2 – The Willow (OLD)

Disclaimer
The likeness of Michael Kramer is used in this project through AI-generated technology. Please note that Michael Kramer did not record any audio for this content, and his voice is not being used for any monetary gain. The rights to Michael Kramer’s voice and likeness do not belong to Redmatter Creations. Furthermore, the voice and likeness of Michael Kramer will not be used in the final product.

I stayed in one spot for three hundred and fourty days before the cold became too much to bear.

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 stretches up to our waists, 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 how they could?” he gestures toward the city miles away. “They were allowed to live in one place 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 to be able to raise Brena normally. The last thing I want is for Hadrian to change his mind.”

I understand what he means. Before Hadrian entered my life when I was young, My parents raised me here. I got to experience a passing in a safe and stable area, thanks to my parents. 

Once we pass the threshold into the suburb, the first thing we do is make our way to the giant willow tree. It is massive and can be seen from anywhere in the town. Details on the trunk become more clear the closer I get to it. The tree stands in the middle of the street and the road splits around it. The diameter trunk of the tree had to be twice my wingspan, about ten feet across.

Many small carvings have been made. Stick figure families and meaningful words. One in particular catches my eye. Two letters inside of a heart. J + M. Jerrin and Mayra. My parents. I want to believe they could still be here, but I know they aren’t. Will I ever have my initials carved on a tree with someone I love?

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, “Lets check out 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. It’s elaborate on the outside. It’s a tall brick house painted black with a porch. He turns the handle and pushes the door inward. 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 to love this.” He says. He peeks around the corners before running up the stairs. He disappears into a room. I also look 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 voice, “What are you doing here?”

Who is he talking to? Did Brena follow behind us without us knowing? 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!” 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, picking the cat up by the armpits.

“Beef Iron Mutilator?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“Yeah! Beefy for short.” He responds. “I wanted to 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 know these streets, subconsciously. My conscious mind says that this is new.

A fresh wave of recognition washes over me. That’s it. That’s my home. It’s a brick house with a large distinct window. Its green paint has been chipped and it looks visually unappealing. However, the structure stayed intact all these years later.

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. It’s smaller than he remembers, likely because he got bigger.

Theres an old brown couch that could seat up to three people, but springs and padding extruded from it. The wooden floor underneath the couch is scratched up. The end table next to the couch had been knocked on its side. It’s wooden legs had decayed but still bore an intricate design. Someone created this table. They must have painstakingly carved this design.

These relics of the past fill me with sadness. I find myself trying to envision myself in this house 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 in relatively 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. The carpet in front of the window is sunbleached. I search the drawers and find sheets made for a twin-sized bed. 

I can’t wait to sleep here tonight. I don’t even remember what a bed feels like. I’ve been sleeping on the ground almost my entire life.

I find the bathroom. The tiled floor is cracked. There is a tub that could fit a whole body, a sink, and a toilet. The toilet is completely dry. Messing with knobs and dials on the appliances proves fruitless. I take the lid off the tank behind the toilet. Inside is a strange mechanism with strings, plugs, and levers. Too complicated for me right now. I leave it for later, exploring the next room.

My parent’s bed is the same size as my own. I’m not entirely sure how they both fit on here. I take a seat on the mattress taking it all in. My quiver must have tilted too far back because bolts rattle across the wooden floor of my parent’s bedroom.

I begin to pick up the bolts from the ground and set them on the bed. One rolled under the dresser. I kneel down, shoving my whole arm underneath, trying to feel for it. My hand brushes up against… something. It is stationary. I grab and pull but with no luck. Press my face against the ground, looking underneath the dresser. What is that?

I shove the dresser over. It scratches against the hardwood floor leaving behind a mark. No, those marks have been there. I continue until it is fully out of the way. What’s left is another secret. A trapdoor. I retrieve the last bolt from the ground and set it with the others. What could be hiding down here?

I squat down, grabbing the handle of the trap door, and lift. It isn’t attached to a hinge, so it comes right out, revealing a stairway into a dark room. Cool air hits my face and I am greeted with the smell of blood.

Alarms go off in my head but are deafened by my curiosity. If there is any danger down here, a crossbow wouldn’t work well, so I unsheathe my knife and grip it tightly in my hand. I’ve never used a knife in a combat situation, but I feel like I could hold my own.

The wooden steps creak as I descend into the blinding darkness. I place my hand on the concrete wall next to me to keep my balance. My sweaty skin rejoices at the cold air.

 My eyes begin to adjust and I can discern what looks like figures hanging from the ceiling. Are those bodies? The longer I remain in the dark, the more my eyes adjust and I can make out more detail. The bodies hanging from the ceiling were skinned completely, revealing muscle and sinew. They looked like deer carcasses, but their heads were completely removed. There had to be at least twenty, frozen and preserved for the last nineteen passings. This could feed us for weeks.

I scan the room again, looking for anything else that could be of use. In the corner of the room is a butcher’s table and a cleaving knife. If I want to butcher my own carcasses, I could do it here. Unfortunately, I’d need someone like Mattias to teach me how to do it correctly, which isn’t something I’d want to do.

The buck that Oberon and I shot yesterday, should still last us for another two days so I decide to leave these carcasses down here until we need them. The flesh has dried out completely, so all this meat will only allow us jerky. Jerky is great for rationing or when you are on the move. It just isn’t good as a meal.

I make one last pass, scanning the mostly empty basement for anything else before heading back upstairs. I lay the trapdoor back over the opening and push the dresser on top of it. I collect my crossbow and quiver and begin to head out to Oberon’s. I make a mental note of my house’s location, memorizing the numbers on the door: 445.

Where is that woman we saw? Is she still in this town, hiding in one of the houses? Or did she go into the city? The location of the moon in the sky tells me it is evening. Have we been here for that long? 

I begin to make my way to Oberon’s new residence. I count the intact houses on the way and realize that we could house everyone in The Brightest. Maybe more. How many other secrets do these houses hold? I guess we will find out when more people move in.

I barge into Oberon’s house and he is on the floor in the living room playing with his cat. I wonder if he’d been playing with him this entire time.

“Caelius!” Oberon says excitedly, “Look at what Beefy can do.” He gets up from the ground and the cat sits down 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 he has been working on. Speak!” He commands.

“Mah.” The cat says.

“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 but I don’t want to know how long Oberon has been training him to do that. How much of Oberon’s jerky was in the belly of that cat? 

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