2 – The Willow

Thank you for reading The Bright Spot. While this version is more refined than an early draft, it’s still a work in progress and does not reflect the final form of the novel. I expect to complete at least two more rounds of revisions before publication. You may encounter formatting quirks such as double spaces, missing punctuation, or repeated words—these are often artifacts from my editing software. If you notice any inconsistencies, or if something takes you out of the story, I’d truly appreciate hearing from you. Feel free to email me at shawn@redmattercreations.com. Your feedback is invaluable as I work to make this story the best it can be.

While it was previously speculated, I was able to confirm that a calendar Passing takes three hundred and forty days.

From the Journal of Azura Seren. -Turseno section, 28th rotation

Oberon and I continue traveling down the road leading to Hollyard. I keep my eye out for anyone who may jump out at us. The grass on the side of the road stands to our waists. My hand subconsciously hovers over my crossbow as anyone could be hiding in there.

“Don’t you ever get tired of all this?” Oberon asks. The seriousness of it catches me off guard, especially since he walks so whimsically.

“What do you mean, specifically?”

“Like the Path,” he says. “You know—walkin’ ‘round this planet over and over until we die? Why did they get to live in paradise?” He gestures toward the city miles away. “They could just live in one place their entire lives and build these massive buildings. And we are just stuck with their scraps.” I can tell he’s been thinking about this for a while now. “I just want t’ be able to raise Brena normally. The last thing I want is for Hadrian t’ change his mind.”

I understand what he means. Its hard for me to imagine a stable life. I’ve been traveling since birth. I may have spent less than a passing here with my parents before continuing. That was the last time I had a break.

The massive willow tree is the first thing we see. From a vantage point, it seems to sit right in the center of town. The grandiose nature of the tree strikes me with awe as we draw closer. Its in the center of a cul-de-sac. A road circles around it and extravagant houses sit on the perimeter. The diameter of it’s trunk had to be twice my wingspan, about ten feet across.

Oberon admires it with me as well. The leaves dome over us touching the ground, providing shade from the sun. It is a beautiful experience. We stand there together, taking it all in.

We survey the town after we are finished admiring the tree. I want to try to find the house I used to live in, but my memory of this place is blank. “I’m ‘onna be the first to call dibs on any house I want!” Oberon shouts. Before I could respond, he points at one down the street. “Like that one!”

Many of the houses have completely deteriorated over the last six hundred passings, the roofs caving in or the wood structure failing to keep them held up. The few that are still intact are built with brick and mortar.

I follow Oberon into the house he found. The decorum on the outside is elaborate. It’s a tall brick house painted black with a large porch. Faded gold trim lines the windows weaving a intricate floral pattern. He turns the handle and pushes the door inward. It squeals loudly as it swings away from us. The interior is just as intricate as the exterior. A staircase leads to a second floor. To the right is an opening to a living room, and opposite to that is the kitchen and bathroom.

“Oh yeah, Dolora is going t’ love this,” he says, peeking around the corners before running up the stairs. He disappears into a room on the left. I also peer around his house. Could this be the same one I grew up in? I can’t be sure. Before I could survey the rooms on the first floor, I hear Oberon’s muffled voice through the walls. “What are you doing here?”

Who is he talking to? Was it possible Brena followed behind us without us knowing? What if she lost us? What if that odd person kidnapped or killed her? We wouldn’t have known. I stumble up the stairs, and what I see is the last thing I expected.

Oberon is holding a large orange cat in his arms. “Caelius. Kitty!” His stupid smile splits his face and I can’t help but grin.

I am speechless. I watch as this grown man melts because of a fuzzy creature.

“Look, he likes me.” He pulls out a piece of venison jerky and the cat accepts the offering. It makes smacking noises with its mouth as it attempts to chew the tough meat.

“I think he just likes your food,” I say.

He ignores me. “I think I’m gonna call you ‘Beef Iron Mutilator,’” Oberon says, booping the cat on the nose.

“Beef Iron Mutilator?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“Yeah! Beefy for short,” he responds. “I wanted t’ name Brena that, but Dolora said ‘no can do.’”

“Good for her.”

He glares at me. “Mah?” the cat says to Oberon.

“I know! Can you believe the nerve of this guy?” Oberon replies. “Some people, Beefy.”

I roll my eyes. I should go look for my house. “You two explore this house a bit more. I’m going to go look for my old place.”

“Your old place?” Oberon asks. “You lived here?”

“A long time ago. When my parents took care of me.”

I leave Oberon’s new home and begin searching for my own. It doesn’t take me long. I don’t know where I’m going, but my feet do.

My breath catches in my throat when I see it. It’s a brick house with a large, distinct window. It’s green paint, has flaked away in patches, peeling like bark. This is it. My home.

The door creaks open as I peer in. It enters right into the living room. Nostalgia hits me like an ocean wave. The room is dim and the only light comes through the window. The ceiling used to be so high up, but now I can reach it with my hand.

A brown old couch with springs and padding extruding from the cushions lay against a wall. The wooden floor underneath bears scratches from the furniture’s leg’s. The end table had fallen over onto its side. A pattern grew along the legs, despite being worn down and chipped. Someone created this table, painstakingly carving this design. They must have measured each component precisely for everything to fit together.

These relics of the past give me whiplash. That person is dead now. There’s no one to tell him he did a good job—that his work is appreciated. . I try to envision myself in this house over 600 passings ago, before the Freezing of the World. I would sit next to the love of my life in this very couch, watching our children play together. It is hard to think of a world vastly different from my own. A world where you wouldn’t freeze to death in the Darkness.

The kitchen is partially sectioned off from the living room. How many meals have been prepared here? How long had this house been standing before The Freezing of The World? For being over 600 passings old, this house is still in good condition. I could still see the remnants of white paint on the kitchen cupboards. I look through each cupboard and drawer curiously to see if there is anything important. There isn’t.

My room is exactly how I left it. The superhero sheets are unmade and soggy, with a slight stench of mildew. I’ll need to wash or replace these sheets somewhere. Or maybe just toss them. Light peers through the window onto a sun-bleached section of the carpet. I search a drawer and find clean sheets made for a twin-sized bed.

When was the last time I slept on a comfortable bed? I don’t remember . I’ve been sleeping on the ground almost my entire life.

The bathroom isn’t much different than the other bathrooms I’ve seen during my travels. Except this one has a bathtub. Like the others, this toilet is also completely dry. Sometimes they’d be filled with water, but most of the time, human waste. Messing with knobs and dials on the appliance proves fruitless. How does this thing work? I take the lid off the tank behind the toilet and peer inside to see a strange mechanism with strings, plugs, and levers. Too complicated for me right now. I leave it for later, heading to explore the next room.

Something catches my eye in the mirror above the sink. It was only light reflected from the window but blue eyes meet mine in the reflection, Eyes of someone very familiar. Staring back at me is a man—not a child. I’d somehow let my brown hair grow past my ears. More hair thinly paints my cheeks, chin, and lip.

My parents’ room is laid out identically to mine, but mirrored. The bed is the same size as my own, the dresser stands at the edge, and a nightstand is placed in the corner. I lightly brush my hand against the sheets, taking in it’s soft texture. Mom and dad slept here together. I’m not sure how they both fit. I miss them everyday and seeing their room again nearly brings me to tears. I can’t cry though. I’ve cried enough over them. I pull the comforter up to my face and breathe in, hoping to capture any last scent from them.

Instead, I’m greeted with the mustiness of mildew. I sigh, setting the comforter back. I should toss these sheets out too, but could I bring myself to do that? make one last pass, scanning the room. I collect my crossbow and quiver and head out to find Oberon. I turn to take another look at my house, making a mental note of it’s location—only a couple of blocks south from the willow cul-de-sac.

I freeze in my tracks. That individual we saw earlier. Where were they? Are there more, ready to ambush me? Could they be hiding in one of the houses? Or did they go into the city? The location of the moon in the sky tells me it is mid-day. Have we been here for that long?

I make my way to Oberon’s new residence, hand hovering over my crossbow, just in case. I’ve never had to kill anyone, and I’m not sure if I could bring myself to do so, but I want to be ready if I do. I count the intact houses on the way. We could house everyone in the Brightest. Maybe more.

I barge into Oberon’s house and he is on the floor in the living room, playing with his cat. Was he playing with him this entire time?

“Caelius!” Oberon says excitedly. “Look at what Beefy can do.” He pushes himself off the ground and the cat sits, staring up at him. Oberon reveals a piece of jerky from his pocket and the cat watches intensely. “Okay, Beefers, time to show Caelius what we have been working on. Speak!” he commands.

“Mah,” the cat screams.

“Good boy!” He puts the jerky in front of the cat’s face and he snatches it out of his fingers, making a smacking noise as he chews it up.

“That sure is…something,” I say. Oberon’s stupid grin is contagious. It’s impressive and I can’t help but wonder how much jerky was in the belly of that cat. Oberon should have been doing something more important this entire time, instead of playing with an animal—like scouting the area and making sure it’s safe. To be fair, I didn’t either. How much jerky is in the belly of that cat?

“Come on, Hadrian and the rest should be here soon,” I say, waving my hand. They follow me outside, where we see a woman swinging by her neck from the willow’s branches.