"Tiresome. This word singularly explains how I currently feel.
Picture yourself attempting to explain away the death of someone you held dear. Not only that, but to someone who believed they were alive until moments ago—only to forget all that at the next passing minute.
You left behind so many people, but not enough words to comfort them all.
But here I remain, a symbolic herald carrying the constant reminder of your demise. The person who remembered you least, but knew you the most.
For you remain dead and us people alive stay grieving, who is it I really mourn for?
The questions pile up, but so do my answers. I suppose such a thing is called 'growth'. Though I don't feel any different, I suppose neither does the air when the wind blows through.
Signed: Desmond"
Licking my finger, I tear out the page with all its contents, before it makes me hope to cry.
Missus Maple god bless her soul was blessed with the curse of ignorance. Yet another rare ailment of the mind, commonly misunderstood around these parts.
No matter how hard I tried to explain it seemed I only made everyone more upset; in such instances I decided it would be best for us to move on.
The paper curls in my palm as I title my next entry.
'Minerals listing - Zerbus'
Walking some metres behind my boy, the wind blows hot and the sky slowly turns towards the afternoon dark.
Sounds of jovial laughter and shared camaraderie carry along this field of chipped wood.
Tim, listening in too, approaches the crowd with a genuine smile spreading across his face.
This moment is short lived, broken up by the crunching of our boots before the silence.
Then, they turn at me. All sixty of them. Glaring from atop their splintering logs with straw hats and loose clothing, all congregating around a central figure.
Looking into the fire with red and glowing eyes, a wrinkled forehead eases as it shines in firelight.
This man, digging into a kindling flame with his metal prod, passes it over to a skinny boy who sits adjacent to him, then he shifts in his seat.
"Timothy, I heard you tried to defend Umer and Evon. Thank you for that, it must've been painful." His voice is softly spoken but clear.
Looking back sheepishly, Tim buttons up his top collar and smiles back slightly.
"It was nothing sir, I just did what I thought right."
What happened? What are they on about?
"You've grown into such a fine young man, Jimson would be proud. I remember, twas not so long ago that you were just a shy boy stuck inside yer shell. Perhaps, your bravery could be a shining example for the rest of us." He grabs at the boys hand and squeezes it, his metallic ring shining through its rugged lustre.
"You see, not long ago his mother died. I was a different man back then, 'the great, and imposing Zerbus', took the responsibility of raising this child to realise the fool I once was. My many years of acclaim were wasted, only becoming evident to me once I sorted out my blessings and focused on the present she left behind. Tim, I'm giving you this advice as Jimson was my very good friend too and I can see how you've grown in this short time. Let the dead be. They aren't here anymore nor are their memories. You'll only agonise yourself by keeping them alive. Focus on what matters most in the now, because, you could soon lose it all again."
. . .
I guess he's partially right. I keep looking at Jimson for answers I know I'm never going to get; though, I've only known Tim for less than a week I've already been so thoroughly blind. I thought I knew him more, knew him better. Just why wouldn't he hide his secrets just as I have mine.
Is it too much for me to want to be a part of his life knowing that one day he will grow out of this attachment. It's just as you said Zerbus, I need to trust him more and trust myself enough to create an environment that makes him feel safe so no secrets are ever needed between us.
That being said, knowing is different to understanding, and nothing will make me stop worrying. Like just now, who's this slug that had the balls to reprimand Tim and enter my line of sight. That matron won't be missed by the time I'm through with her.
I close my hand, tight.
"So who's this new accomplice of yours Tim?" Zerbus frowns over from across the campfire.
Sticking out my hand, I walk over, carrying over the only smile that inhabits my gaze.
"Names Desmond, don't worry if you get it wrong I'm not going to bust your balls for something minor like that... Or am I?" I frown momentarily before breaking out a small chuckle.
"Hehe. So, first off, I hear congratulations are in order, right?" I glance around the silent bunch slowly nodding. "You guys managed a successful protest and let me tell you, I'm all for it, someone needs to lead the coming change; those bastards don't even respect you farmers and it's telling. Where I come from, people don't do this. Ever. And for good reason."
"Oh, you're not from around ere eh." Zerbus looks around surprised. "Where you from? Is close? How does you get into contact with our boy Timothy?" Zerbus's voice remains tight but soft in his address, it seems he's worried about Tim.
"Don't worry, before his passing Jimson, Jiord and even Timothy himself all had time to get to know me, and all individually decided that between all the parties involved that I would be the best choice as Timothy's new guardian.
I know I can't replace what was lost, but, I hope to be the best mentor to not only guide him, but be present and available for his physical, emotional and psychological needs in an extended capacity."
"So. You mean?"
"I'm his carer now." I stick my hand out even further spreading out my fingers.
"My name's Desmond..." I give my signature half smile.
"We have much to discuss."
Finally meeting my grasp he holds it firm, however, the lesson of Marsley did not fall ill on me.
Sticking out my index, I maintain the intensity of my grip in matching his strength.
Squeezing back, he stares up at me with those suspicious eyes as he meets my gaze for the first time since I've spoken.
"I heard you spoke to those three girls. Everyone has much to say about you in particular. Much of it bad. However, it seems the queen herself has taken a liking to you, such fortune considering the state she's in."
Lifting my brows slowly, I release my grip lowering my shoulders.
"Out with it—my fire needs tending soon." He rolls a stick of tobacco on his leg and brings it to his lip.
"I seek mutually beneficial cooperation with you and your faction to turn the tides of this war."
Snapping his fingers, he releases a small but orange flame, lighting the edge of the pungent herb.
He blows on it. Smoke flies past my ear causing my eyes to sting, blurring my vision wet.
But, he just watches, staring still as he brings down his hand and holds his chin.
"What makes you think you almost matter?"
Trying to rattle me, huh, I know such tricks, I invented them.
"I don't think at all sir. I know.. My knowledge is not obtained, it is gathered, meticulously tested, stressed against the world to see if it will bend. That is my worth. It is mine to understand and yours to observe. Don't confuse this appearance with my value—that only reveals the folly in your eyes, not my abilities.
He looks me up, then down, then up again, smiling with those rows of grey teeth.
"Big talk, big mouth, but small muscles. How about that?"
"Big brain, big eyes, big vision, but most importantly. . . big, bouncing balls. I can show you if you so wish?" I stare back at him, raising my chin and pointing to the top of my skull.
Craning up his neck, he looks at me from the base of his stubby nose.
"No need."
Drawing in the surrounding smoke within his lungs he exhales deeply.
"There's something bout you, something... different. I've seen many gazes kid, but your two eyes are truly unique. No malice, no greed, no hope but also no defeat. Empty, but full all the same. Completely Incomprehensible." He takes a drag of his herb. "If I were to bet on you, tell me, how would you return my investment."
"One day. Give me one day of your time, some materials and all your men. I will show you what a decisive victory looks like. Those are my terms."
Ripping another page from my leather book, I provide him my jotted list.
He leans forward in his seat, squinting as he reads the page.
Playing with his metallic ring, he pulls the cigarette from his mouth to flick away its burning ash.
"You can have your day, but we start at dawn."