*********
Deep in the Heart of Northern Ventil, in a small village named Calling Creek. A dark haired, charcoal eyed boy of six years mourned the death of his mother. The woman died slowly over the last few months, after contracting some unknown disease that the doctors had no time to deal with. She was isolated and he was allowed to stay with her as she slowly died. There had been some comfort in her death for the quiet child. Since his mother had taken ill, he had been well fed and slept in a real bed. More importantly, the beatings had stopped. Now the Social People wanted to know about his father. What had happened to him?
What was it that his mother had said about his father? He tried to remember, oh yes! His father was a big man. He was a faraway man. His father worked a country. No his father was a country, the ruler of a country. Angered by the sad smiles of the Social People, the boy stopped answering their questions. He knew they were going to send him away to live with the other orphan children. But he was not an orphan; his father was alive far away living in the mountains. He could not tell these people that though. His mother told him that he must hide from his father. His father didn't want him. The people in the mountains killed children with bad blood. That was why they had run away. He had bad blood. That was why she had to beat him. Sometimes the bad blood began to show when he asked her to tell him a story or if he cried too loud at night. Or the time he ran away, instead of fighting with that boy who had taken his shoes. That had been the worst beating of all. She said he was a coward just like his father, afraid to fight. It took a long time for the bad blood to leave him that day.
Later in the day the boy was removed from the temporary shelter and loaded on a small caravan. They arrived as the star filled sky replaced the scorched and cloudy sunset at a farm on the northern border of Ventil. The farm consisted of various shapes and sizes of pens holding livestock. There was a large old barn that had partially collapsed, sheltering the larger animals. Ignoring the stench of the animals, the boy waved goodbye to the other children as the bus drove off. He turned toward the old woman, he smiled.
The thin old woman was dressed in a baggy green jumpsuit, which looked as if she’d worn for several days. Her hands were caked with dirt and grime. She frowned at him, speaking in a high pitched squeak. “There will be none of that boy. You live with us, you earn your keep. Head on over to the pens, the old man will show you how to feed the animals.” She snatched the small bag of clothing the Social People had provided and headed back toward the house. She snapped at him as she reached the door, “You missed supper. Make sure you get up early enough for breakfast or you’ll likely be hungry all day.”
Tempest Borne Page 4
