02-23-2020, 09:18 PM
There is pain like no other that burns angrily in Thorn’s chest. Taking back what has been is clearly out of the question. He cannot return to the crushed skull of his brother, and he cannot return to the happy faces of his family . . . but still he dashes madly for that light that must be what saves him.
“What have you done?” Thorn looks up in horror at the shocked face of Bea. His heart thuds violently in his chest.
“I—I don’t know. I didn’t—-” but he can’t finish, boyish face falling slack in a complete lack of understanding. Bea is now peering down at the crushed body of a green snake. Tears pool hot and heavy in Thorn’s eyes.
A few seconds ago, the creature still had some fight in it. Writhing and angry, the serpent hissed when Thorn stepped on it in fear. He gasped as the little light in its black eyes began to die. If he was quick on his feet—and a much more shrewd being—he might have been able to hide the death before his siblings found him.
But Thorn is a sweet thing. He merely stared in horror.
“Mama said the green ones are good!” Rosine gasps once she stumbles upon the pair. Thorn looks up at her with glassy eyes.
“I tried to fix it . . .” he moans. It was too late. He was too young and too afraid.
“Stop!” Thorn screams. The puppies are rolling and roughhousing. They tease and push and prod. Thorn, exceptionally sensitive as he is, quickly grows overwhelmed. Just a moment before, he had stumbled to the earth over his gangly front legs and slammed his head into the dirt. He is too disorientated to use his healing. The pain is hot and quickly fills his brain with white noise.
The other three slowly come to a halt and peer at Thorn quizzically. He crumbles beneath the weight of their stares and turns his back.
“Come on, Thorn,” Bea says, childish voice mildly exasperated, “it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to you,” the winged sabino snaps, dopey voice suddenly too harsh for his age. “You don’t know what it’s like.” He starts to cry and for once anger instead of sadness wells in his throat.
“Are you serious, Thorn?” Rosine prods, sounding more irritated than Bea.
“Guys, let’s—” Tamlin starts to defend him, but Thorn cuts him off with, “I hate you.”
He runs into the overhanging ferns, leaving the trio to sit in stunned silence.
A Tephran summer is in full swing. Crickets chirp peacefully in the background of the Wonderlocks’ tropical nest. Thorn is sulking quietly beneath a large elephant ear leaf. His ears are turned back into his mane and his head is tucked dramatically over his curled legs. The white and black feathers of his wings ruffle angrily as he tucks them too tight to his back.
“Thorn.”
The colt looks surprised when he finds his father standing over him. “Papa,” he parrots back, returning his head to his legs.
“Cut it out. I want you to come for a walk with me.” The undertone of Nightlock’s request tells the boy he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.
“Okay,” Thorn concedes with a sigh, dragging his clumsy legs beneath him. “Where to?”
“Out,” Nightlock replies with his signature vaguery.
They pad on for a while, fading afternoon sun turning into a beautiful dusk. Thorn occasionally looks nervously up at his dad, stumbling over a pebble here and there. The image of his concerned siblings’ faces as they watched the pair leave are burned into his mind. He hadn’t spoken to them since his outburst earlier that morning.
Finally, Nightlock comes to a halt beneath the deepening shadow of a rainbow eucalyptus tree. Thorn’s purple eyes distantly study the colors before finding his father’s gaze.
“You can’t speak to your siblings like that.”
“What are you talking about?” Thorn snaps, though his face immediately shows his regret. Nightlock merely scowls and looks out at the environment behind his son.
“Your mother is extremely upset, not to mention how much you hurt your siblings’ feelings.”
“Yeah, well—” the colt starts to rebuke, but his father quickly cuts him off.
“Save it, Thorn. There is no reason at all for you to say that to Bea, Rosine, or Tamlin. None.”
“Yeah? Well, I hate you, too.” This time he spits it, but he sounds more calm. Thorn pivots on his back legs and rushes through the underbrush, tearing streaming from his eyes.
“Thorn!” Nightlock cries, and for a moment the boy thinks he hears a sliver of hurt.
An electric shock jolts Thorn’s eyes open. The room he had run into is full of all of the familiar faces he has ever known: Mama, Papa, all of his siblings, even Prayer (a fleeting childhood crush). He stares at them in shock as endless relief washes over him. Tamlin is distinctively missing but for just one second, he does not think of his dead body in the previous chamber.
“Mom—” Thorn begins, but the magician finds his gaze with a furious one of her own.
“You killed him, Thorn? My son? My baby boy? How are you still standing? How have you not thrown yourself against the wall until your brain is mush on the ground? You killed him, my favorite son. He never yelled the word hate at his family. Do you really think you deserve to be here over him?”
“Wait . . .” Thorn is dazed. His ears begin to ring. “What . . . ?”
Nightlock steps forward. “Remember when you told me you hated me?” Thorn gulps in response, dragging his eyes to Nightlock’s empty ones. “Why did you say that to me? I was trying so hard to show you I loved you. I thought I was getting better.” Nightlock cocks his head to the side, a simple smile lifting his lips. “I know why you said it. Because I hate you, too. Because I’ve always hated you the most. I was tired of your crying and your sensitivity. And look what you did! You finally got me to hate you.”
The rest of Thorn’s siblings group together and step forward. “And what about us, Thorn?” Their voices ring together like hell’s best chorus. “You never apologized for what you said. And the little ones? You made sure they never knew of the hate in your heart while the rest of us had to live a fantasy. We know how much you wish you were alone. We know you wish we would disappear. You’re spoiled. You don’t deserve the love you have.”
Thorn’s strong heart shrivels. His heartbeat grows faint and his legs begin to wobble.
“Please . . .” he whispers on a weak breath. “I’m sorry . . .”
Prayer is the last one to step forward.
“You know I died, right, Thorn? Maybe if you had stuck around, you could have saved me from that hungry sister I told you about. But you didn’t stick around. You never do, not even for your family. You deserve this.” Her words are the least personal, but they are ones to kick his heart into hell.
“Stop!” Thorn screams, dry throat suddenly sore from the force of it. He shoulders his tall body through the much shorter crowd, not caring who he hurts in the process.
Just as they thought he would.
—
“What have you done?” Thorn looks up in horror at the shocked face of Bea. His heart thuds violently in his chest.
“I—I don’t know. I didn’t—-” but he can’t finish, boyish face falling slack in a complete lack of understanding. Bea is now peering down at the crushed body of a green snake. Tears pool hot and heavy in Thorn’s eyes.
A few seconds ago, the creature still had some fight in it. Writhing and angry, the serpent hissed when Thorn stepped on it in fear. He gasped as the little light in its black eyes began to die. If he was quick on his feet—and a much more shrewd being—he might have been able to hide the death before his siblings found him.
But Thorn is a sweet thing. He merely stared in horror.
“Mama said the green ones are good!” Rosine gasps once she stumbles upon the pair. Thorn looks up at her with glassy eyes.
“I tried to fix it . . .” he moans. It was too late. He was too young and too afraid.
—
“Stop!” Thorn screams. The puppies are rolling and roughhousing. They tease and push and prod. Thorn, exceptionally sensitive as he is, quickly grows overwhelmed. Just a moment before, he had stumbled to the earth over his gangly front legs and slammed his head into the dirt. He is too disorientated to use his healing. The pain is hot and quickly fills his brain with white noise.
The other three slowly come to a halt and peer at Thorn quizzically. He crumbles beneath the weight of their stares and turns his back.
“Come on, Thorn,” Bea says, childish voice mildly exasperated, “it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to you,” the winged sabino snaps, dopey voice suddenly too harsh for his age. “You don’t know what it’s like.” He starts to cry and for once anger instead of sadness wells in his throat.
“Are you serious, Thorn?” Rosine prods, sounding more irritated than Bea.
“Guys, let’s—” Tamlin starts to defend him, but Thorn cuts him off with, “I hate you.”
He runs into the overhanging ferns, leaving the trio to sit in stunned silence.
—
A Tephran summer is in full swing. Crickets chirp peacefully in the background of the Wonderlocks’ tropical nest. Thorn is sulking quietly beneath a large elephant ear leaf. His ears are turned back into his mane and his head is tucked dramatically over his curled legs. The white and black feathers of his wings ruffle angrily as he tucks them too tight to his back.
“Thorn.”
The colt looks surprised when he finds his father standing over him. “Papa,” he parrots back, returning his head to his legs.
“Cut it out. I want you to come for a walk with me.” The undertone of Nightlock’s request tells the boy he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.
“Okay,” Thorn concedes with a sigh, dragging his clumsy legs beneath him. “Where to?”
“Out,” Nightlock replies with his signature vaguery.
They pad on for a while, fading afternoon sun turning into a beautiful dusk. Thorn occasionally looks nervously up at his dad, stumbling over a pebble here and there. The image of his concerned siblings’ faces as they watched the pair leave are burned into his mind. He hadn’t spoken to them since his outburst earlier that morning.
Finally, Nightlock comes to a halt beneath the deepening shadow of a rainbow eucalyptus tree. Thorn’s purple eyes distantly study the colors before finding his father’s gaze.
“You can’t speak to your siblings like that.”
“What are you talking about?” Thorn snaps, though his face immediately shows his regret. Nightlock merely scowls and looks out at the environment behind his son.
“Your mother is extremely upset, not to mention how much you hurt your siblings’ feelings.”
“Yeah, well—” the colt starts to rebuke, but his father quickly cuts him off.
“Save it, Thorn. There is no reason at all for you to say that to Bea, Rosine, or Tamlin. None.”
“Yeah? Well, I hate you, too.” This time he spits it, but he sounds more calm. Thorn pivots on his back legs and rushes through the underbrush, tearing streaming from his eyes.
“Thorn!” Nightlock cries, and for a moment the boy thinks he hears a sliver of hurt.
—
An electric shock jolts Thorn’s eyes open. The room he had run into is full of all of the familiar faces he has ever known: Mama, Papa, all of his siblings, even Prayer (a fleeting childhood crush). He stares at them in shock as endless relief washes over him. Tamlin is distinctively missing but for just one second, he does not think of his dead body in the previous chamber.
“Mom—” Thorn begins, but the magician finds his gaze with a furious one of her own.
“You killed him, Thorn? My son? My baby boy? How are you still standing? How have you not thrown yourself against the wall until your brain is mush on the ground? You killed him, my favorite son. He never yelled the word hate at his family. Do you really think you deserve to be here over him?”
“Wait . . .” Thorn is dazed. His ears begin to ring. “What . . . ?”
Nightlock steps forward. “Remember when you told me you hated me?” Thorn gulps in response, dragging his eyes to Nightlock’s empty ones. “Why did you say that to me? I was trying so hard to show you I loved you. I thought I was getting better.” Nightlock cocks his head to the side, a simple smile lifting his lips. “I know why you said it. Because I hate you, too. Because I’ve always hated you the most. I was tired of your crying and your sensitivity. And look what you did! You finally got me to hate you.”
The rest of Thorn’s siblings group together and step forward. “And what about us, Thorn?” Their voices ring together like hell’s best chorus. “You never apologized for what you said. And the little ones? You made sure they never knew of the hate in your heart while the rest of us had to live a fantasy. We know how much you wish you were alone. We know you wish we would disappear. You’re spoiled. You don’t deserve the love you have.”
Thorn’s strong heart shrivels. His heartbeat grows faint and his legs begin to wobble.
“Please . . .” he whispers on a weak breath. “I’m sorry . . .”
Prayer is the last one to step forward.
“You know I died, right, Thorn? Maybe if you had stuck around, you could have saved me from that hungry sister I told you about. But you didn’t stick around. You never do, not even for your family. You deserve this.” Her words are the least personal, but they are ones to kick his heart into hell.
“Stop!” Thorn screams, dry throat suddenly sore from the force of it. He shoulders his tall body through the much shorter crowd, not caring who he hurts in the process.
Just as they thought he would.