Before I knew to question it, I started spiraling downward like an eagle while picking up more and more speed. I caught a glimpse of where I was headed and saw a sprawling city. I saw a stone wall surrounding it in its protective embrace. A giant gate and watchtowers manned by archers and soldiers. Beyond the wall were farms and fields tilled by farmers and men on horseback. The architecture didn't look familiar, but it seemed like a medieval city. The strange thing was the buildings, which were made of stone, but they were reminiscent of longhouses, with thatch roofs. The city looked more like a huge stretch of land contained inside a stone wall.
The closer I got, the more I realized I was headed towards the largest mess of longhouses in the city. I spiraled faster and faster, and before I could blink, I had landed. Before I could think, I slept. I slept for the first time in 2 and a half years.
And I slept like a baby.
…
I awoke to warmth, to feeling myself exist. Some things are hard to appreciate properly until you lose them. Of having skin, blood pumping throughout your body, your heartbeat sounding in your ears, thumping to a beat only you can understand. I only wish I could breathe and feel the wind on my skin. I had already guessed where I was. I was in the womb.
I began to shift as I started to feel pressure all around my being, and I moved with that force. I did nothing to help out the situation. Eventually, I started to feel what I'm guessing was the top of my head exit into the open air. So this is birth? I pondered the strange word as I continued to be moved against my will.
Before I could register anything, all I could feel was pain. Who the hell cares about feeling the wind on their skin? It fucking hurts. It's like being sensitive everywhere, overstimulated, and not being able to process the overload of information being transmitted all at once into every single damn nerve all across my body.
I could barely form a coherent thought as I could feel the rush of my blood throughout my body, I could hear my organs shifting in my body, and I could feel my lungs expand and contract painfully against my ribs. And every time I would try to adjust to these feelings, my heart would explode, sending a shock wave through my brain like a hammer being swung at my head continuously. She was right, I do speak flowery words too much. I'm not a fucking poet. Fuck my skin, fuck my blood, fuck my heart, and fuck oxygen. The pain was so bad I started to count again to try and distract myself, but that did fuck all.
"CǓT, ASǓNDER. TAKA ĦONDÚM ÊSSĨ!" That's what I hear ringing in my ears after my whole sensitive being gets dragged out of whatever poor sow decided to conceive me.
"EINN FRAMI?"
"DUGR VIGR, ÊSSĨ!"
"DRAGOR IJÓSS!"
The hands that had been manhandling me up to this point decided to travel across my sensitive and pain-filled being. Grab on to something in the lower part of my body and-
*SNIP*
"FUCK!" Is what I would've shouted if I weren't a baby with water in its lungs. But what I did do was cry. I cried with my whole being. The things I kept inside as an adult male in Vara washed through me. "WWAAAAHHHHHHH" The years of pain and solitude were finding their release outside of the box I had stuffed it in deep inside my soul. The pain of a newborn is unimaginable; we don't give them enough credit for surviving this pain. I hardly ever gave it much thought, but this is pain above every list there is. That pain had forced me to face all the things I couldn't process, and lay it bare right in front of me. No wonder all of us forget our birth. It's like being reminded, "Hey, you exist now," constantly, so you won't forget to breathe, to hunger, to crave life.
So I cried. I cried from the pain. I cried for myself. I cried for all those years spent counting to myself to stay sane. I cried for my 8 brothers and sisters that I was forced away from.
If before, whoever was in the room was screaming at the top of their lungs, solely to torture me, then now I was getting my revenge. I could feel my soul shake into place as my cry reverberated throughout my body. I could hear my voice bouncing against the walls. I cried for 4 minutes and 36 seconds before I was dried off and wrapped in the world's softest blanket and placed into someone's hands. After this, I quieted down. The pain and my amped senses were still there, just dampened by the effects of this magic blanket. I stared up at the blurry figure of a woman as I slowly closed my eyes and fell into a deep slumber. Priding myself on the revenge I got on these loud-mouthed idiots.
…
I woke up in a cage. A blurry cage. My vision was still out of order, and all I could see were bars containing me. I could barely move, considering how tightly I was wrapped up. I moved my giant head, and all I could see were blurry figures and terrifying shadows ready to devour a defenseless baby at the first chance they got. The shadows moved erratically, like they were swaying in the wind. Like they could barely contain their forms, the darkness looked ready to consume me and spit out my bones. It took everything in me not to cry in fear. My pride forbade it, and my rational side tried to reason with my inexperienced brain.
I didn't want to cry. I wasn't a baby. At least in the sense of the word. But then I shifted and felt my tush get mushy. So I cried in fear that the shadows had decided to start with my ass, and I had lost my butt already and I was gonna be a man without an ass. People would see me go by, and all they would see is back. 'How dare these shadows take my ass from me?'
"WAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH" A couple of seconds later, I was unwrapped and being cleaned. Because I had obviously shit myself. I looked at the blurry figure lovingly and quieted down. I thought to myself, 'What a good servant." I looked down at myself and saw shadows crawling up my skin, and I started crying again. The blurry servant tried to calm me down, but I was still freaking out, a part of me knew that this was insane to be scared of my skin its alright if I was reborn black. But another part of me was worried about the shadows and them crawling up my skin.
The blurry servant began to hum and pull me closer to themselves. I could feel warmth again. I could feel the vibrations of the humming and the sound of a calm heartbeat thumping against ribs. I felt something being placed between my lips and I instinctively began to suck. The humming, the heat, and the warm food all mixed together lulled me to sleep. My last thought before the slumber, 'The greatest servant to ever exist.'
…
Months passed in quick succession. My servant was at my beck and call. If I felt a little peckish, I would cry, and I'd get fed. If I felt cold, I would get pulled closer into the warm embrace of my furnace. Sometimes I would cry just to see if she'd answer, and she always did. My vision started to clear up after months of seeing only figures, and I've started to familiarize myself with the place, but it wasn't too exciting, just a giant bed with fur blankets and a lavish room. Gold was everywhere; it hurt my eyes if I stared too long in one direction. 'Are they renting this room out to film music videos? This amount of gold could seriously threaten a country's economy.'
My greatest shock was when I first saw my servant; she was breathtaking. All the gold in the room lost its shine with her around. She had black hair cascading down her back that she braided with flowers. Her skin was pale except for the parts covered in tattoos and markings that freely moved across her skin. Sometimes I'd get captivated by the stories the tattoos flowed in. It's like my own walking iPad.
I had long realized that the tattoos on my body were like hers. That my fear was unfounded. That I had markings that told their own story. I'm guessing that I was born with the markings, and judging by hers, this was completely normal in this society.
…
My servant has taken to talking to me in just simple phrases that she repeats constantly. I think she's trying to teach me the language.
"Estivat, ama," She'd say. "Ahh-mah," I figured she wasn't too bright, even if she was pretty, but what can you expect from a servant? I practiced nonetheless because I wanted to learn the language. I picked up words here and there and started to practice my crawling. She'd take me out of my cage and allow me to move around in the lavish room.
At first, my arms shook, and I struggled to keep myself up for long. But the more hours I put in, the more comfortable I became with the movements, and soon I was zipping around the room and running circles around her. She would try to chase me, but I was too fast for her. When I felt tired, I would feel bad and allow her to catch me.
"AMA!" I called out to my servant. My first word! This will go down in the history books. I had begun to piece together the language and finally had been able to let out a word. I could see her eyes sparkling with joy. She squealed, lifted me into a hug, and twirled me around in her bosom.
"Estivat, AMA! Igen! Igen!" She looked at me expectantly.
"AMA!" I squealed in pride, indulging her whims.
"My son, I'm so proud of you." The cloud in my mind cleared as I understood her words. Words she had whispered in my ears as I'd fall asleep against her chest. Words dropped like a bomb that came out of nowhere. I had forgotten what a mother was, that I was meant to have one. I couldn't comprehend the word and its meaning.
"Mother?" I called out.
"Yes, my son, I am mother," She whispered as she hugged me tighter, "You will be great one day. You will conquer cities, cross oceans, scale mountains, and slay beasts. Your name will be carved in the walls of history." My eyes misted over as I understood what 'mother' meant. I had a mother, and she was an amazing one.