the boy leads you to his home. it could barely be called a home, in your opinion - it stands on its fingers and toes, holes in the window panes and roof. wind flows through the house like a flute, whispers and whistles singing through makeshift skylights. the door creaks and croaks as the boy - August - opens it. he catches your grimace and smiles. "I call my house Grandpa," he says. "My Grandpa died a few years ago, but he raised me here. He loved this place so much I think he haunts it still. And it sounds like him."
the way he says it makes it sound sweet, but honestly you are creeped out. the smile on his face means he's either stupidly nostalgic or crazy. he looks at you again, reminiscence over, and shakes his hands. "I'm not crazy. Promise. Just listen and maybe you'll hear him."
August smiles still. it varies in intensity, but you doubt he's never not carried a smile on his face. you don't trust his endless smiles. you met August in the dark. it's all proof he may lie. at the same time, he babbles endlessly, attempting to entertain you with small talk as he warms a bowl of soup over a small fire and fetches blankets for you to sleep with. you don't plan on sleeping, but you don't tell him that. he asks you questions but your throat still aches. he takes the silence smoothly, doesn't falter. you will not do August the disservice of second guessing his hospitality. the gods want you here. you can see it in his face.
The soup is not bad. It soothes the abrasions on your throat and you find yourself sighing as it falls down into your belly.
August smiles. "Good, huh? Aunt Rae makes the town's bread and sells me soup, too. In exchange for rice."
You sit in silence with him while you drink. He seems content enough to look at you. It makes you uncomfortable, his gaze that looks for nothing. "What do you want?" you say defensively, the words stumbling out. It feels weird, this tongue, different from the one you've used most of your life. It's not an unpleasant language to speak, but the trees did not use it and neither do the gods.
He looks surprised. "You spoke!" he says, an accusation. "So you can."
You frown at him. "Of course I can. I spoke back in your field, as well."
"You said 'fuck' and 'mancala'. That doesn't count as speaking."
You refuse to answer him, shaking your head and sipping instead.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm glad. Now you can tell me your name."
You look at him over the brim of your bowl of soup. You take another long sip.
"C'mon, in exchange for my hospitality! It's only proper, you know," he says. "I invoke host rights, or whatever."
You sigh, cross your legs and adjust yourself in the creaking wooden chair you sit on. The rest of the soup leaves your belly warm and full and you know the price of it is your name, at the very least. You're hesitant for some reason, though. It's your's. You don't want to give it away. It feels too intimate for this boy to hold your name on his tongue. He's too human. But whatever.
"I'm Miya," you say.
He looks surprised. "Miya?"
"Miya."
August contemplates for a moment. His forever smile falls. This upsets the atmosphere of before, where you had felt comfortable enough. Your name, your name. What does he know?
"I knew someone named Miya, once," he says, thoughtful. The smile returns, though slight and without the carelessness of before. "She had brown hair, though."
You reach up to touch your short blonde locks.
He looks around for moment before clearing his throat. "Well, I guess I should sleep now." He stands up, stretches. "Thank you for telling me your name, Miya," August grins and then disappears into the one other room in his shack, leaving you sitting in his old rotting chair with an empty bowl of soup and two worn blankets on a pallet in the corner.
You grab the blankets and the chair you were sitting in and move it under one of the holes in the roof. You get comfortable and look up at the stars and say little prayers to each one. Eventually, the moon comes in to view and you watch it slowly disappear. Shadows keep you company, taking all the wayward thoughts that you don't want. And slowly, you watch the night be consumed by the sun.
August does not wake up for some time after sunrise. You let yourself out of his small home, thanking the wood walls because they were trees once, after all. The air is humid but not as heavy as it will be once noon comes around. You wonder what to do next.
You have no clue. So you pray.
You walk back into his rice field, letting your hand reach out and brush the tips of the stalks as you walk on the beaten path. The delicate touches tickle your palm. Insects fly out of the bushels and buzz in your ears. It's easily ignorable until you hear something in the white noise.
You fall.
The next step you took had you plunging forward, leaving your heart and lungs behind where you once stood. The buzzing floods your ear canals and you cannot think. You know there are things you should be able to see, as you fall. So many things that flash into your vision in an instant. You think you see infinity. You can't see anything.
No words are hidden in the buzzing. But there is a tail of something, some meaning that you're able to chase. You fall closer to the answer.
You land on your hands. You taste dirt and smell dung and feel the heat of a sun again. "Fuck," you say, and spit the dirt out of your mouth. The bugs are so loud. You climb to your feet, feeling so worn out, so tired, like your bones were all of the oceans and you had to hold them up. The gods were not gentle.
But at least you knew what to do now.
You turn back towards the shack, finally feeling purpose flood into your veins like adrenaline. You hate being used. You hate the empty carcass you've become. You hate the trees for stealing away your mother - you had to have had one. But you know you probably signed up for this, looking at the tattoo on your wrist that curled around like a circlet. A thin solid black line. You don't really know what it means, but there is an impression there. Some sense of duty. You know you probably do carry the oceans, and the mountains, too.
Miya smiles.
August wakes up.
