♫Fleetwood Mac - Storms♫

IX - XII

30 minutes after Jack's bedtime

...

Sniff. Sniff. Sniff...

Damnit. I can't believe it... Sniff!

Of all the boys of Burmecia, I am the only one who got a cold. I can't even sniff or taste food like before, and constantly, my nose keeps getting stuck with this warm muck, that keeps falling, and falling, unless I... SN-NI-IF! Unless I pull it back, or if I blow it over a cloth. It is still early to blow it away from my nose, since it is still flowing as a liquid, so whenever I need to pull it back, I just snifff with the force of a hundred men. I doubt those men ever had gotten a cold, at first place. Runny nose sure sucks. As if I was drowning man, it keeps running me out of air. Well, for what else do I have a mouth? If only the air that comes in and out of my mouth was warm as the one that used to go in and out of my nose, then I would give it a chance, but they are over by now.

To think I dirtied my both hands with mud, alike Dan does with its fingers... sniff... Gappys, huh? He touched that nose with that finger so many times, and still hadn't he got an infection already, but me, who stood on his side... It can't be. I can't believe it. Damn you, Dan. You lucky moron. You, and that finger of yours! A-CH-OOO! sniff... I can't punch Dan, so this pillow tastes my fists. How soft it is, but Dan isn't soft, because he got bones that shall be broken. If I see Dan once again, another tooth shall be taken from that dirty mouth of his, I can say for sure. Wait, am I sure of how I got this... SNIIFF!... cold? Sob... Why? Why am I crying? Why am I crying, for Dan? Is it because he is... innocent? So, am I guilty? Wait... this ain't a tear. Snif-f-f... That's only muck, that felt like tears, from my nose, the same place I was thinking to punch Dan tomorrow.

Forget it, Jack. I was so careless, then and now. Oh, how could I think of hurting Dan with such stupid matter. Idiot. Idiot! Id-Hey! Calm down... Sob. What will you got by hurting yourself instead of Dan, who isn't even there? Choo!... sniff. At least, it does seems that Fratley is okay. Sniff!... Thought he stood with us all this time, he seemed to have gotten nothing bad of ours, just good reception. Then, Why don't you try to do the same, Jack? Sniff... Okay? Okay. Good, let's see... Lennie sure made a delicious soup with the vegetables she took from the kailyard. Well, I had to take them, because she couldn't on her own, as much as I couldn't make that soup by myself, but, at least, taste it.

I recall I raised that same basket to her own hands, as if that was the the maximum I could reach, approach near that face, that smile, though she didn't grabbed that basket, either because it was too heavy for her, which I disagree with, because sure it was heavy for me, but Lennie is taller, alike tha tail. To end up taking a cold only because of the rain is a silly thing, however I still have a hand full of fingers, and suspicions as well. Those didn't, and don't seem to matter, unlike a back who's hurt enough by the weight of that chest. Lennie couldn't even turn her back to hold of that same basket, because of how small I am, and how tall she is, and how painful was that back.

Sniff... not even this cold is enough to compare with that pain. Not even a smile was given to me, or a thanks frankly said. I said frankly, because Lennie knew how to gratefully congratulate me, besides that soup. Unfortunately, I couldn't feel its taste, because of this nose, who got stuck of this yuck muck. Because of this cold, I had been ordered to rest on this same bed, by same Lennie, who somehow knew that I had gotten a cold even before I knew it.

Sniff. That's why she boiled some onions, whom I also took from that garden, without knowing that they would be my treatment, instead of another ingredient belonging to that soup, who I wished to my tongue to have tasted it, seeing how much Lennie had been enduring of that pain, and how much care she brought to me, and that soup, and the way she found to bring me of same comfort, like the texture, or surface, or whatever my tongue forgot to taste, of that soup... Sniii... sniff!

Yet, look at me. I never offered a breakfast, lunch or dinner for Lennie, or ever said to her, right at that face, that she needs to rest for awhile, even after all she had done for my sake, and her own as well. Not even a 'good morning' to be delivered whenever she wakes up, because Lennie always woke up, still do wake up, before I do. When morning comes, I just want to keep laying on this same bed, unless I want to pee, on the toilet, or on this bed. Sniff. I used to do it so, but seeing how Lennie is trying hard, I guess I just stopped doing it on bed because it was either too childish, for someone grown up like this, or because that was another excuse to put myself out of commission, to put Lennie out of her rest, whom she deserves, after all, yet I always seems to be taking that same rest and comfort belonging to her to be replaced to my own comfort, as I throw away my grief to her shoulders, or her back as well.

I can't say sorry, or anything that sounds like an apology, for Lennie, so I hug this pillow. Sni-i-i-if... I don't know if Dan is the type that agrees to apologies with hugs, but this pillow seems to agree with me. So soft it is, yet there are no bones to tell if this hug is enough. I think I never had given a hug to someone, besides mother. She used to hold those arms into me, as I do with this pillow, and never let me fall, well, only on sleep she would let me fall into. Daddy kept doing the same when she was gone, this until she come back, or so do happen with all families. Dan's, Fratley's... the same for all. In the beginning, they hold us, they feed us, they teach us how to walk, on a same way how are we supposed to talk; then as we grown up, we hold on ourselves, we feed on our own, we walk with our feet, and talk with our mouth, thought I can talk with myself without moving those lips... Knit...

Lips... sniff. Mother used to kiss me, I know she do. While in bed, I had to drink some chai, which was kinda good, and then later smell some onions boiled in water by Lennie. Another of those grandma's stuff, who seems to be alive as she is. Lennie somehow felt bad, as much as mother would be for me. Mother... I had the oportunity to say that word, didn't I? I could have said that, but would Lennie ever had perceived of such word, on that state, my state? Sniff... I guess she wouldn't, but I also said that I could, not that I can't. 'Be my mother, and I'll be your fool', that's what would sound like, but I don't want to sound like that. I do not. No more that I want that... SNIFF! No more... Knit...

Lennie always seems to be always woke up, even after she tells me to sleep, with a good night spoke by her, to me, and only me. I know a child like me needs a good night of sleep, but what about Lennie? Knit...She may be an adult, but wasn't she a child before? Well, she has a child inside her, inside that chest. Besides me, Lennie is also taking care of my little brother, which hadn't been born yet, thought I can hear a familiar sound. The sound of two wooden objects hitting each other... Knit Knit...

The rain has it sound, but as soon as I spent an entire life underneath it, I can't even perceive such sound, the same for its smell, that becomes a daily thing. Damn! SPLAT! Mosquitos... they bother me as well. The rain may be pleasant, but the sound of those mosquitos isn't. Good thing is that they are easy to be spotted, just by this irritating melody, and the bad thing is that the blood they usually left on your hands might be yours. Knit Knit... A sort of reckoning aside, I still can hear those wooden sticks colliding, emitting of a sound, somehow pleasant as this rain. Unlike the rain, they come from inside the house, inside that room, above the orange floor, into mother's room...Knit... Knit Knit... Sniff... ...Knit... Knit Knit... Knit...

...Knit... Knit Knit... ...Knit... Knit... Knit... Knit... Knit... Knit... I wish I could see the moon from the window. All I can see are the clouds, and the rain pouring from beneath them, as usual. It's a calm rain, to be appreciated with same silence, or less than. Storms used to ran over these lands, and still do, but this night, they sound different, or do not have a sound either. The lightning brought by the thunder, as the sound that used to force myself to put my head under the blanket, vanished, unlike the sound of these sticks made for knit, and the light coming out of a gap in the middle of the clouds, a light that resembles the same brought by the sun in daylight, the light of what they call by moon in a distance, yet so close.

...Knit... Knit... Knit... ...Knit Knit... Knit... ...Knit... Knit... Knit... ...Knit. Full of holes as a cheese, or craters like the face of the old, they say there are two moons, so which one should I choose? While one is red, the other is blue. Nobody knows who is the real one, yet they still remain called as moon, for both sides. Red or blue, the moon is gray, as we, and its pieces that keep falling down, like every one of us, like each leaves of same trees that raised from same soil. I won't fall yet, as much as I won't let you fall... Never I'll do.

...Knit Knit Knit Knit Knit Knit... ...Knit... Knit... Knit Knit... I can see Jack from behind the door. I can't see the moon, but I can see from the window what seems to be a picture of Jack, and the pieces of his. He insists to be kept hid by the door, whom I used to keep close from his eyes, and curiosity. And energy. Jack used to move around this entire house ever since he learned to walk, and run by consequence. And how he used to run... He couldn't even sleep because of the energy carried on by his, unless Bart told him of a lullaby, like he used to do when holding of same toddler on his arms.

Even before he learned to walk, Jack used to be awake in the crib, still standing in the corner of this room; not a single termite had eaten the wooden legs for this day, you see. Well, his eyes gazed upon us, me and Bart, and we felt rather awkward on such times ...Knit... Knit... Knit... Knit... Soon as Jack had gotten a room to his own, and I a room to share with Bart, and only. But now you'll also share of this room, of this same crib, and of this same piece of cloth I'm knitting. I had not that much of time as Bart had to take care of Jack, or even be with his before the sleep, and be there to tell his to have good dreams. I couldn't even hold him on my arms on those times I went home with a wounded limb.

So, with a broken arm, came the broken promises, and the lies that used to fix what still is broken. Like a child hiding below the pillow, afraid of listening to the storms, I keep telling lies, and still I do, due to how I feel when they are told... Knit... Knit... Knit... ...Knit Knit Knit Knit Knit... Knit. A sense of relief, to be fair. Unlike the sense of security, I only do this relief for my sake. It's a selfish relief, attained by each lie I told, for your father, for your brother, for myself, and maybe you too. Lies can become the truth at some point, as a man also becomes a Burmecian. They may not share of same tail, or claws, but they also share of same head, same intelligence, different skins.

We all share of a kind of skin, so our flesh and bones remain hid from others, because they do need, by nature. But that nature isn't the same for the lies we kept, or what we insist to keep close. ...Knit Knit Knit... Knit Knit Knit... ...Knit... Knit... Knit... For those who are hid, or remain so, there is at least one who seeks. I can't tell which one, if me or Jack, is the seeker, and who is in hiding. Maybe we are seeking and hiding from each other at same time.

...Knit Knit... Knit... Knit... However, you can't be everything at same time, as much as I couldn't be a Dragoon Knight, or a mother figure at same time, space, and world. There is one who seeks, and hids, with a physical barrier, and another invisible for both eyes. We both share of barriers, walls, all created by ourselves to protect us from others, and others from us. But we all end up hurting ourselves, and the others by result. Yet, I do feel fine, as they do feel well too... Knit... Knit... Knit... Knit... ...Knit... Knit...

...Knit Knit... Knit... Knit... Knit Knit... Knit... Sniff. I guess Lennie didn't noticed the sound of my feet, as much as she never noticed me when wearing of that dragon skin, as cold as I turned out to be without her, this if I had been left alone, but daddy always seemed to be there. Now he doesn't. Lennie received a message about daddy. It wasn't him who wrote that same message, and how could he, with a wounded arm? Well, look at you, with a wounded heart, and a wounded else. Why only you, if Lennie is by far the one who have more wounds left in this room, this house, this life more than yourself, Jack? And, guess who's the one who left many of these wounds you are now trying to sew with a needle, resulting in more pain than relief?

Well, she did noticed I got a cold. Only when I am hurt that Lennie seems to notice me, as much as I do with her as well. Heck, she even keeps standing on that chair, knitting that green piece of cloth, a baby's cloth, or maybe a kid's cloth. Well, instead of preparing new clothes when my brother grown up, I may share of some clothes belonging to my wardobre, or so Lennie will order me to do. She always orders me to do things, even when I disagree with them. But, on the garden, I dug the earth on my own, didn't I? Or was it because of Lennie once again? Did she noticed me, or did I noticed her? I had done that because of me, or because of her? Her? HER? Knit Knit Knit Knit Knit...

...Knit Knit Knit. No, it's just Lennie. You fooled me this time, sure you had. But, this time, it was so real. To think it was all a deception, but that hand and those lips said otherwise. They tried to say, and almost got me into their intentions. Half of me, to be fair. I would say those things on my head before, but now... it's meaningless. This Lennie... Consider this motherly attitude of yours as a sicky thing too! Thought, I somehow would like to share of same disaese, to be infected by her warmth instead of my own fever. Sniff... Sniff... Sob. Sniff... I recall the taste of my tears. Knit Knit... They are salty, as much as I do. Sometimes I do feel salty, like my pee. I can still hear these sticks being hit. Kinda relaxing, yet melancholic. Why is it so hard to tell her, just a word... just a word?

KnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnitKnit... Knit Knit Knit Knit Knit Knit Knit... Knit. My legs kept moving through the nights, restless as the tail of mine. Once again... Knit Knit. What a relief... Knit Knit... Knit. Oh. No, not this kind of relief. Hum, hum hum hum huuum... Hum hum hum, hum hum hum huuum... Lennie began to hum that song. Mother used to hum that same song to me. I don't know about the lyrics, because I was too young, more than now, but still, I remember this same melody.

But... for who she's humming that? My brother? Yes, that's right. He can't even talk, but at least, he can listen to Lennie, and kick her from inside, unlike me, who kicks her without she notices of such, alike my efforts, who only seem to result in more pain, for Lennie, and for me. What a pain that I am. Yet, daddy, and mother... Sniff. They holded me so carefully. I couldn't even talk, but at least, I could listen, look, touch mother, and that hair, that seems to be falling, being left at the tip of my fingers. I once wished of same hair to belong to my tiny hands, but not these tiny lints at the bottom of my nails.

— Hey, Lennie... – I said abruplty, the first words that came into my mind, althought I tried to say more, but I couldn't. Sniff. I didn't even spoke these words while looking at Lennie. Instead, I faced the floor, or somewhere else, other than her. Not that I'm out of ideas, but because I am out of myself.

— What is it, Jack? – she asked. At least, Lennie, besides those ears, turned into my direction, gazing at me, this me, not the one at the window's glass. For some reason, I want to bite my tongue. No, I can't. If I swallow my tongue... delicious tongue meat. Tongue soup. I like lentils as well. I ate them all, alike the carrots, the radishes, even the watercress, with my teeth, as Fratley suggested. He was there, on that table as well, didn't he? I forgot that he was there as well, eating, or more like, drinking that...

— Soup... – I said, not only in my thoughts, but in my own words as well. It seems that I can talk, by now. Let's see... what I had been thinking about a seconds ago? Oh, that's right – yes... the soup. You know, Lennie, that was a wonderful soup you have made today. I liked its taste – I guess I commited a mistake right here. Lennie might be wondering, sitting on that chair, that I'm lying to her. No, I guess I didn't lied. I'm truthful to myself. I ate and I drank that soup, as much as Fratley did the same as well, thought he is always hungry.

— Well, that's pretty nice, coming from you – she said. For some reason, I feel 'taller' as I should be, by listening of Lennie, and those words. But, for another reason, I also feel like a dog, when its owner tells 'good boy' to him, and then, the dog just stands there, eating that raw flesh threw by its owner – but... Jack. You already told me that before.

— Did I? – Sniff. I guess I did. Now... you better came up with something, or else, this conversation is over. And do you want to waste of this opportunity, do you? Of course not. Daddy would never lose an opportunity, so do I – well, I just came here to say it again, to express how much grateful I do feel regarding the meal I had this day. I do not want you to forget... that... – the words failed with me, as much as I failed with this conversation. Don't forget? Well, look at you, who had forgotten that Lennie is your mom. Don't try to say otherwise, because that's another lie. The truth is that... she is your mom. See it? Can you... see it, Lennie?... Lennie?... LENNIE?... Yaaaaaaaaaaaawn...

Sniff. As I left that giant yawn, Lennie lifted from that chair, and walked towards me, until I felt those arms holding my waist. The pain inflicted around her back didn't mattered, unlike before, when I didn't needed to be holded of this same way. I... can't see cleearly because I am... ra-th-er as-le-eee... asleep? Yawn. Look at her. Look at Lennie. Look at... how much she's blinking those eyees in teh dark, anyone can guess she is faaaaah... falling. Yet, she caan't fall yet, not even on thy bed, or riight now, at this c-o-r-r-i-d-o-r... because of me, 'cause of my brother, becaauseee of this pain that am I me. Sniff.

Word eater... one word, two words, thee words, for words, five word, six words, seven words, eightee word, ninety word, tenth world, twenty ten words, heaven word, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, five teen, sixteen, seven teens, third, forth, hum dead... yaaawnnnghh. My mouth is dry. There's no spit around my lips. Sniff. Sniii-i-i-iff. My nose's phlegm seems to be hardening. This sucks, because my nose's holes gets clogged up, alike my ears. It's like there's a worm stuck in my nose, water inside my ears, and salt inside my throat, or something else that makes water vanish from a cup other than my own throat. Lennie's one, as well.

Looking at that beelly, I can guess she drank much water around these days. My brother sure seems that big, yet they all are tiny, alike my fingers. Pinky, alike... my tongue. I din't ate my tongue. What a relief. So many stretch marks around that belly. There's even one darker gray area, near her navel. Now that Lennie is wearing that dress, unlike any other I usually see her wearing, I can't see them. Or even bother about them. Yet, Lennie keeps holding me like that, as if I am more important than herself. My brother, as well.

Mother... It ain't easy. I don't know. I... I don't know, because I don't want to know. All I want to know are easy answers. Easy answers, for easy questions. Easy love, there's none of that, yet I keep insisting of such. Because... well, because... I don't know. It's easier to keep saying the same thing. Why did this happened? Well, because 'yes'. Why won't this happen? Well, because 'no'. Who keeps saying 'yes' or 'no' for anything? The easygoing ones. I am not such a thing to be called by easygoing, seeing how much I had been of a trouble for they; same can be said about Lennie, and her legs, standing there, below me, like my own legs do when I am in both feet, on my own.

I want to puke right now, but that would mean more trouble for Lennie than being my own kind. Who else to clean the mess about to come out of my throat? Wait... ain't that the same dinner I had with Lennie? No, I can't do that. I really appreciated so much of that dinner, alike that lunch, the soup, the meat, the rice, the bread, the oats... Oats? Do I like them? Not without the milk. I ate so much this day, and I am grateful of that, so I hold of what would be a potential thrown up, as I ended up engulfing of my own puke, bringing the sour down to my throat. Maybe it's because I'm anxious that I wanted to do something, instead of letting Lennie do anything for me, and my sake. But... isn't that what you wanted, or had been awaiting to see?

By cracking a pot, breaking a flower glass, by expressing yourself with the drawings made along this wall, you made daddy, and Lennie as well, do anything for you, even thought I didn't wanted those drawings to disappear from that wall, the same belonging to this corridor. I can't prepare the lunch on my own, thought daddy, or Lennie, had done it so for so long, yet even close for this now. I'm still growing up, awaiting for my legs be as taller as if , someday, I could tell these chairs and their legs to get bent with themselves, thought, by saying or even thinking about this, I may become someone with the few chairs missing, or so I heard Dan saying it, to Fratley. I don't bother losing one of two chairs from a room, if for the sake of mother, or as I call her by, Lennie.

Instead of puking, I am breathing with my own mouth. My nose is worthless when on a cold, alike my tongue as well. I can't smell, and so, I can't taste the food. To eat, I can do it, without a problem, except the lack of my nose and tongue during meal times. If I smelled that bad, I would rather become scentless like now, and that would happen if Lennie wasn't there, to bath me, or to do it so when I don't wanna. The rain is already a bath meant to be taken when you go outside this house, or whatever is the place I am where a ceiling gets soaked instead of me. It's raining outside, as usual, though I may had felt a small drip of water touching upon my nose. Maybe it was my phlegm, once again, or maybe this ceiling needs of some repairs.

Even tall like that, Lennie can't reach the top of that thing. Althought, she could jump as higher as she could. After all, she is a Dragoon Knight, or used to be. No, she used to wear that coat, and do those training stuff. When Lennie is about to sleep, she takes out that loop, tied at the back of her hair, alike that orange ribbon on that tail, my tail as well, unweaving of that ponytail, same belonging to any mother I saw. Sniff. I can't feel this nose here, but at least, I can feel these strands falling from her head, and thankfully, most of them are kept on that same head. I hold it tightly as I can, even thought those arms are already doing the same to not let me fall into the ground. I pretend to speak, instead of throwing up words from my mouth. I'm sorry, and I miss you.

I'm sorry. Unfortunately, I can't say anything, as soon as I came to where I was before. That same door, that same cold knob, that same hand, that same creak, that same room, that same wardrobe, that same mess of bed, where I lay. I'm sorry, Lennie. Sleep well, she said, as that arm, gray like a stormy cloud, tosses a blanket over me, alike a huge wave from a disturbed sea, and the pillow below my head as as the piece of wood, the remaining debris of a sunken sea, that prevents me from drowning up, except when I submerged on my own wet dreams. I'm sorry, and I miss you. Lennie. I see her, leaving this room, leaving me, your arm, the arm; my knees, a beeard of beees... My ears, my aarms; your pleas, my fleeeas...

Like a roundabout path... walking in my fooootsteps... A plenty of staaares... Submerging in their prospeects... From miles to yaaards...

Time is a heaaaleeer... Swallowed by the seeeaaa... If the shaadows could march... Cooome in a high tiiide...

My iron tail... My breadcrumb trail... Lay your hands to heaven... Luck for three sevens...

I saw a girl flying throught the skyyy... She was rather shyyy... Throw your shaards...

I'll shieeld you as a kniiight... Years of kniives... A waaste of tiime...

You won't be aloone... Bring the booys back hoome...

You won't turn bluue... Under the crescent moooon...

Peacheees and creaaaam...

A day in the life of a tree...

I'm sorry, I miss you...

— ...Lenneth.

...