Custom Galactic Terracoon
Laur
The Cast
Doum tek ka ka doum doum tek ka tek tek ka...As his hands tapped out the rhythm, his voice lifted, floating along the air, singing the worn words etched into his memory from those steaming summer nights when his father once tried to soothe him to sleep. That was before his father died, of course - and too young, for the disease forced his cold, broken body back to the earth before he was able to pass along the language of his past. And so, Apos tried not to think about what was or what could have been, but nights like these - the nights where the stars were big and near, bearing down the stories of long ago - always drew the lost hymn to his lips and, though he couldn't understand the words themselves, he could feel the pain, truth, patience, and hope pulsating through his body.
He continued singing as he drew from his mud-caked bag a handful of pristine crystals, throwing them into the dust before him without concern. He closed his eyes, savoring the last taste of the song before quieting and setting his eyes on the gems glittering before him as the colors danced from the fire's playful light.
When he was only four, running still- naked alongside his father, he had the misfortune of landing a foot the wrong way. His father turned in time to see the tyke tumble in the dust. At first, he smiled the crooked smile of a man who knows every being will take wrong steps in their life, but as the dust settled, the smile melted into a surprised frown. Apos was lying where he had landed staring intently into the dust.
"Did you see?"
"See what?"
"In the dirt. In the air. Did you see it?"
"It was just dust, son. Let's move along. We still have two miles until the next town, and night will soon be upon us."
"No. No, I won't go."
"Come now, don't you want a rest? We'll sing for some bread and fresh, cold water. Maybe even a bit of milk for you. Doesn't that sound nice?"
"No." His voice rose in a distressed wail, and his father drew closer, thinking maybe Apos had really hurt himself from the spill. But though his knee was slightly skinned, his father knew that the tears in his son's eyes weren't on account of the fall. He examined the serious brown child and nodded. His son was very agreeable, usually following quietly without complaint alongside his father. If his son was insisting on this, he must truly need a rest. His father lifted his head to the sky and, realizing they likely wouldn't make it into town before nightfall anyway, asked his son how badly his leg hurt. Could he stand to walk a short distance to a nearby clearing? Relief fell across Apos's face and he was quickly skipping beside his father once more. The two popped mushrooms and berries into their mouths as the sun set, taking sips of stale water from his father's leather pouch before drifting to sleep on the warm, soft moss.
The following day, long before they entered the town, Apos's father knew something was wrong. The forest was too quiet and smelled increasingly of ash. Guiding Apos down a lesser-used path while trying to maintain a calm appearance, his father led the way to the town's edge where his fear was realized. The few houses that still stood were charred black and still smoking, the air was thick with the smell of flesh, and a handful of mutilated bodies dangled from the willow, half-shrouded by the willow's swaying branches. Oh, innocent townsfolk! It is you then who the willow weeps for?
His father turned around and there was his son, staring up at him with his serious face and sad eyes.
"I said we can't go. The dust told me," he said simply.
As the two once again settled for a night in the forest, his father pulled from his pocket a series of crystals - seventeen in all. His son crouched, his eyes agleam from their beauty, and began to pick them up and put them down and scoot them into patterns as children will do. His father sat down beside him.
"Apos," he started, "it's high time I tell you about my mother - your grandmother. She was a wise woman. While my father was earning some change singing and dancing in the villages, she taught me all about the earth. Which plants were safe to eat, which would make you sick. Which to chew to cool a fever and which to boil down for a sore throat. But she had another kind of knowledge too - a kind that can't be taught. Your grandmother was an omen-reader. She could read the signs in nature and sense danger or blessings. These gems belonged to her. She would cast them to the ground and read into them the past, the present, the future. I lack the gift. I've tried again and again to make sense of these gems, but they've proven to me to be only beautiful stones. I've even thought now and then about selling them. But you, Apos. You said the dust spoke to you yesterday and showed your heart potential danger. I could be wrong, and I'm sure we'll see in time, but I think you too possess the ability to read omens. Your grandmother would want you to have these. I don't know if you understand all this now, but you will one day. Okay?"
Apos looked up to his father, his eyes reflecting the light from the gem he still clutched, and nodded. His father smiled.
"Go ahead, give them a try."
"I don't know how."
"Well, your hands are a bit small, but I'll try to help you hold them all."
His father proceeded to collect the crystals into his son's small hands, cupping his own rough hands palms beneath as the crystals threatened to spill over. He held his son's hands steady, his thumbs guiding them as they gently tossed the gems forward. His father, seeing only a mess before him, timidly asked his son, "Well?" Apos stepped forward and pointed to the green stone, which he knew within him was the earth itself.
"This is you."
Then, turning slightly, he pointed to one close beside it.
"And this one is me, but I can't feel what it means. It sure is pretty though, isn't it?"
His father drew close and looked upon the oddly colored gem, filled with blacks and purples and blues and pinks.
"Your grandmother used to call this one a 'singed' crystal. She taught me the names - probably would've taught me to read them too if she could have. Tomorrow we're going to sew you a pouch to keep these in since your naked little self surely can't keep track of these. It's time you have some shorts too. And as I sew, I'll teach you all the names of the gems. Anything else you see?"
His son looked at the surrounding stones, pointing at one here and there as he spoke.
"This one means it's getting dark, and these two have something to do with the heat. Behind us is this one that shows the fire we left. But there's nothing else."
"There won't always be much in it and the cast will also depend on what question you have in mind. I didn't tell you to think of anything in particular, so the cast has shown us only what we know to be true now. But that's enough; we don't always want to know the future, eh? I only wanted to test the gift. Now, get some rest. I want to buy some cloth for the sewing tomorrow, and the nearest town is a good ten miles off now."
And, after collecting the crystals into his own pocket for the last time, his father laid down next to his son under the great big blanket of sky.
Twenty-five years later, Apos had this time cast his crystals with a question in mind.
Lea
