papapa da-da-dabu"

Finally, he stopped staring at me so intensely. He averted his gaze briefly before locking eyes with me again.

Now he was just staring at me slightly less intensely. 

Great.

A joyous grin started to come to his face.

I have a bad feeling about this.

He leaned over the crib, picked me up like a soccer ball, and held me to his eye level.

This...

I tried babbling some more.

"Ma-ma-ma-bububuma"

And...

A lively cheer filled his smile.

"Now, can you say Priest Bahram?"

...

What makes him think that I could say that, let alone anything else but a baby babble?

"Repeat after me: Pree..."

"Pree..."

"Pree-ist"

Hah...it doesn't seem like he'll stop.

I took in a mental breath of preparation.

Whatever, here goes nothing.

"Abubu"

"No, it's Pree..."

"Abubu..."

"Pree-eest"

"Paaapabu..."

"Bahh-rum."

"Bahbubim"

"Baaaa..."

...