Haunt of Dawn

Click, click, click.

The sound doesn’t come anywhere but inside my head. It almost feels like a clock ticking, mixed with a weird rifle load, telling me the hunt will start soon. The prey is in their line of sight, and the hunters are ready to act.

I’m in my bedroom, lying on the bed. Trying to erase the memories of the day. Laughter, applause, screams, begging, and pleas. The room feels suffocating, so I open the window next to my bed.

The moon is nowhere to be seen; the only brightness comes from the candle in the room. It makes me uncomfortable to see myself and my room. There is another room in my memory, very similar to this one, but it wasn’t comfortable or warm.

I put my focus on the flame; the more intense the feelings are, the more intense the flicker becomes. Like, I can see everything in that flicker that happened today, and everything will be happening soon.

Click, click, click.

People are getting ready for another hunt, filling their rifles with shotshells, putting their arrows at their backs and bows in their hands. Proud to be there, proud to complete another difficult task, proud of doing whatever the hell they are expected to do.

Happy birthday to me.

Bringing joy and honour to my family. That’s what the elders were saying this morning. This is what they were waiting for. Another flesh, another living being, old enough to perform, young enough to influence.

Only males can attend the celebrations; females would only bring misfortune, and well, something else, but God knows what.

Normally, I wouldn’t be included in this year's celebrations, but my dad died last summer, so I am the only male in the family, and every male household head has to attend the celebrations. Otherwise, the community will ban them. They will be left out, never included in anything, and always looked down on. It might sound horrible, but I don’t care what happens to mum. She is a grown woman and must take care of her family. She never cared about others, not even her family. But I have a responsibility for my sister. She is still so young, and I cannot have her suffer the consequences of my or mum’s actions.

The thoughts are pouring into my head like a broken tap will fill the sink. Not sure if it’s the flame that makes things more vivid, or if they are already a part of my brain and will see them wherever I look, and for as long as I look.

I blew the candle out; the pictures are there for me to see, even behind the curtain of darkness, but what’s more vivid now is the sounds. I look outside the window. Even the stars are hidden behind clouds as if everything we do brings darkness rather than joy and fertility.

It’s funny to think about fertility, just this morning we cut the throat of a girl so the lands would be more fertile for the following summer. It wasn’t me who was holding the knife, but I was one of the guys who was holding her. She was clearly several years older than I am, and I have to say, despite the fear and hatred in her eyes, she was one of the most attractive females I’d seen. It’s a shame that she had to die.

You might think of me as a monster, and in a way, I am.

I turn my head to my room, barely see anything – not that I need it at the moment. I want to lie down and forget everything for a time being.

The door opens suddenly. I hate the cracking sound, so I often wipe the hinges with oil. It feels like the time to do it again.

Mum is standing at the entrance of my room. She never fully comes into the room; she always stays at the edge, like a visitor who came to see a lion. Close enough to see the animal but far away in case anything dangerous happens. It’s funny that they decide to come near with an animal even behind the cage.

“Close the window, you’ll get cold.”

“Did you hear anything about knocking on the door?”

“I haven’t seen you the whole day. Come inside and eat something”

“I don’t have an appetite.”

“It doesn’t matter; the elders send some meat and some sacrificial blood for you to put on your forehead.”

“You can use it if you want, I don’t care what they sent it. I’m not going to put a victim’s blood on my forehead”

“Isaac! How dare you! This is the biggest honour you could get. Don’t be difficult; come to the living room instantly. I’ll show you how to do it. I’ve already put on your sister’s forehead”

I hate her voice, her face, her soul, her everything. If a person can hate someone this much, this would probably be my mum. She’s never done anything bad to me, didn’t beat me, humiliate me, or force me to be useful. She just uses my sister as a tool against me, like how she did to my dad.

My sister is almost 5 years old, and she barely understands what’s happening around her. Females cannot leave the house without a male present if they are under 16 years old, and they cannot touch anything holy because they are filthy and unworthy.

These are my mum’s words. She chants these daily to my sister, never lets her smile or ask a question. She says there are only several things women can do, and one of them is to give birth to the elder’s kids, or if she is not worthy enough for it, then she can still be saved by the sacrificial celebrations, and her blood would wash the soil and bring good luck to the world once again.

The words don’t come out, there’s no answer I want to give her and no answer that can satisfy my disappointment in my words.

I look at her face. The only light is coming from behind her in the living room. She, too, was sitting in silence, where only light came from the fireplace. I cannot tell what kind of face she is making, but she can clearly see my disgust and hatred towards her.

The silence hung between us; she probably doesn’t know what to say. Her head moved towards the wall opposite my bed. My hunting arrows are on the wall next to the fox skull decoration I made from a real fox skull.

She turned her head towards my direction once more. Cleared her throat, definitely planning to say something clever or appropriate to the situation. I just wait; whatever she wants to say, she can get on with it and leave me alone.

“Your dad would be proud of you for what you’ve done today.”

I’ll be damned! Is this the only word these people know? ‘Proud’

It seems everyone was waiting for me to do something they could be proud of. But for some reason, that thing isn’t actually something to be proud of.

I think I'm proud of myself. I don’t have an answer yet, but I know one thing for sure: that wouldn’t be. He hated everything about celebrations and the rituals of this foreign place, but this was where he could eat and have a place to put his head. Such a shame he wasn’t aware of the consequences.

She stammers something else that I no longer wish to comprehend; her voice disappears in the room and probably leaves the room through my open window.

She leaves the room as her words do immediately, without slamming the door for once. She used to show her disappointment with Dad like that. Maybe she doesn’t want Remi to wake up suddenly.

Tomorrow, a new hunt will begin, and they want me to take charge.

There’s a relief in the darkness and silence, I can see it now. No misery, no tears, no promises, no consequences – just a brief nothingness to help me see more clearly. I look around my room, and in the corner, a backpack is hidden behind all those random things. It’s not mine; it looks older, used. I light the candle again with the matches next to it. The smoke travels around me like a wave of water and leaves its mark on me.

I take the candle next to my bed and empty the backpack on my bed. There’s a pocket knife, glasses in their cover, maps, rope and a lot of scrap paper. In recent years, my dad used to go hunting on his own rather than with villagers. Various herbs and plants he’d find near the roads. Whenever we were feeling unwell, he would make tea from those herbs for us. Honestly, it was more useful than any medicine. Or at least that’s what I’d think. Considering we weren’t allowed to use medicine that came from cities.

Just once, I’ve seen him using a white capsule-like thing on my sister when she was so ill that everyone thought she’d die soon. But she didn’t; everyone thought this was a miracle, as this village was blessed with their sacrifices, but the reality might very well be what my dad gave to my sister.

He saw me but never told me to be quiet about it or explained what it was. Just looked at my face for a brief moment and never brought the topic up.

Looking at the contents, I’ve realised there were so many things here that could be used in the wild. He even had a flint to use. I don’t remember seeing him with this pack at all, though. The ones he used were different from this one and were always in his room. Before he died, he told us that he had lost his bag and wanted to buy a new one in case he needed it.

I’ve never seen him getting a new one, but here I was looking at the bag, which clearly didn’t belong to me, or I had never seen my dad with it, but everything inside was his.

The small pocket had a rolled piece of paper in it. It was creased here and there, and as I tried to smooth it, I realised it was another map, with circled parts. The map showed the edges of Armille Mountain, not far from here, but not close enough either. Villagers wouldn’t go there; they would say the unholy spirits would live there, and any man who entered would be cursed. They’d lose their manhood.

Such a joke!

I’ve never been there, but I’m almost certain I wouldn’t lose my manhood. While folding the map again, I realised there was a smaller piece of paper attached to it. More like taped. As the map paper is thick, you couldn’t see the writing behind it.

I carefully untaped the paper, and a page fell, filled with my dad’s writing.

It was like a diary entry ripped from a notebook.

5 November 1879

The Armille Forest lies behind the river that separates the upper village, and no one is willing to come here.

I find various useful herbs in here. I’m not entirely sure whether they’re fully poisonous. They look so similar to the ones we use. But I’ll take the risk. The previous batch I used on myself was very useful. It helps with the headaches.

Remi needs more medicine, but the villagers won’t let me leave their sight, so I need to use organic ones.

I leave very early in the morning. I’m one of the most experienced hunters they have, so they don’t mind me wandering around alone.

Well, they’re probably not aware of where I’ve been.

I hope it stays as it is for a while longer

Until I find more useful things

12 January 1880

Remi is getting better!

The herbs are actually useful; I’ll start documenting them in my journal. Sometimes I realise Isaac is looking at me and trying to understand what I am doing.

Should I tell him what I’ve been doing for the last couple of years? He is no longer a child, and I know he would understand.

The only person I can rely on is him. The woman I’m married to is untrustworthy, and she suspects everything I’m doing. Her eyes are always on me, and she tries to poison Remi with her tongue. She doesn’t talk to Isaac at all. Even in front of me. Pretends he doesn’t exist.

Maybe because he is too similar to me, not the way he looks, but how he acts. I know he’ll be forced to attend the ritual when I’m gone. So, I’ll make sure to record everything I know and see in here and give it to him when the time comes.

25 March 1880

Sonya found out that I’ve been wandering off to the forbidden mountains and started threatening me to tell the villagers.

Remi is finally better and no longer needs any medication. Sonya keeps her away from me almost all the time I’m at home. Isaac’s eyes are on me constantly, but they’re different from Sonya's. His eyes are not filled with hatred towards me, but towards her, and she knows that.

I don’t know how long I can keep her calm, but I know it won’t take long for her to go to the elders and ask for their guidance.

I wish this woman had never entered my life, but I had no choice but to take her. She promised me to keep my secret and take care of my boy. I guess her loyalty was never towards me but to the people she grew up with.

…

She arrived at the house quite late, with the elders by her side. I knew that moment, this won't take long. They asked me to join them on the monthly deer hunt. They wanted someone experienced with them, as the forest they’ve been planning to go to was full of unpredictable animals.

I know they don’t need my assistance on anything, but I cannot refuse them either. They know Isaac is not one of them. Sonya might have held everything about me and me. I know Remi will be safe for a long time, as she is still so young, and she is actually mine and Sonya’s kid.

But they hold no sympathy for a stranger’s son.

There are no more entries. I don’t know what to think or feel. It’s like a bag full of wind opened suddenly and took all the sunlight, warmth, and joy, leaving only destruction and, well, misery.

‘A stranger’s son’

I look at the word so long that the letters mix, and the word loses its meaning.

The calmness feels unnatural and unrealistic, but I really don’t have any feelings towards the things I’ve read.

It might be a shock, it might be something I’ve never realised before.

Suddenly, I feel relief, relief that I don’t have to feel guilty towards hating mum, relief that I don’t want to be a part of anything in here. And hatred towards myself that I’ve become one of them just this morning.

I don’t have an answer yet, but the ideas fill my head. The most important thing at the moment is to find the remainder of that journal, then maybe locate the locations circled on the map.

I put everything back into the bag and open my drawer to put some of my clothes inside. Blow my candle out and leave the room through my window.

It hasn’t been long since I left the house, and I can still see it from where I’m standing. I look at the dark sky, and for a moment the clouds clear the sky, and I can see the stars again.

“Who put the glowing beads in the sky?” I remember Remi’s words as I looked at them.

I wonder the same thing, but my brain is full of Remi now.

What would happen if I leave her?

Would they transform her into a monster like Mum is?

What about when she grows up?

Would they sell her to the elders as a breeding machine or put her to a table, similar to the ones from this morning, and have several boys hold her down while her blood washes the dirt beneath the table?

I don’t know the full answer to the questions and worries I have, but I know nothing is waiting for me in the forest, and even though I’ve become another monster this morning, I cannot leave Remi. Even though she is not my real sister, I cannot let mum poison her more than she’s already done.

While the stars light the whole area and everyone can see me clearly, I don’t wait behind the bushes. Take the bag and go back to the house where I've lived since I’ve known myself. To the house where the woman who is probably the reason for my dad’s death.

Also, to the house of Remi, where her joy is more valuable than my hatred towards that woman.

And maybe one day I can take her with me, to the wild, to the forest and the freedom.

Where she’s not a sacrificial flesh but a joyful girl who deserves to live as all girls should in the world.