Awareness
The night sky, faintly visible through the thick canopy of tall trees, wastrulyasight to behold.The stars and firefliesblinkedtogether as if they were sisters, not distant cousins, and therewere no clouds on this night, norwind,as it wasjusta peaceful,steady calmness.
I lay on the hill, staring up at thatsky,its beauty tainted by themeshof my mask. If you were to look beyond the hill and night sky,you would see a town, one where you show nothing of your identity, never leave, pray to the goddess of the moon, and stay in line.
It was a beautiful town,lit up by the orange flames of lanterns and torches,the main plaza paved with stone brick in patterns,and the buildings built out of brick, wood, thatch,and clay.
Although, there was another area of town. That area was more disregarded; it was dirtier, darker, and filled with anguish and despair.It was seen as a separate town in its own right.TherewasOshmin, where normal folk lived in a high society of sorts, then there was Outsher, which was separated by a metal gate in the middle of the western street, and it’s where outcasts like me liveaway fromanyoneelse.
As Ilooked downattheplaza,I noticedthata masking ceremonywashappening. Here, everyone wears acolombinamask to hide their faces.Youare allowedto customize the color and accessories onit,but youare neverallowedto take it offinpublicor infront of anybody.If youare caughttaking it off, youare turnedinto an outcast,orworse,banished.
I slowly stood, my back leaving the grass that I imagined was soft,though I couldn’t feel it through my many layers of clothing.I use my lanternstafftostabilizemyselfas I stand,thenattachitto a specially made harness:two leather straps balanced it,clasped with little buttons that click together. I use my magic to clasp them; I make sure my staff is secure before heading down the hill. Just as I put out my foot for the final step,a kid, no older than fifteen,teleported in front of me, pushing me over and laughing before disappearing with a stomp of his foot. I sigh and stand up,thinking to myself, I wish people would teach their kids better…I continue walking, Although,I guess their parents hate outcasts,too,so they are, in a way,teaching their kids.They just also thinkin a messed up way.I shrug before continuing on.
I pass by the ceremony, seeing everyone cheer and clap for the child, remembering my own masking ceremony. There was much less clapping,but I still felt special. Every year in Malene, every kid who turns, or already has turned 10 that year,gets a random power during the ceremony. Everyone gathers in the main plaza as the chief calls upon the moon goddess for a blessing to grant the children magic. Your powers can either be assigned an object or a movement which is called amagic conjure.You could get an amulet,a staff,or even a book as an object; or you could get a movement like stomping, waving, orevenjumping. For me,I can create things out of stardust.My power was meant to be assigned to my lantern staff,however,something went wrong,and the staff was created,but no magic was attuned to it.Instead,stardust flowed out of my hands. So instead,I keep the lantern staff as a walking stick, as well as for light, obviously.
I hear the chief reciting our prayer toChelendis,
“insert prayer in made language.”
It means,
“Praise the holy moon,praise her children,praise those who worship them.I ask you once again to bless us, and those who come after us to live long,to have the magic that coincides with their souland purpose. Bless us,oh holy moon,may you, your sister, and all those above bless us with purpose.”
The chief is the most powerful in Oshmin,some say he has multiple powers,and some say that the one power he was given is almost as powerful as a gods. He claims to be close to the moon goddess after asking for her protection. Some people worship him as if he were a god himself,although,most of the outcasts despise him for casting them out.
I make the turn into Outsher,the outcast area of town, waving at some of the locals before turning to face one of the smaller houses.Actually, it’s the smallest house, and the house that I was actually happy to call home.
I stood in front of my door, reaching into my small satchel to grab a key. When I managed to unlock the door, I pushed it open lightly, and its creaking and rusted hinges let the must of old wood out of the smallhouse. I walked in, twisting the knob on the bright gas lantern and lighting up the room.
I was met with the torn,water-stained couch,the small table sitting in front of it still covered with papers and a quill was still sitting its ink pot.My mother’s old radio with a broken stylus sat along the half wall separating the kitchen and the livingroom,a small pot with a little green flower inside it next to it. As I turned to close the door, I saw a picture of me when I was 10 getting my lantern staff and mask, standing with mother. The picture was now covered in dust like everything else.
This house used to be my mother’s;I can still imagine standing in the kitchen as she cooked. She would hum a sweet yet sorrowful song to herself,every time she did,I would ask her what song she was singing. She would sing the words aloud before stopping and telling me to never stop being her ray of sunshine.The song went,
“Sad melodic song”
She died a year ago, but I still hum her song to myself sometimes, and I try and keep that promise. It may seem like a silly promise tokeep, but it keeps me going.
Sitting on the couch,I glanced at the papers; one of them was stained with ink in the bottom right corner.Onlythreeof the papers had words on them.They were the pages of a book Thoran had been working on.He was writing a story on what he thought the outside world was like but never got anywhere near finished it,because he got banished before he could even get past those first 3 pages. I wonder what happened to him sometimes, but I know he’s okay.Thoran was the strongest person I knew, and I have no doubt he could survive alone out there. Even though it’s lonely here without him, reading what little he had written reminds me of his strength.
When we first met, I was heading up the hill to practice my magicandran into Thoran, who was doing the same. We were both ten, newly gifted with our masks and magic. My cloak was clean and made of fine material, a dark faded blue with silver embroidered stars and constellations,whileThoran’swas the complete opposite.
His cloak was dark and tattered, patched in places, with a clasp shaped like a cogwheel. His entire appearance was grungy,his mask was covered in metal, resembling the illustrations of design soft he people outside from our textbooks, mean while my clasp was the moon,with downward pointing spikes, a dangling star and a tassel connected. Even though we were complete opposites, we became best friends in an instant.
No one other than me really knows what he did to get banished,buthe always had a thing for the outside world. He dreamed of going outside to see if it was truly like what the textbooks said. My magic could have helped us find a wayout,but I was always too scared to try.
Thoran’s magic meant he could create anything from the metal around him if he had the parts. It worked for him; he enjoyed metal and was always fascinated with the machines mentioned in our textbooks. He wanted to know the truth and more about the machines and metals around us and got banished for trying to figure it out.
