Kai Webb
Lou’s eyes closed for the last time this night. His family gathers around his straw bed to cry
together. To mourn. All but his father who has six other children to care for. The doctor wasn’t
cheap, but virtually as useless as the bedding they lay on. Thirty leeches and glass cups
couldn’t stop it from happening. His father sees that now. Before he leaves, his eyes lower at
the sight and the wails. A snotty nosed Glenn, age three, looks back at his father. The quiver of
his chin was enough to propel his father through the door.
“Look how they avoid suffering, Lou,” a voice booms. Grand. Mighty. Though small and same to
them all. It’s mouth didn’t move, but the words didn’t stop coming. “For time and through time’s
end, we have tried and could never stop you from running.” Its body breathes and flows. In one
moment, it is whole and in the next it is swallowed whole by something much more whole.
Something much more grand and mighty.
Same.
Lou, mesmerized and entransed by the figure, held his place and his tongue.
“What do we call you, child? Or are you still Lou? Attached to a name? Attached?” An arm
forms from the entity, pulsating veins of radiant colors, then there is a hand. The palm platforms
Lou, or what was left of Lou. There is density without substance in the entity. Its face contorts
much like one’s reflection in disturbed water. Its face. It has a face if you could call it that. A
face. The hand raises Lou to its height though distance is incomprehensible here. “You may
speak,” the voice says.
What was Lou to say? No thoughts shrouded his mind. He wasn’t even sure if he had a mind.
Or if he was a mind. As he stared at the figure longer, he noticed it multiplied internally. They
echo and dance within the figure. They. More of them. More of the figure. The figure seems to
have depth and be flat. It is alive and has life within it. All of this new to Lou.
No longer fixated on the figure, Lou looks around his surroundings. More. Them. They are
everywhere. Circling. Pulsating and morphing in and out of one another. Even through gaps
they form another. Every arm made the hand that Lou rests in. The palm Lou rests on but can
not feel. Each face looks back at him. They no longer demand he speak to them. They ask him
to look at himself. He looks down and sees light. Light without bounds and light without a sun.
The light shifts into the shape of a body. A child’s body. The light forms arms and legs. It forms
thoughts and feelings. It forms a voice and it forms action.
“You are what you think you are,” they say. “You will always be what you want to be when you
want to be it. You are the source.” Communication is strange. The words don’t seem to have a
place where they start or end. They just happen. Things just happen here.
“It is clear you are still Lou.”
* * * * *
Father’s face dirtied with coal. He wipes the sweat from his brow best he can with the old rag.
Lou watches his father and the others break their backs. This would have been him in five
years. Victore, his elder brother, started when he was eleven as did their father and his father
before him. Father believes there’s no way out. One way or another Lou made it out. The air
turns rancid though Lou cannot breathe. He takes a step forward the mine to his father.
Mid-step Lou recalls the stories of tragedies in the mine. His small foot slips. Another miner
looks behind him in Lou’s direction. The miner’s eyes sag though he looks around desperately.
Lou continues to his father. “Pa,” he calls out. Father rests now against the wall. So does Lou.
As Lou fixes himself to lean next to his father, his hand and the water dripping down the wall
create a noise.
“Tommyknocker! Out,” they heard it, too. Father quickly collects his tool and lamp and leaves
the mine as soon as he can. Lou left there. “Pa,” he calls out.
* * * * *
Seffle and Beau frequent the shops. They’re old enough to steal quite well. They have had
some practice. Once Beau managed a loaf of bread of which Seffle took credit for. Beau didn’t
mind. Mother often worries for them since Beau is willing to take the falls for the rest. She
worries he may be imprisoned. They sit on a cobbled road in front of a meat shop. It’s been
weeks since the family has had protein. Meat and beans cost more than Father could spare.
The leeches and glass cups.
Lou sits next to his brother and sister. He watches them take turns wearing a single pair of
shoes. Ragged and torn. Seffle’s feet haven't yet grown into the pair, though Beau’s feet fit them
snug and just right. Another three months and they wouldn’t anymore. Beggars. The chill of the
day was worsened by the breeze. Neither of which Lou could experience anymore. “I will never
be cold again,” the thought delights him. He laments that his family will still feel cold.
A woman with a fur necked coat exits the shop. She doesn’t notice the kids. Beau nudges his
sister and nods. She gives him the second shoe and scurries off to another shop. Lou has never
seen them in action. He gets closer. A stern look holds Beau. He looks much like their father to
Lou, but more alive.
Beau takes a breath. He crouches, looks to Lou who is where Seffle sat, and takes off towards
the woman. From behind he snatches the meat from under her arm and uses an alley for
escape. Lou cheers his brother on. The screams from the woman attract attention to ten year
old, Beau. “Let the peasant have it! I don’t want it now,” the woman sneers.
* * * * *
While Mother is away housekeeping during the week, twelve year old Emilia watches over
Glenn and Eugene. Glenn was Lou’s favorite sibling. He often took interest in Lou’s
appearance. Lou was the only child to inherit green eyes and black hair. The rest of the children
were brunettes with brown eyes. Glenn and Lou tended to draw together and play games.
“Why not go play outside today,” Emilia begs them. “Maybe you will find a frog by the stream.”
The children groan. Emilia, missing Lou herself, wants to be alone. “Bundle up, Glenn. Eugene,
wear this.” She passes him Lou’s hat. Lou was thought to be the last child expected to be born
into the family. Their grandmothers knit a hat, scarf, and mittens set for Lou. Oversized. “He will
grow into it,” they told the couple. “He will need it more then.” One year later arrived Eugene.
Two more after that came little Glenn. The two set out to play with Lou close behind.
The stream is not babbling on this day. It is still. Its soul aches, too. Large stones in the stream
made crossing easy. As the boys arrive, Glenn begins to cry. He flops down on the frosted
grass and hiccups his sorrow. The sight unbearable to Lou. Lou kneeled at his brother’s side
and touched a tear on his cherry red cheek to which eases little Glenn. “Watch me cross,”
Eugene calls out.
Hop. Land. Eugene looks back to his younger brother. Once more. Hop.
The wet stone doesn’t catch him. Smack! Lou stands and shouts, “Gene!” Glenn rushes closer
to the stream. Its current picking speed. Blood emerges from Eugene’s head in the stream.
Glenn reaching out to hit brother’s hand yells, “I’m helping you! Here I am!” Eugene drifts closer
to the stream’s edge. Glenn reaches out further, catching part of his coat, pulling as hard as he
can. Too heavy. The current now rushing, the force sends Glenn into the water, under the
water. Underneath Eugene.
There is nothing Lou can do. He screams and even attempts to save them himself. He watches
the water take them.
* * * * *
“Are you still attached?” Lou sits back in the palm once more. Lou looks down at himself to see
he is himself as he remembers. “Those things would have happened with or without you there to
witness. Whatever happens is the other thing that could have ever happened. We love you
here. This is your true home. But we are sending you off again, Lou. You are not ready.”
The voice continues, “Make your way home when you see that you are all light and there is
nothing to miss. Wherever you love there will be pain. Do not be afraid of hurting. A long life will
treat you well.”
* * * * *
On April 10th the following year, Mother and Father had another child. Probably to fill the voids
caused by lost children. The baby, a boy. Hair, tufts of black. Eyes, green.
together. To mourn. All but his father who has six other children to care for. The doctor wasn’t
cheap, but virtually as useless as the bedding they lay on. Thirty leeches and glass cups
couldn’t stop it from happening. His father sees that now. Before he leaves, his eyes lower at
the sight and the wails. A snotty nosed Glenn, age three, looks back at his father. The quiver of
his chin was enough to propel his father through the door.
“Look how they avoid suffering, Lou,” a voice booms. Grand. Mighty. Though small and same to
them all. It’s mouth didn’t move, but the words didn’t stop coming. “For time and through time’s
end, we have tried and could never stop you from running.” Its body breathes and flows. In one
moment, it is whole and in the next it is swallowed whole by something much more whole.
Something much more grand and mighty.
Same.
Lou, mesmerized and entransed by the figure, held his place and his tongue.
“What do we call you, child? Or are you still Lou? Attached to a name? Attached?” An arm
forms from the entity, pulsating veins of radiant colors, then there is a hand. The palm platforms
Lou, or what was left of Lou. There is density without substance in the entity. Its face contorts
much like one’s reflection in disturbed water. Its face. It has a face if you could call it that. A
face. The hand raises Lou to its height though distance is incomprehensible here. “You may
speak,” the voice says.
What was Lou to say? No thoughts shrouded his mind. He wasn’t even sure if he had a mind.
Or if he was a mind. As he stared at the figure longer, he noticed it multiplied internally. They
echo and dance within the figure. They. More of them. More of the figure. The figure seems to
have depth and be flat. It is alive and has life within it. All of this new to Lou.
No longer fixated on the figure, Lou looks around his surroundings. More. Them. They are
everywhere. Circling. Pulsating and morphing in and out of one another. Even through gaps
they form another. Every arm made the hand that Lou rests in. The palm Lou rests on but can
not feel. Each face looks back at him. They no longer demand he speak to them. They ask him
to look at himself. He looks down and sees light. Light without bounds and light without a sun.
The light shifts into the shape of a body. A child’s body. The light forms arms and legs. It forms
thoughts and feelings. It forms a voice and it forms action.
“You are what you think you are,” they say. “You will always be what you want to be when you
want to be it. You are the source.” Communication is strange. The words don’t seem to have a
place where they start or end. They just happen. Things just happen here.
“It is clear you are still Lou.”
* * * * *
Father’s face dirtied with coal. He wipes the sweat from his brow best he can with the old rag.
Lou watches his father and the others break their backs. This would have been him in five
years. Victore, his elder brother, started when he was eleven as did their father and his father
before him. Father believes there’s no way out. One way or another Lou made it out. The air
turns rancid though Lou cannot breathe. He takes a step forward the mine to his father.
Mid-step Lou recalls the stories of tragedies in the mine. His small foot slips. Another miner
looks behind him in Lou’s direction. The miner’s eyes sag though he looks around desperately.
Lou continues to his father. “Pa,” he calls out. Father rests now against the wall. So does Lou.
As Lou fixes himself to lean next to his father, his hand and the water dripping down the wall
create a noise.
“Tommyknocker! Out,” they heard it, too. Father quickly collects his tool and lamp and leaves
the mine as soon as he can. Lou left there. “Pa,” he calls out.
* * * * *
Seffle and Beau frequent the shops. They’re old enough to steal quite well. They have had
some practice. Once Beau managed a loaf of bread of which Seffle took credit for. Beau didn’t
mind. Mother often worries for them since Beau is willing to take the falls for the rest. She
worries he may be imprisoned. They sit on a cobbled road in front of a meat shop. It’s been
weeks since the family has had protein. Meat and beans cost more than Father could spare.
The leeches and glass cups.
Lou sits next to his brother and sister. He watches them take turns wearing a single pair of
shoes. Ragged and torn. Seffle’s feet haven't yet grown into the pair, though Beau’s feet fit them
snug and just right. Another three months and they wouldn’t anymore. Beggars. The chill of the
day was worsened by the breeze. Neither of which Lou could experience anymore. “I will never
be cold again,” the thought delights him. He laments that his family will still feel cold.
A woman with a fur necked coat exits the shop. She doesn’t notice the kids. Beau nudges his
sister and nods. She gives him the second shoe and scurries off to another shop. Lou has never
seen them in action. He gets closer. A stern look holds Beau. He looks much like their father to
Lou, but more alive.
Beau takes a breath. He crouches, looks to Lou who is where Seffle sat, and takes off towards
the woman. From behind he snatches the meat from under her arm and uses an alley for
escape. Lou cheers his brother on. The screams from the woman attract attention to ten year
old, Beau. “Let the peasant have it! I don’t want it now,” the woman sneers.
* * * * *
While Mother is away housekeeping during the week, twelve year old Emilia watches over
Glenn and Eugene. Glenn was Lou’s favorite sibling. He often took interest in Lou’s
appearance. Lou was the only child to inherit green eyes and black hair. The rest of the children
were brunettes with brown eyes. Glenn and Lou tended to draw together and play games.
“Why not go play outside today,” Emilia begs them. “Maybe you will find a frog by the stream.”
The children groan. Emilia, missing Lou herself, wants to be alone. “Bundle up, Glenn. Eugene,
wear this.” She passes him Lou’s hat. Lou was thought to be the last child expected to be born
into the family. Their grandmothers knit a hat, scarf, and mittens set for Lou. Oversized. “He will
grow into it,” they told the couple. “He will need it more then.” One year later arrived Eugene.
Two more after that came little Glenn. The two set out to play with Lou close behind.
The stream is not babbling on this day. It is still. Its soul aches, too. Large stones in the stream
made crossing easy. As the boys arrive, Glenn begins to cry. He flops down on the frosted
grass and hiccups his sorrow. The sight unbearable to Lou. Lou kneeled at his brother’s side
and touched a tear on his cherry red cheek to which eases little Glenn. “Watch me cross,”
Eugene calls out.
Hop. Land. Eugene looks back to his younger brother. Once more. Hop.
The wet stone doesn’t catch him. Smack! Lou stands and shouts, “Gene!” Glenn rushes closer
to the stream. Its current picking speed. Blood emerges from Eugene’s head in the stream.
Glenn reaching out to hit brother’s hand yells, “I’m helping you! Here I am!” Eugene drifts closer
to the stream’s edge. Glenn reaches out further, catching part of his coat, pulling as hard as he
can. Too heavy. The current now rushing, the force sends Glenn into the water, under the
water. Underneath Eugene.
There is nothing Lou can do. He screams and even attempts to save them himself. He watches
the water take them.
* * * * *
“Are you still attached?” Lou sits back in the palm once more. Lou looks down at himself to see
he is himself as he remembers. “Those things would have happened with or without you there to
witness. Whatever happens is the other thing that could have ever happened. We love you
here. This is your true home. But we are sending you off again, Lou. You are not ready.”
The voice continues, “Make your way home when you see that you are all light and there is
nothing to miss. Wherever you love there will be pain. Do not be afraid of hurting. A long life will
treat you well.”
* * * * *
On April 10th the following year, Mother and Father had another child. Probably to fill the voids
caused by lost children. The baby, a boy. Hair, tufts of black. Eyes, green.
