10/5/1387
I now understand that not all stories comfort us; some are there to keep us alive.
I gained sentience at three in the morning as my foggy dreamworld shattered beneath a veil of constant murmurs. Indistinct, the murmurs slowly died down as I regained full control of my parading thoughts. I felt like one who had just awoken from a long dream yet couldn't quite remember what it was about.
Is this what so close but so far away means?
What of the murmurs though? Am I hallucinating again?
Used to similar scenarios, I ignored it as I tried to remember where I was and what I had been doing the previous day. However, my thoughts were sluggish, and thinking became more difficult the more I dug into my memories.
Cold. My hands drifted across my face, trying to rub off my drowsiness.
I'm blank.
I can't remember anything.
Random thoughts started popping up in my mind. Memories from a long time ago. I was running around the orphanage; I wasn't happy. Then again, when was I ever? Even so, the memory stirred something inside me.
Why was I in the orphanage anyway? What happened to my family? Who am I?... I'm Vexilion Rose, right?
I took in a shaky breath, completely ignoring those dangerous thoughts. Gaudy, illusory light screened my vision as my eyes fully opened.
Morning already?
However, the grey moon still hung in the dark velvet curtain. It was just a fire. My voice felt hoarse and heavy as I spoke out in surprise.
"Fire!"
The old walker's song still lingered at the tip of my tongue. Everyone knows that fire is not lit in the night.
A young man with short black hair turned to look at me. He was seated on a log by the fire as the yellow light reflected in his sorrowful gaze. Smiling, he put his index finger on his lips. His calm, cracking voice lingered longer than it should have.
"Shush now, you wouldn't want to wake up the rest, would you?"
His gesture caught me by surprise as another memory popped into my mind. This time, the murmurs from before returned louder, almost distinguishable. It sounded like someone was trying to talk to me.
A man, whose face I could not see, towered before me, his cold hands holding tightly onto mine. I was small, and for some reason, I couldn't draw my eyes away from him. He smiled, passing me a jester's hat. I took it hesitantly, fumbling with it as his deep, unsettling voice echoed in my mind.
"Do you know why they created the circus, son?"
With one hand, I wore the oversized hat—the bells jingling slightly as it covered my face. Slowly, my vision returned as the man fixed it for me.
"No, father," I answered shyly, my voice softer than I remembered.
"To distract them from the truth."
I turned, looking at the grand circus entrance not far away. I saw a beautiful girl my age licking her ice cream as she held her father's hand. They laughed, slowly disappearing into the heart of the crowd. Confused, I looked back at the man.
"The truth?"
"Yes, yes—the truth, Naga. The royals... they're not what they seem to be."
"Are they bad?"
"Perhaps."
"Like the walkers?"
The man's grip on my hands tightened. The wind was cold, but his hands felt colder. He bent down to meet my gaze and carefully fiddled with the hat before jingling the bell. He placed his index finger on his lips and smiled.
"Careful now. You wouldn't want them to hear you, would you?"
I let out a shaky breath, trying to process everything I had remembered. Even though my thoughts were still sluggish, only a moment had passed. The young man's voice brought me out of my reverie.
"You're Rose, right? I thought that was supposed to be a girl's name."
A little confused, I darted my gaze around, trying to recall where I was. I was sleeping on a torn leather rag that was slightly wet from dew. The grass was moist, giving off a familiar earthy scent. Around me was a group of merchant tents—five in total. The tree silhouettes loomed above, creaking in the cold wind.
"You're on watch tonight?" I finally spoke, slowly walking toward the fire.
He stared deep into the fire, slowly rubbing a pocket watch in his hands. Uninvited, I sat on the log, my gaze fixed on the flames. He turned to look at me, the same sorrow in his eyes.
"For the past three nights, you've never seen me before?"
"Ha ha, I have a terrible memory."
"Is that so... well, so do I."
He smiled again. He seemed calm—too calm.
"Why did you light the fire? The walkers will find us."
Scoffing, he flicked open the watch, revealing a picture of an old smiling man.
Flick.
Flick.
He opened and closed it rhythmically.
"You look like a grown man. Do you still believe in bedtime stories?"
Embarrassed, I rubbed the back of my head. The notion was childish, yet the memory of the man weighed heavily in my mind.
What if he's wrong?
Ignoring it, I shifted my gaze to his watch. Noticing my attention, he chuckled.
"It's three, by the way. You know, the man in this picture always rubbed the back of his head when I told him the same thing. The walkers are real, he said—'I fought one in my prime.' Ha ha... you know, it's funny. I couldn't see the pain he hid behind that smile. It was three days later, after taking this photo, that he was found hanging in his yard, lifeless."
Flick.
He closed it, then fixed his teary eyes on me. Chuckling, he stretched out his hand for a handshake.
"Forgive me. I'm Jayson, by the way."
"How did you know my name though? We haven't met, have we?"
"You do have a bad memory."
He sat back down, wiping his tears away.
"So, Rose, why do you want to go to the capital?"
"Well, I want to join the academy."
"Oh, so you want to be a parthegon. That's a bit ambitious, isn't it?"
The night suddenly felt warmer for some reason—and not because of the fire. I looked at Jayson, careful to see if he noticed it too, but he remained ignorant. I could hear the murmurs from before resurfacing, slowly getting louder with each passing second, becoming more distinguishable.
Haaaa...
Haaga...
Naaagaa...
Naga...
The words were clear, constant, and unyielding. The same name the man from my memories had called me: Naga. I turned to look at Jayson, my heart thudding in my chest. He smiled as he muttered something—his words faint and distant.
"You know, I have a sister at the orphanage. She's been waiting for me for a year now, and after our father died... I mean, it's been difficult for her. I wanted to give her this watch for her birthday; she likes fixing things."
I gulped, subconsciously grabbing my chest. I felt it—the thing that was sung in those songs. Deep in my heart, I knew.
"They heard me."
"What? Are you okay, Rose? You don't look so good."
"The fire!" I shouted. "Put it out!"
"What?"
My vision blurred slightly before being washed in deep crimson. A familiar iron-tinged scent filled my nose as hot liquid rolled down my cheeks. Jayson's head rolled into the ashes, landing in the fire. His silver pocket watch fell into the red pool. At that moment, another memory emerged.
I was standing alone, holding a bloody jester's hat in my small hands, an ice cream cone not far from my feet.. Around me, the once joyous laughter was replaced by screams as blood drenched my feet. A head of a beautiful girl my age rolled past me. A man suddenly fell to the ground, cradling the head of the little girl. He screamed loud and hard before his head followed hers. I suddenly felt a grasp on my shoulder, it was heavy, dangerous yet familiar. It was the faceless man from before.
He bent down, smiling, his bloody hands reaching for the hat.
"Do you see now, Naga? This is deceit."
Calmly, he placed the hat on my head, chuckling before taking my hands. The screams slowly died down as we walked toward the exit. A sign dangled above the door, written in crooked letters:
WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS.
---
My eyes widened as I watched Jayson's body collapse. The murmurs were now clearer than ever, constantly shouting in my mind.
Run, Naga! Run!
I couldn't even remember how I did it, but my body moved before I could think. My hands scraped against the hard wood, my feet sank into the ashes as I sprinted forward.
I now understand that not all stories comfort us; some are there to keep us alive.