The Prophecy of Water | ✔️ 🎖 [2018 Wattys Shortlister]

CHAPTER 13-Mother's Wrath

You can miss places. You can miss people. But can you miss yourself? I miss myself.

LoG, 284

Drian was leaning against the earthen wall, waiting. The Wellers of all ages surrounded him. They rushed from one side of The Bottom to the other, in various directions. Everybody ran around him on all fours, creating the sense of urgency in Drian. To him, it looked as if they weren't the humans that were passing him by, but the ghastly silhouettes of various animals.

Everyone was now saying goodbye to old Meno as they saw fit.

If you can even say goodbye to someone whose brain had just been spilt, Drian thought, half-amused, half-indignant. The next day they will take him to The Tunnel of Glory, according to Liton. I wonder where he is. Probably issuing orders related to Meno's Rising. I hope that Sceptagog's mother will soon prepare the body. It wouldn't be good for us to get caught by The Dark.

Four Wellers who stood close to Drian were playing with a little girl. When he strained his eyes to see them better, he recognised the child he gave the water to drink only a few hours ago.

Mila. Liton said that was her name.

She turned around and stared at him.

Oh, yes. Superhearing or whatever. She must have developed it underground, in the darkness, along with a lack of vision.

A second later, she was standing beside him, covered with a dirty black cloth. She bared her teeth in a sign of recognition. Then she pounded her hands on the ground, squealing and turning in circles. Eventually, Mila pulled something out of her waist "apron" and offered it to him.

"Thank you, this ... Um ... It's very nice of you," Drian cleared his throat, not knowing what to do with the hard rectangular thing.

Mila pointed to her mouth and patted her stomach. "Eat. That–is–food," she barked and smiled when he tried to take out a pocket-shaped stone knife.

"So, I should just bite it?" Drian grinned back.

Mila nodded vigorously.

Drian shrugged and sank his teeth with all his might into a piece of tough and resistant meat. Then, he closed his eyes in pain but made sure not to complain about anything. I hope I didn't break my tooth. In the name of Mind! What are these people eating? Where did she get this meat from? I bet it's not from The Market Square. Oh well. If it's tasty, it's best not to think about its origins.

He patted the girl on the head. She happily bounced back and returned to the adults who were expecting her.

Apart from them being strong and physically fit... There is a kindred spirit of unity and belonging among them. I never felt anything like that at The House of Credo when The Mind or The Fount were in question. The Wellers are always bound to one another. They have each other. And what about me? I was always on my own or committed to an abstract creator instead of dedicating myself to living human beings around me. My controlling father surely doesn't count as one.

A moment later, Drian repented for such thoughts. He gently touched a whirlwind on his robe as always when he felt nervous.

As he watched the small community, he thought what it would be like to immortalise them in his painting. He loved to paint. There were already colours, forms, and thousands of voices that constantly shouted and screaming in his head. They wanted Drian to hear them out, giving suggestions on how he could portray them.

Liton surprised him, slapping him on his back. "What's up? Why so thoughtful? Ready to go?"

"Where's the body?" Drian looked around.