Grievance: A Short Story

 Author's note: 

This short story is part of a larger project to my novel, To the Beyond, which is currently in progress. Each story is an exploration of the characters, their upbringings and memorable moments that shaped who they've become by the time they are introduced in the book. These have been very fun to do and help explore the depth of who these people are.

Thank you for reading and being apart of this journey!

In the island of Remriar, community was a vital organ in the system of the continent. The oceans that isolated them were dangerous, home to hundreds of sea beasts. A  prison that captured souls of wandering fishermen and merchants, the souls of naïve children, and the souls of the weak-willed. Death greeted them like a neighbor.

Beneath grey skies along the cliff overlooking violent waves, a crowd stood together. Zelad stood closest to the edge, hypnotized. She imagined herself walking above the waves with the motion of each tide hurdling onto the next. She would call out into the eternal horizon calling for her Ubba, but even then she knew he would not arise from the sea again. A hand rested on her shoulder. Zelad turned to her sister Nuraa looking at her with smarting eyes. Nuraa tugged her gently away from the ledge. 

 Their Umma, standing merely a few feet away from them, was dressed formally; the Nokshra that she wore was plain beige, with purple patterns of sea mammals swimming along the hems. Atop her head was a beaded headpiece, little shells that were strung dangling along the garment, and wrapped along her shoulders was a bold violet scarf.  As Khokim she was to initiate the funeral, but as their Umma her face was stained of tears trailing down her quivering lips, eyes red and swollen. Besides her, two of her eldest pupils, standing on the far left. One held a blindfolded calf. The other carried a Khukais; a large and heavy curved knife. On the right, standing beside the Khokim was the Rem. It was courtesy of tradition for him to participate in mourning duties. Like their Umma, his Zushru were dyed in the same colors. His chest remained exposed with only a scarf draped over his arms. 

The two girls stared at their Umma, waiting for her speech. She could not speak. Unconsciously her body began to sway, side-to-side. Her hands that were clasped together and resting on her stomach fell to her sides. Zelad walked briskly behind the crowd to her Umma and reached for her hand. She’d startled her Umma, but then she tightened her hold on her daughter's hand. 

“Let’s do this another day,” Zelad whispered. “You can barely stand right now.” Her Umma shook her head, and with a kiss to Zelad’s palm she whispered, “It must be done now.” 

“Umma-”

“I am not the only one grieving today.” Her Umma spoke sternly. It seemed to bring her out of her misery, just for a moment. Zelad slowly let go of her Umma’s hand, and parted ways, returning to Nuraa where she stood this whole time, staring at Zelad apprehensively. It seemed she shed a few tears whilst her sister was gone. Zelad looked back out to the ocean. Neither exchanged any words as the Khokim began her speech. 

“In Dhuran’s mercy, may the souls of those lost today return to our island. May their will be strong against Lakar and her army in the below, who feast on our existence.”

Zelad’s throat began to burn. Struggling to swallow the ball of grief that had stricken her throat, her body shook. Tears welled in her eyes while her cheeks ran hot. Nuraa stepped forward. 

  “May they be guided by Rumaa that watches from the stars. May they be protected by Raiman who sacrifices sanity for sanctity.”

Nuraa slowly reached for her sister's hand. Clasping it tightly, the two stood beside each other. Zelad didn’t dare to look at her sister when the tears ran down her cheeks, and did not stop. She was certain Nuraa was in a similar sorrowful state. 

 “ May Mairam welcome their souls.” The Khokim turned to her pupils and gave a nudging nod. They walked in sync to the edge of the cliffs, gently laying the calf onto the grass one more time. Zelad had seen these rituals many times before. She knew the calf would not run because it was sedated with herbs, a mercy for what they must do. The pupil who held the blade, stroked the side of the calf’s neck. With one, brief stroke the blade would be stained of blood, the calf would twitch and roll a final time. And then it lies still. It does not stop flowing, the blood leaks to the edge, drippling down the rocks until just the first few droplets enter the sea. Then the calf was flung out to sea, where the trail of its blood will guide the lost men home. Zelad envisioned a long red ribbon trailing along the surface of the water. Sometimes a few corpses had washed onto shore. It wasn’t guaranteed, but those who had returned were a less unpleasant sight than those found trapped between the rocks, swelling, molting. 

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Zelad muttered. “Do you think his body would come back?” She looked at Nuraa’s tired face. She couldn’t coax Zelad and her fantasies. She believed that their Ubba was gone for good. So instead she let go of Zelad’s hand and followed along the guests who crowded the Khokim to receive prayers. 

Zelad didn’t follow her sister. It’d been enough for one day. Patchy-faced with drying tears, she walked down the slope of the hill towards the beaches. During the funerals it was instructed by the Rems of the island to avoid going to the beaches. Zelad was well aware of it; she kept herself hidden behind a wall of greenery as she gazed at the Shadaf. These crustaceans that crawled on the sand stood taller than an adolescent child. Its purple and blue speckled pattern was a sight to behold beneath sunlight, but in gray skies they were as dull as any rock found by the tidepools.

Three were wandering on shore. Zelad calculated her chances in hunting them. One Shadaf could be hung and dried for stews or jerky. She turned away from the beach to find her Thua. 

“Thua.” Zelad stood at the doorframe, her shadow overlooking her Thua. Before him was an altar, a personal design to incorporate his love for his brother’s passing.  He didn’t look up at his niece. He sat there, back hunched and a cup that he swirled in his hands. “Thua Khabaa,” Zelad repeated as she knelt to sit beside him. A sour pungent smell came from his cup, and beside him was a jug, tilted to lean against his thigh. He was drunk, she realized. “Give me.” she motioned to the cup. She thought he’d resist at first, but he passed it to her without a word. 

Zelad did not drink from the cup. Instead she looked at his altar, seeing her father’s old fishing blade, its handle withered from years of its use. Her father’s initials were etched into the blade itself, infested now with rust. Besides it, aged hair trinkets resting on a leaf bed, and candles that barely flickered. “You did all this..and you didn’t bother to show up for the funeral?” 

“The Gods will do nothing for us,” his voice was hoarse and slurred. “We’ll slaughter the hundreds of cattle we have and throw ‘em off to sea just to put more lives at risk by dangering our shores.” Zelad took a long gulp from the cup. She coughed loudly and cringed. “Oh Gods,” she sputtered. Setting the cup aside she scooched closer to her Thua. 

“The Shadaf have already reached the shores,” Zelad stated. 

“So they have already.” 

“Maybe..you let me use your spear. I can bring some home to carve and cook.” Khabaa turned to look at her discouragingly. The sight made her doubtful for a moment, worried that she’d overstepped. “Our grief has only just started,” he replied. 

“Yes but–the swarm will grow if we want any longer-” 

“Today, Nina,” He interrupted, picking up his jug. “We grieve. We remember the value of life, and who mourns it when we leave it behind. Drink more.” Zelad passed the cup to him, watching as aimed poorly at the cup. She took it from him, and filled the cup to the brim. Zelad held her regurgitation whilst she chugged the whole cup. “Good,” Khabaa said, taking the cup from her and setting it on the side. “Now you can’t go and kill yourself fighting the shadaf.” He let her lean against his shoulder, hardly letting out a mutter of complaint. A smile tickled his lips. 

“Is your Umma doing alright? Nuraa?” 

Zelad sighed deeply. “She’s the Khokim.” Her voice was sarcastic. “She’s always alright. And Nuraa…” 

“Did she not want to visit with you?”

“No, no. I left alone.” 

“Ahh,” he trailed off. She knew what he’d say next. “You left your Umma…”

“Thua,” Zelad whined. 

“--And your sister, to distract your mind with the Shadaf..” Zelad sat upright, huffing. This wasn't what she came here for. Khubaa stared at her for a long time, silent. She was hot-headed, much like her Umma. 

“Did you know your Ubba was a dancer?” He asked. Zelad met his gaze. Khubaa continued, “He wasn't meant for the seas. Your Ubba preferred the stable ground below him. When we'd have our Baliraa, he'd dress himself with these beads–” and he picked them up from the altar, dancing through his fingers. “--and the fires would be lit, so when he threw his head back, they'd catch the light and Gods; he would glow.” His eyes glistened beneath the dim lights of the candle. If she looked closer she would’ve  seen that they were tears sitting on the edge of his eyes. 

“I’ve never seen him dance,” Zelad replied skeptically. Khubaa sniffled and shook his head. “He stopped after meeting your Umma,” he explained. “When she carried Nuraa. He could have had any other job but your Ubba, he didn’t like sitting for too long. He didn’t like to learn. And all of our family had fished for generations.”

“Aren’t you a fisherman?”

“No,” Khabaa chortled. “No, I was a tradesman. Transporting supplies from here to sell in other lands.” Zelad faced the altar once more. As she ran her fingers across the initials of the fishing knife. She picked up one of her Ubba’s head garments, hanging them over the candlelight. The reflection glowed in multiple directions, projecting on the walls of her Thua’s hut in glorious arrays of teal and green. 

“What made you better than him to have lived?” Khubaa was taken aback by the question. He didn’t know if it was meant to be answered. All of the sudden Zelad stood up and turned to the door. “Where are you going?” Khubaa asked, scrambling onto his feet. She tottered, pausing to regain balance. 

“What the fuck is this drink,” she groaned. Her vision changed so suddenly, now distorted and blurry, triggered by her sudden movements. Khubaa struggled to catch up with her; he was far more intoxicated than his niece, with the muscles in his legs numb. Still, he managed to clutch her arm and direct her to his extra bed, furbished a few feet away from his own. “It was…my special concoction,” he slurred. “Serlo venom with..fresh juice. It lessens the uh, the bitterness of the venom. Very good stuff, they couldn’t sell this, everyone would pass out on the streets.” Zelad did not reply. Her head spinned unpleasantly and her throat burned from her indulgence. She thought she was glaring at him when he descended into his own bed, but in reality her eyes were barely open and Khubaa was smiling warmly at Zelad. She reminded him of her brother. But before he could lay his head to rest his stomach gurgled. Khubaa’s eyes widened, jumbling upwards to run outside and vomit. 

Zelad woke late. The evening was at its ripest, a moonless dark night. She woke Khubaa before she left, but he’d insisted on escorting her as his casa was rooted in the deepest ends of the forest. Her Thua walked ahead of her with a torch that lit the entire way. She’d glance back a few times towards the pitch black, her skin crawling when she couldn’t even make out the shape of the trees. Neither exchanged many words during their stroll. Zelad could feel her stomach flutter at the thought of being home, the feeling intensifying when they made it out the neck of the woods into the sleeping village. She’d never seen it so quiet; vendor tables emptied of their produce leaving them bare, the fires that were once lit had now dulled to a sparkling ash, the chatter and laughter now thinned to complete silence with a subtle snoring coming from one of the village casas. The serenity was inviting. Khubaa began to walk slowly, matching his niece’s pace. He didn’t wish to rush her, he felt no urgency to bring her home. 

“Look up,” he encouraged. “The stars.” Zelad lifted her head and beamed. It appeared as if the moon had run away and left dust that spread across the skies glowing in burning light. Not powerful enough to light the steps ahead of them on their own, but they were fantastical. She felt like a child, filled with wonder in a world bigger than herself. 

“It’s Rumaa’s beauty,” she gasped. Zelad turned to look at Khubaa, but he was already far ahead of her, trudging slowly up the slope of the hill. She ran to catch up to him, keeping her head up towards the skies until they reached the temple. Before he opened the door, he stared at Zelad. “Are you ready?” he inquired. Zelad hesitated and sighed. “I want to stay out more,” she answered. 

“Well–” Khubaa tugged the door open. “--It will be here tomorrow. Come, I’ll walk you in.” Her shoulders sagged with relief. He let her enter first before he stepped inside, but Zelad didn’t notice that he too was uneasy. As they approached the living quarters, they saw Nuraa sitting across a lit hearth staring intensely at the fire. Her jaw was clenched, a vein popping from her forehead. Her eyes were tired, glossy. She whipped her head ready to chew Zelad out, already wearing her glare until she realized Khubaa stood behind her. 

“Thua!” Nuraa shot up and pushed past Zelad to hug him. He returned her embrace with his free hand, resting his chin on her head. “Hello my nina. I’m sorry we worried you, Zelad came to wonder if I’d show for the funeral–” He let go of her and patted her back. “--and we got caught up reminiscing.” Nuraa side-eyed Zelad suspiciously, Zelad saw it. But towards Khubaa she smiled softly, warmly. 

“I just worried she went off doing something destructive,” Nuraa replied. “Thank you Thua, let me get you something to drink.” 

“No, no, I must get going.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Zelad scoffed at the sight, turning her heel and storming off to her room. She threw herself onto the matted bed. Maybe Nuraa would be too tired to bother her about disappearance. It was Khubaa's fault after all, he’d not waken her sooner. Footsteps shuffled outside until they became quieter and quieter. Then silence. Zelad felt herself drowsing off until one very upset pair of footsteps returned. She hid her face before Nuraa entered, whipping the curtained entrance behind her. “Don’t bother, I know you’re awake,” she sneered, kneeling next to Zelad. “You left us. I had to take care of everything and what do you do? Fuck off with Thua and let him walk you back like a mule-” 

Zelad interrupted with a bellowing mule sound before lifting her head. Nuraa looked shocked, and when Zelad repeated it  her face twisted with disgust. “What is wrong with you?” Nuraa muttered the question beneath her breath, but it was audible to Zelad. She decided not to upset her sister more. It wasn’t worth the fight, not tonight.

Word Index:

Umma: Mother

Thua: Uncle

Khokim: Shaman, responsible for communal rituals and physical treatment

Shadaf: A large species of sea crustaceans, usually shaped in an "L". Their most noticeable traits are the blue spotted patterns along its shell. Shadaf's size can range from two feet in length to 6 feet in adult years. Females are larger than the males, and responsible for finding food for the young. Males will grow to be 5 feet long and are the primary caretakers of their offspring (males in these species carry the young)

Serlo: A species of serpent that exists in Remriar

Remriar: One of the southern archipelago islands