Mannat’s backyard garden was no longer a barren plot of dirt. Spring had arrived, bringing along colors and noises. A bush, four feet tall and two feet wide, had grown to hide the fence, budding beautiful flowers of different shades. There were white and pinks, reds, and blues orchids all mixed together, calling bees and birds alike to share the mornings.

Under the bush grew flowering plants: roses and lilies, sunflowers and daisies, all in one backyard garden. A layer of short and soft grass colored the ground green. There was a guava tree growing in one shaded corner, and the father-son pair played in its shade.

“Why don’t you try again? There is no shame in failing. Stand up.”

“I can’t, Raesh.”

“You can. And stop calling me by name. Call me Father or Dad.”

“But—“

“I know, I know.” Raesh, Mannat’s father, and a force of a man sighed. He sat on the ground with his legs crossed. A groan was at his lips but he quietly swallowed it. The boy was watching and he didn’t want him to think less of his father. Under the loose beige shirt, his muscles were visible and intimidating. Anyone looking at the two would think the boy was in trouble. Well, they wouldn’t be far off from the truth.

Raesh tiredly pulled at his beard and continued the discussion. “I understand you don’t want to disrespect me by calling me anything other than my name. But I call you Son, don’t I? You think I’m wrong to call you that?”

“Yes.” said the boy definitively. Raesh cocked a brow, stupefied. Anybody would be. But he was reaching his limit.

“You are talking back again. How many times do I have to tell you to—“

“—But Mother does it, too.”

“God damn it, kid! Ouch!” Raesh shouted in pain. He saw a bunch of beard hair pinched between his finger and his right eyes twitched in annoyance. Grumbling incoherent nonsense, he flicked the hair into the air. He was on the verge of giving up. Who knew raising a kid could be so tiring?

Deep breaths -- take deep breaths and calm down. Raesh told himself. He mulled over getting back inside the house when he remembered Mannat’s last words to him and realized something really important.

Raesh’s eyes opened wide. He stared at the boy and spoke with a quivering voice. “You call your mother ‘Mother’ but say it’s disrespectful to call me father?”

The boy started back… and then started crawling away briskly, yet barely managing to create any distance from Raesh.

“Come back here, you little rascal!” Raesh pounced forward with clawed fingers and open arms. He deliberately missed, planted his face in the dirt ground, and let out a grunt.

The boy heard, paused, and looked back over his shoulder. “Are you alright, Raesh?” He courteously asked.

“Yes.” The man snorted, stifling a laugh.

The boy nodded and crawled away toward the house.

“What the hell am I doing…?” Raesh mumbled under his breath, rolling onto his back. The grass pricked his skin through the shirt, but he ignored the itch and quietly lay on the ground watching the blue sky above. It looked like a floating ocean, calm and endless, yet out of his reach. Not that he —or anyone from his village for that matter— had ever seen the ocean, but it was one thing that reminded him how lucky he was to be alive. There was a time when he had considered going to sleep and waking up an achievement, and now six years later he was a father.

Yes, the boy was abnormal. He had started speaking —not making noises, but speaking proper sentences— at a frighteningly young age, yet was unable to stand even though he was already three years old, was outspoken, infuriating, and a goddamn rascal, but even then he had his quirks.

Raesh stretched his head back and watched as the boy crawled all the way back to the house and got stumped by the front door. He couldn’t get in —Of course. The boy was too wiry; he had too much brain and too little brawns, but Raesh was determined to pass his knowledge of metal to that devil, even though he might never be able to make a proper knife. It wasn’t just the oath that he had made to the witch… he sat up and raised his head toward the village proper. He stared at the sprawling forest beyond the village boundary, waiting for it to react to his attention for some reason. The forest didn’t come alive, but something striking did happen —just not where he was looking. Behind him, the door creaked open. However, by the time he looked, it had lapped back into its place, engulfing the child.

Maybe he had a chance yet to make a proper blacksmith out of the boy? It might take more time than normal, but… and Raesh started planning what Mannat would come to call his father’s revenge.

Inside the house, the boy had stopped a few steps away from the door. The mesh panel on the upper half of the door let warm, orange light inside the house, driving the darkness away from the narrow corridor. The door to his mother’s —and by right, his— room was there to his left; he wasn’t planning to go inside, though.

He could hear his mother’s voice coming from the lobby at the end of the corridor. She was talking to someone, someone who had a booming laugh. Only one person fits the criteria, and he liked the woman. Mannat wanted to go to his mother’s side, but there was something he had to do first. Noor liked the cleanliness and therefore, Mannat also liked cleanliness.

Pulling the rag hanging low on the garden door, he carefully and slowly cleaned the bits of dirt stuck between the fingers of his hands and feet. He ended by rubbing his knees and legs too. He let the rag go once he was done, and watched a string pull it to the door’s back, where it rested at a height he could easily reach. It was something Raesh had fashioned out of spare bits and bobs against his mother's nagging. She had warned him to act his age… yea, right. As if he could act.

Mannat found his mother in the lobby at the end of the corridor, talking with one of their neighbors: a large woman in a comfortable white gown, her home clothes. His mother was sitting at her chair on the dinner table, while the woman sat on a stool that was wide enough for her to sit comfortably. Needless to say, it belonged to her.

An older boy with a rough head of black hair stood by her side. He was shaping up to become like her. Mannat didn’t know his name, but had heard Raesh calling him little butcher once —his father had a habit of complicating things.

There was another child with her, sitting on her lap and curiously looking around.

“Mom, mom, the little freak is here!” The older of the two boys announced. Mannat didn’t like him for this exact reason. Yesterday, this boy and his group had passed by their house and thrown dirt at him. That’s why he enjoyed it very much when Gande —little butcher’s mother— slapped the back of his head, and he screamed out loud in pain.

“You don’t learn, huh?” The large woman asked the boy. “You better start behaving fast, or there will be no more meat for you. You hear me, boy?” Little butcher had thrown his head down in shame, but he was gritting his teeth and quietly mumbling away in a rather hateful manner, which Mannat found very curious.

“What does bitch mean?” Mannat spoke in his tiny, shrill voice, and then remembering the promise to his mother he hurriedly covered his mouth with his tiny hands. He was too late though; the beans were spilled. The large woman was looking incredulously at him, while his mother made a face she makes when his father farts on the dinner table. He had gone and done something very wrong.

The little butcher was also pointing a finger at him in joy and jumping up and down in glee. “Look, mother! Look,” The older boy screamed. “Didn’t I tell you the boy can speak? He’s such a freak. See? I was telling the truth, yet you—” His excitement was cut short, however, as he was slapped again on the back. It didn’t take long for his shouts to turn into screams and he ran away glaring at Mannat.

Perhaps, Gande would have chased the little butcher with a stick if it wasn’t for the baby boy on her lap. The boy had started giggling and clapping his hands. She sighed instead and changed her attention to Noor.

“So,” She said sounding incriminating. “When were you going to tell me about that?” She didn’t point a finger at Mannat, but he knew she was talking about him.

A little while later Mannat was sitting on his mother’s lap, and they both were looking at Raesh trying to prod the front door latch into shape. Gande had been more than flustered it seemed while leaving, as she had closed the door a little too roughly on her way out.

“It’s broken.” Rash finally announced and looked at the mother-son pair sitting at the dinner table. He was hoping for some kind of response; well, too bad. Noor was lost in thoughts and the boy behaved as expected.

“Dear?” He called again, standing at the open door and blocking the light, which caused the house to dip into darkness. Noor sat unfazed, unaware of the shadows that had grown to cover her face. It was the screeching of the wooden floor that finally got her attention. When she looked, Raesh had already sat down beside her on the chair he had pulled from under the table. He held a hand out for her to hold, which she did ablest with some hesitation.

He looked straight at her, like a shepherd looking at a scared sheep. “What’s on your mind?” he asked calmly, lowering his voice so it didn’t rumble in his throat.

Noor tried to speak, but a pain arose from the throat instead of her voice. She was parched it seemed. So she filled a cup with water and gulped it down. The cold water brought her relief but didn’t do much to calm her heart.

“So what is it?” Raesh asked again, and something tugged at the front of her tunic; it was Mannat.

She hung her head and, looking into the boy’s bright green eyes, spoke her mind. “Do you think everyone will call him a little freak?”

Raesh answered unhesitatingly. “Don’t worry about it.” He said —a blacksmith through and through.

“How can I not worry about it? I’m his mother.” Noor reacted strongly. She pulled her hand out of Raesh’s grip and placed it upon Mannat’s chest, afraid her husband would take the child from her. That didn’t sit right with the man and he spoke equally as loud, letting his voice rumble as it wanted.

“Then as his father, I say that it doesn’t matter what anyone calls MY son,” Raesh shouted, breathing loudly. He saw the fear in his dear wife’s eyes and felt wounded. “Besides,” He said exhaling a loud breath but failing to calm his running nerves. “He’s three years old already. If anything, they’ll call him a freak for not walking. Not for speaking,”

“—speaking like an adult. There is a world of difference between the two.” Noor corrected him before growing somber.

The silence grew between the two as if the storm had passed. Raesh sat back in the chair with his back straight, while Noor caressed Mannat’s cheeks. This continued for a while before suddenly, the boy held Noor’s hand. When she looked the boy was staring at her with his head raised.

“Did I do something wrong, Mother?” Mannat asked, causing Raesh to let out a sigh and sit further back in the chair.

He decided to stay out of this one, and it was the right decision. He knew how to put a red hot piece of metal into submission and shape it to his desire. He also knew how to make the piece sharp enough to cut anything or hard enough to defend, but calming a nervous or grieving heart was not his skill.

“Never, child,” Noor hugged the boy. “You could never do anything wrong. It’s everyone else who’s wrong because they are not as smart as you. Never let anyone think otherwise. You understand?”

“Yes, Mother.”

The rest of the day went uneventfully for the three. Raesh fixed the latch and went to work. Noor washed every piece of dirty linen she could find; while Mannat with nothing to do kept mulling over the conversation and tired himself to sleep.

Night had darkened the sky black when Mannat finally came awoke. It was consequentially dark in the room. The lantern oil must have burned out. The boy thought rubbing his eyes. He was lying on his parent’s bed. They had stopped putting him in the crib after he turned two years old.

Pushing down the blanket with his hands, he sat up and looked around. His parents weren’t in the room. It was either still too early for them to go to sleep, or they were out talking, continuing the conversation from the evening. Maybe they are playing naked again? He thought, but saw light in the corridor through the open door and decided it was probably the former. A look at the starry night sky through the closed window told him that he was right since it was not yet midnight.

Mannat tried going back to sleep but found himself wide awake. He was also starting to feel hungry and figured he’d rather get something to eat then, instead of waking his parents in the middle of the night.

Descending down the steps attached to the bed, he crawled out of the room. He could hear them from the corner and see the dull orange light glowing in the lobby. His mother must have just cooked porridge because its thick odor was still fresh in the air. A growl from his stomach made him hurry. However, he had just gotten out of the room and entered the corridor when he felt something behind him. He felt akin to standing in a clearing and facing the blowing wind. The only difference was that the wind flowed at the same pace without stopping or changing directions. It took him by surprise, and the result was a shiver that shook him from head to toe.

Worried about the sensation, he sat on the floor and looked back. However, the garden door was closed and the space was empty. Yet, the moment he turned the feeling grew stronger. There had to be something there.

He could sense the pull with his whole body, and it was not his first time either. He seemed to remember waking to Raesh’s snoring one night. He had felt it then, too. Alas, he had been too young then and had woken his mother out of worry. Thanks to that, Raesh had to spend the night in the other room and he had forgotten all about it.

The pull was coming from the garden, he was sure of it. And he was curious. The only problem was the closed-door between him and the garden. He crawled near the door, hoping his father hadn’t latched it shut, and found himself in luck. The door was unlocked. He simply pushed and the door opened with some bare resistance. It moaned at the rusted hinges, but not loud enough to get his parents attention. He didn’t want them to find out about either his absence or the reason behind it. They worried too much sometimes.

His heart raced though. He was excited. When was the last time he had an adventure of his own? Never, was the answer. He could barely get around inside the house where all the furniture had been modified for his use. The outside world was still out of his grasp. Following his senses, he climbed down the stair steps one by one and kept going until he was under the guava tree. It hadn’t fruited yet, but so what if it had? Not like he could chew those hard green balls with his milk teeth. Though there was also joy in drinking the juice. When properly sieved for seeds and pulp, it was up to his satisfaction.

Mannat shook his head —He was not there for the fruit. The sensation, yes; it was stronger on his senses now that he was so close to it, but he still couldn’t see the source of it. The night was only one of the reasons. Then wind ruffled the bush and something shimmered between the leaves, glimmered, and blinked like a star.

Mannat crawled closer to the bush to catch it, but found it too high and out of his reach. He tried standing up and failed. His father had been trying for months to get him up on his feet and hadn’t managed; he didn’t believe he had it in him. Still, he was really interested in the star. He almost felt like it was calling to him.

Suddenly, there was a sound and he knew his parents were on to his absence. Mannat looked over his shoulder and saw a dull orange light entering the empty bedroom.

His heart started pounding.

The garden door slammed open behind him a few moments later, spilling an unwavering bright light into the garden. Raesh came rushing out of the house holding the lantern high. He jumped over the steps. The moon was right overhead in the clear sky, but Mannat was standing in the shadow of the tree, making it so that only his silhouette was visible in the natural light. The lantern light helped with that, though barely.

However, what Raesh saw made him stop a few feet from the boy. He even caught Noor’s wrist to hold her back when she tried passing him.

“What are you doing?” She ruefully barked at her husband and glared at him, only to meet with his shocked-wide open eyes. They sent a shiver down her spine, converting her anger into nervousness.

She didn’t dare turn at first, then Raesh lifted the lantern higher so its glow could evenly distribute in the garden. “Look,” he said in a voice trembling with excitement. Noor didn’t have to guess the reason. She turned around and saw it for her own. The boy was standing on his two feet.

The two parents were so engulfed in happiness that they didn’t notice Mannat’s solemn expression. He was sadly looking over the crumpled star —a pink, five-petal flower— on the palm of his hand, wondering why it had stopped shining.