Caleb stood outside of the large building made of wrapped vines and roots. His mother’s screams echoed in his ears as the rest of his tribe went about their business. His younger sister peaked through the leather covering the entrance. He pulled her back and held her close to him.
He heard his grandmother inside, “You are doing wonderful Nina, you are so beautiful.”
He peeked through the leather, and his sister scrunched her face at the hypocrisy. His mother screamed louder, and his father paced back and forth towards the back of the room while his grandfather tried to console him.
“I can see the head, Nina.” The shaman said. “I need you to push!”
“I can’t!” She screamed. “I can’t do it! What if-”
“The hot winds can’t touch you my dear.” His grandmother said as she brushed her daughters hair away from her face. “You a brave, you are brave.”
“Is mommy dying?” His sister asked him.
He shook his head.
There was a brief moment of silence, and soon the screams and cries came from the inside. His tribe all stopped and waited. They held their breath and he held his. The shaman had taken the baby and cleaned him in a warm basin of water. Mellisandi, her assistant, brought her a bright blooming flower. She held it over the babies face, and sprinkled its pollen onto him.
“Sneeze, please sneeze,” he thought.
There was no sneeze, and Caleb’s heart sank. He quickly left, and his sister stood there confused and alone.
He sat on the remnants of a hill slowly eaten away by the elements, in the shade of a large oak tree. He had heard of the losses before. Babies that would have been his aunts and uncles, and friends who had lost brothers and sisters to the Bloom. He had never had to experience it so closely.
The sun continued its journey into the sky. He was told a birth during dawn was a good omen. A sign from the Gods of the greatness of the child. He himself had been born at dawn. It seemed the Gods didn’t care for good omens. He felt a presence behind him, and a warm soft hand on his shoulder. Mellisandi. She sat next to him and wrapped her arm around him. She pulled his head to her chest and rested her head on top of him.
“Your father is looking for you.” She said. “Your family needs you.”
He signed to her.
“You can do more than you know.” She said. “I know today was supposed to be a good day. And you will still have to take place in the ritual.”
He pulled away and signed again.
“You will become a man today so,” she relied, “ you might as well start early. Go to your family. Your actions speak louder than anyone’s words could.”
She placed her hand on his and said, “You should listen more closely to me. I am older than you.”
He smiled and shook his head. She was born at dusk, and wasn’t even a day older than him, but she would never let him forget it. They turned as leaves and grass rustled behind them, to see his father emerge from the growth. His father's eyes were red and his face was cut clean from the tears with smudges of dirt where he had rubbed them away. The thought of his father crying brought tears to his eyes. Mellisandi hugged him tightly and then walked to his father. She hugged him tightly too, and he returned it. She didn’t need to say anything. As she left to return to the village his father sat beside him and hugged him. Caleb sobbed into his father's shoulder in the silence, and he held his son closely.
“From the mother we come, and too the Mother we go.” His father said. “I know at times like this those words seem meaningless, but they are words to remember my son.”
Caleb looked up to him and signed.
“I know you are son,” he said,” but there is no reason to be. Let’s go back to the village. The Procession will start soon, and Erik will be added to the monument.”
In the center of the village, a large tree was memorialized into a shrine. Flowers and plants of all kinds of beauty wrapped around its trunk and climbed into its branches. The babies who Bloomed were added to it as a reminder and tribute to those who were lost. The entire tribe was always in attendance. Everyone had lost children and siblings.
Caleb stood next to his father emulating his strength and fortitude, while his mother held her daughter and cried. His sister cried with her, though it was mostly empathy. She was still to young to understand the gravity of the ritual. The shaman walked out of the building carrying his small brother, no longer breathing with small green leaves peaking and breaking though his soft skin. Mellissandi followed close behind her head bowed in reverence. She was beautiful, always, but particularly in the colorful ceremonial robes.
The shaman slowly walked through the crowd, and they all bowed and payed their respects the child. She stepped up the grassy steps to the family awaiting her, and Mellisandi took her place near Caleb. The shaman placed the baby in a soft patch of leaves at the base of the tree. She bowed her head and clasped her hands together in prayer. The tribe followed her in ceremony. They stayed like this in silence. Mother and fathers, brothers and sisters. Some in silence, some cried. For an hour this went on as the baby slowly disappeared into the green and buds formed and bloomed into magnificent glowing flowers.
When the child had completely disappeared, the shaman turned and said, “There will always be mourning for the ones we have lost. But there are times for celebration.”
Mellisandi reached behind Caleb and locked her hand with his giving him some of her strength.
“While we mourn the loss of Erik,” the shaman continued, “we must remember from the mother we come, and to the Mother we return. The Gods haven’t taken anything from us, they have only given us something to grow from. Something to give us strength, if we accept it. They have spared Erik from the pain and suffering that is our life, and through them have granted us the opportunity to overcome our own pain and suffering.”
She turned to Nina and placed her hands on her shoulders and touched her temple to Nina’s.
“Nina, my beautiful sister, the Mother knows of your loss. It is a cycle that she feels through us. She mourns with you.” The shaman said to her.
She plucked a large blooming flower from the tree, pushed it behind Caleb’s sister’s ear, and said, “For you my dear. You will blossom into a beautiful woman someday. Take this to always remember your brother by. One day you will understand.”
She stood in front of his father and hugged him, “My brother, your loss is felt by all the other fathers. You have provided and aided our tribe in so many ways that cannot be repaid. You are not unnoticed! It is your strength that carries us through troubled water. But remember to be like the Great River, flowing and changing. Feel the love and pain of this world, and don’t become hardened like the rock. Even the hardest rocks are broken by the softest flowing and dripping of water.”
She turned to Caleb and shot a disapproving glance at Mellisandi who quickly let go of his hand. She smiled and placed her hands on his face and rubbed his cheeks, and she said, “My little brother, while now we mourn, today we will also celebrate your acceptance of manhood. The Gods have taken your voice, but they have granted you much more. Your actions! You are so much like the Father, far more than you may ever realize. But soon it will be your time to provide and protect and today will begin your first steps on your righteous path. You will become a beacon for the young boys to follow, hunt the great beast of the plain, and you are destined for many great things.”
Caleb’s father held his mother’s hand and ushered his family down the steps and through the crowd. They reached out to family placing soft hands on their shoulders. Their display of warmth, sent chills down Caleb’s spine. And slowly after the entire tribe had paid their respects, the family had left to the solitude of their abode. The crowd dissipated and returned to tending the sporadic crops in the village, and hunters left to the Great Plain.
Before every ceremony, there was a great feast. The days bounties all brought an shared among the tribe. Some families grew one crop, others grew many in smaller quantities. Large families shared resources, and those who had not yet started their families often lived together in their own longhouses, working together to yield their own crops to share. They often took in the orphans in, so not to overburden the large families. No one told them what to grow, how to grow, or where to grow. It was theirs, and theirs alone.
Caleb’s tribe was the tribe of the plains, but in the distance long caravans of people and carts made their way there. The tribe of the river, the closest tribe, would often come and pay tribute and respects and offer goods to the feast. The tribe of the plains would do the same. Before the feast goods were traded, jerky for fish, grains for fruits. Both tribes were plentiful in food thanks to the Mother’s generosity. Crops only took days to grow to maturity. They were hearty and virtually immune to most types of destruction. There was virtually no need to hunt or fish, and it was reserved as a rite of passage - a call to adventure. Hunts only took place on special occasions and great festivals. Weddings between people, peace from a war, and the ceremonies of manhood and womanhood.
The tribe of the river had one unique benefit, their trade network. They received goods from all over, trading with various tribes along the river. Their enterprise brought goods that would be impossible to grow in other areas, citruses to the north and furs to the south. Old world goods were their specialty and their appearance reflected it as they adorned the most unique jewelry and clothing of any tribe. The high noon sun glinted off of it, and they were always seen. The two tribes had never warred with each other, in fact neither warred with any tribe. The tribe of the plains was secluded from most others with large swaths of land separating them. The tribe of the river, on the other hand, met with hundreds of other tribes. They had no war, because their market prevented it. No one tribe would risk losing their node in the network over petty squabbles and grips for power.
Caleb and is father had carried a large skinless boar to the center of the festival, placing it with the bison and venison. His sister helped shuck corn with their mother, for only a moment before the boredom set in. Soon she was running and playing with the other children. Her mother smiled for the first time all day.
“Come, Caleb,” his father said as he wrapped his arm around his son. “Let us go greet our guest.”
The tribe of the river was making their way up the hill led by their chieftain who carried a small child in a swath of cloth. He was a large muscular man with a hefty beard and scars across his face from a wolf attack. The legend was a pack of wolves 50 strong had attacked his village. He would often say 100 with a wink.
There was a look of displeasure on his face, and he stood and stared at Caleb’s father for minutes before he let out a hearty laugh.
He quickly embraced Caleb’s father tightly and said, “My brother, it has been too long. I am sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you brother,” Caleb’s father said. “Have you remarried?”
A young woman, older than Caleb but much younger than his father and the chief, emerged from behind him and smiled.
“Yes,” she said, “I don’t take no for an answer.”
The tribe of the plains’ shaman had joined in the greetings and said, “That is good my
child, he is far too young to be alone. My sister would be happy for you.”
“Thank you,” he replied. “I-”
The shaman stopped him and said, “We all miss her greatly, but the wheels of time stop
for no one. We must never let the dead drag us with them, we must move forward and honor them.”
He nodded in agreement and asked Caleb’s father, “Would you like to hold her?”
He didn’t wait for a reply before he shoved the baby into his arms. Caleb could see his father melt. He smiled and laughed as the baby cooed. The chieftain quickly turned to Caleb and prodded him.
“Are you a man yet?” He asked pushing and poking at him. “Come on and show me.”
He had Caleb in a headlock and wrestled him to the ground kicking up dust. Caleb resisted, out weighed and out classed, but he fought still. He moved to the man’s back wrapping his legs around the mans chest and restraining his left arm. He would have let Caleb win, but Mellisandi rushed past them in a blur. Distracted, the man flung Caleb from his back and pinned him to the ground.
“We’ll make a man out of you yet,” the man said.
Caleb was watching Mellisandi still.
“Oh,” the man said and he laughed, “well maybe you are getting there on your own.”
Caleb jumped up and quickly beat and brushed off the dirt and dust, and Mellisandi rushed to an old woman and embraced her tightly swinging around.
“Mother!” She said. “How is everything, are my brothers coming? Is father here?”
It was customary for those who would become to shamans to be trained in other tribes, and once they had learned all there was to learn, it was up to them to decide if they went back home or stayed.
“No,” she said. “Oh, they would have wanted to so much, but they are too far south along the river.”
Caleb began to walk toward them, but the man and his father wrestled him away.
“You are not a man just yet,” the man said. “Come let us begin the feast.”
Every ceremony began with a feast, tribes came together and ate. They shared food and laughter. Stories of triumph and tall tales of victory. They spread the news of other tribes, and of the dark men from the east who had began exploring further and further out. Tales of new tribes forming in the east, dark men and some women who sought after the light.
Men and women met each other flirting, and children taught each other the games of their tribes. Hunters competed in skills and traded what they had learned, and farmers traded their seeds and compared their bounties and methods. One by one the river tribe greeted Caleb and his family, and they offered condolences and congratulations. As the smell of smoke and fats and meat and sweet scent of roasted vegetables lingered in the air, the two shamans stood.
They ushered in a silence.
“Today is a great day,” the tribe of the river’s shaman said.
“While we mourn the loss of a child,” the tribe of the plains’ shaman said, “we honor their memory with the celebration of growth. We celebrate the future.”
“We must remember,” the tribe of the river’s shaman said. “Our eyes are in the front for a reason. To move forward, not backwards.”
“We are here to celebrate the beginning of Caleb’s ascension.” The tribe of the plains’ said presenting Caleb to the mass of people.
Caleb’s father nudged him to stand and present himself to which he did to a thunderous roar and applause. The musicians of the tribes played their instruments, a variety of drums and flutes and strings.
The ceremony evolved into a dance. Drinks were shared and sweet herbs were smoked. Husbands and wives began the dance, and soon the unmarried joined in switching partners throughout the songs. Those younger than Caleb who hadn’t yet had their ceremonies watched and laughed at the awkwardness of some men and women, before the shaman hushed them.
“That will be you one day,” she said. “Soon you will test each other to find compatibility and love.”
As the older generation made room for the younger, the shamans ushered Caleb to the center. The tribes laid hands on him as he passed, and the younger women took their turns dancing with him. He wasn’t much of a dancer, and with each partner change he became more and more self-conscious of his moves. Soon it was just an afterthought, exposure had chipped away and his confidence bloomed. Mellisandi had watched and laughed at him, and it slowly faded.
Her mother was next to her and said, “Go my child.”
The shamans pushed her into the center, and with a brief interlude of awkward staring she danced with Caleb.
As the music died down, the final ritual in the ceremony was to begin. The tribe returned to their laughter and mingled together, and the tribe of the plains’ shaman ushered Caleb into a small building adorned with bright flowers and green vines. Mellisandi followed after them.
They sat Caleb down on a pile of skins and cotton. They took turns inhaling a long pipe of lit the herbs, and blew the smoke in his face. Mellisandi took flowers of great colors and mashed them into a paint, and she slowly applied it to his face in great swirls and large bold lines along his forehead and cheeks. The shaman did the same to Mellisandi. A small hole was filled with glowing coals in the center of the building, and a pot boiled water inside. The shaman added plants and herbs into the mixture and let it seep.
“You will see a many great things,” she said. “The Gods will speak to you, and you must listen. A great evil will see you as well, and you must resist. They all reside inside you. Like two wolves, the one you feed will be the one that grows.”
She filled a cup with the liquid, and drank some to test the potency and warmth. She took the last of the pot and refilled the cup to be full. She handed it to Mellisandi who put the cup to Caleb’s lips.
“Only half my child,” the shaman said.
The walls and outlines of the world around Caleb began to vibrate and bend. The coals glowed bright and the heat tore their color into the air with it. Slowly the world around him dissipated into nothingness.
The shaman took the cup from Mellisandi and sat her next to Caleb. She kicked dirt over the coals and covered them killing the heat. Mellisandi was confused, and the shaman offered the rest of the cup to her.
“Wait, aren’t you leading him?” Mellisandi asked.
“No,” she said. “My child I have taught you everything I know. It is you who will lead him, it was always meant to be you.”
Mellisandi drank the tea and fell back onto the skins and cottons, as the shaman left the building.
Caleb was freezing in the darkness around him. He tried to move, but his body was frozen and frosted over.
“Am I dead?” He said.
He said… He could speak! He had a voice!
“That isn’t the question you should ask,” an ethereal voice echoed in the darkness.
“Mellisandi? I can’t move. What is-” He said.
“You can move, leave that place!” She commanded.
Caleb sat up, cracking his bones and the frost floated off his body. He still shivered and his breath clouded in front of him. He wandered in the darkness and called out for Mellisandi. An ominous presence shadowed his every move. He ran from it, but it only felt closer to him. He ran in the opposite direction and again it was only closer. He felt around for a stick, a rock, anything that he could use, but it was only wet and cold.
“Who else is here!” He shouted into the void.
“Who else is there?” The void echoed.
“Mellisandi?” He yelled again.
“Caleb,” she said, “it is just you and me.”
“No,” he said, “someone, something, is here with me.”
“Then it is just yourself.” She said. “Meet him Caleb, confront him, integrate him, defeat him.”
He moved forward, until he saw a dark figure moving towards him. He stopped, and it stopped. He took a step, and it took a step. It mirrored his every move simultaneously as he did. He clenched his fist tight and moved forward, running at the figure. It was himself, exactly like him. Inches apart he started into himself.
For eternities they stared at each other, breathed with each other, and invaded each other. He reached out, hesitantly. As their fingers touched a tentacle of vines ripped out of his mirrorself and wrapped around him and constricted him. His mirrorself had disappeared and he was being dragged under the water he was walking on. Soon only his head remained as he thrashed about, but in the distance he saw himself standing in front of two triangles. One was black, blacker than the surrounding void and pointed down. The other was white and shined brilliantly pointing up.
“Wait,” he said as the water reached his chin, “If that is me, then who am I?”
Caleb turned around, his mirrorself disappearing underneath with the vines where he once was. He turned and saw two shadowing figures with morphing sempiternal shapes above their cloaked heads. Their hands inverted from each other, they stood next to each portal.
“Which one do I take?” He asked.
“Which one do you want to feed?” Mellisandi replied.
The black triangle radiated strength and it was hard and cold. It called to him. The white one did not speak, but it was warm. He moved into the white triangle, and was enveloped in warm white light until he was nothing but a thought.
Caleb shot out of the water, surrounded by woods and forest and a warm breath licked his skin. The sun blinded him at first. He was in a grotto, a magnificent waterfall poured down up worn rocks before him. He turned to leave, but the trees groaned and the ground shook and moaned. The earth around him rocketed into sky trapping him. On top of the waterfall Mellisandi stood silently watching him.
“Climb,” a voice rattled in his mind.
It didn’t belong to him, nor was it Mellisandi. It was different separate, but it was a part of everything. He felt it in his bones, in the trees, and in the rocks around him. He felt it in his bones. Climb!
The waterfall showered him as he reached up it, gripping the slimy rocks behind it and step by step he pulled himself up. The water ripped away his clothes until he was nude. Then it peeled back his skin, exposing his muscular systems. The water ate away his muscles as he continued, and it left nothing but his skeleton and his eyes. Soon his eyes were gone, but he could still see. He was nothing but a skeleton as he made it to the top, but his mind was still intact. He pulled himself up one final time, and he was renewed and whole. He was back at the bottom of the grotto, and Mellisandi silently watched him from on top.
“Again!” The Voice Commanded.
Again, he climbed. The water ripping away his clothes, peeling away his skin, and tearing his muscles apart.
“Again!” The Voice echoed.
Again!
AGAIN!
It continued on infinitely. Up the waterfall, back to the grotto. From the grotto, to the top of the waterfall. Losing himself, and becoming renewed. Every time he reached out for Mellisandi. Every time he felt so far away.
One final time he lunged out grabbing her hand, and lightning shot out of them both magnetizing them together. The canopy above them opened up and the sun kissed and warmed their skin. He pulled her close, and she gripped him tightly. In the rush of the electricity in the air, he kissed her. She kissed him back, and removed his shirt. Her hand kissed his neck, over the scar and the red burns from the fire and timber that took his voice. He disrobed her and they fell together on a soft cushion of moss. He kissed her soft skin, and their breath shook out of their bodies in anticipation.
He was inside of her, and she gripped onto his back and grabbed his hair and pulled his head to hers as she shallowly moaned in his ear. He continued faster, until they came together as one and shot into the universe through the veil into cosmic unitary consciousness. They were all, and all was in them.
Mellisandi sat over him wiping the sweat from his brow, when he bolted awake and clambered away. He was in the building. She stared at him waiting for his rely.
“Did we-” he said, but soon realized he no longer had his voice.
He began to sign to her, but his hands shook violently.
Frustrated, he gave up and stared into her sapphire eyes. She waited. He reached out for her hand, but stopped. Uncertain, he reached out again to her cheek and touched her soft skin. He remembered the feeling, and quickly lunged forward and kissed her. She was surprised, but as he pulled back she pulled him closer to her, and kissed him back. They laid on the skins and cotton, kissing each other and staring into each other’s eyes. Soon the beats of drums and music played, and Mellisandi helped him up. She rubbed lavender oils on his skin, and he on hers together smelling sweet. She led him out of the building, and into a thunderous applause of the tribes outside. Outside the entrance, their parents stood with the shamans. They bowed their heads to the two and adorned Caleb in leis and wreaths of flowers. In typical cases Caleb would meet a young woman he danced with and together they would dance again, but this was not a typical case. He held onto Mellisandi’s hand and led her to the center of the crowd. As they passed the crowd adorned her with leis and flowers, until they were in the center dancing magnificently with each other. The tribes drank and smoked through the night, until the sun peeked over the horizon and the ritual was complete.
Thank you for taking the time to read this original short story. If you enjoyed it consider reading my other short stories in the Bloom Anthology:
Bloom
Love is the Reason
As always I welcome and ecourage any feedback or critisicm in the comments section. What did you like? What did you hate? How can I continue to improve my craft? Again, thank you for your time and your consideration.
