{Sins of our Father} (Sampson)

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{Sins of our Father} (Sampson) Sept 12, 2013 20:10:14 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Sept 12, 2013 20:10:14 GMT -5

RUM TUM TUGGER

----
But I can't go back
And I don't want to
'Cause all my mistakes
They brought me to you
They brought me to you
----

I wonder if it’s strength that gave my mother the courage to run away. Was it the voice in her head that kept her feet running, me tucked on her back, all chubby cheeks and gurgling, until she retreated out into the wild? Was it the scorn of rejection that pushed her over mountains and across rivers? What kept her warm those nights when the stars spread overhead like a blanket, and calls of birds and other beastly creations rang off the rocks? Her words washed over me like water. I love you Rum.

[/color] The worlds splash over my back and through my hair. I’d die for you a thousand times. And come right back from the ever after just to save you ‘gain.[/color] I think of her long brown hair cascading over her shoulders. I dream of her voice, now just an echo in my head. If I could pluck my thoughts like a fiddle it I would, every hour of every day. Hasn’t been more than two years, but just like her voice, her face fades. Every day brings new memories; pushing out the old ones and making me think less of her. It’s the anger, too, which chips away at her image. That she left me, that she lied to me, and that an entire life was in this district I could have never known[/color].

One of my brothers is dead. A strange void sits where he should have been. It’s silly to think I’d feel the same pain as I did with my mother. Here is emptiness where there should’ve been—a joy I haven’t known. I fill it up with questions to the point of it overflowing: what did he hope for? What did he dream about? What kind of brother was he? Would we have loved one another? Would he have loved me?[/color] The pain that is etched in the faces of my other brothers is word enough to know that he was someone special. Again I want to run away. What if I don’t measure up? There’s enough to be said for a love that’s fresh and new. But what about when they come to understand who I truly am? My head swims through the night. The reverie is all but gone now, leaving a few smoldering torches and the broken backs of boys turned men. Sampson, as I learn the younger one is called, stays at a distance. He looks up to me with eyes of wonder, as though my voice could bend steel and my hands could pluck the moon from the sky.

We walk along the edge of the cornfields. They stretch to the edge of the horizon. I wonder how far it is until the next farm. Should I be afraid of peacekeepers out here?[/color] Sampson still holds onto my arm not saying a word. It’s like a dream: the stalks of green give way to a hillside that drops off onto a creek. Water flows along a curve where further up there’s another hill. A pair of trees span over the two of us. I don’t know how but I’m pulled towards their arms. It’s all cast under starlight with me hovering in shadow. I wait for him to ask me who I am but the words don’t come. He leads me instead to the base of the hill where the dirt gives way to a patch of rocks. The tide comes in and out and splashes against my boots. Sampson lets go of my arm here to step back into the water. He stares at me, eyes wide. The wide blows my hair into my face, and I’m pulled back from my dream.

I wonder where Freya has wandered off to. A chill runs down my back and I cross my arms across my chest. She can’t have gone too far.[/color] I look up at the sky. She wouldn’t leave me here.[/color] The thought slips out my head like a thief into the darkness. I hear Sampson make noise in the creek. Still no words from his lips, only the quiet resignation he’s found a secret he can never share. Are you my brother?[/color] I hear his words again from down the hill. Are you?[/i][/color] I squeeze my arms tighter against my chest. The wind drags me down low, and I close my eyes. We have the same blood in our veins, but I don’t know yet if we’re family. I don’t know them from the peacekeeper whose head Freya smashed, or the other kids sitting in a circle in the field. A rustle comes from the corn, and I open my eyes. Sampson’s wandered off further; I can hear his voice in the distance. His spirit is magnetic. Even halting and unsure, there’s not a lick of bad to that one.

“Sampson?” I utter out. Though the river runs and the stars still shine overhead, I can’t help but be gripped by the emptiness. This marks the first time I’ve been alone in months. My heart beats faster as I edge along the water looking for Sampson. Here and now I wonder what will happen if I set off alone again. What if the sun rises and I can’t find Freya? What if the peacekeepers take her, and find out about my family? All of this would be my fault, and yet everyone else would have to pay for it. I listen to the creek as the water gurgles against the rocks. Sometimes we can’t control our fates,[/color] I can hear my mother saying, but that doesn’t mean we can turn our backs on it.[/i][/color] I chose to come here. I chose to inspire chaos. It was me that hurled us all out of orbit and unraveled what was probably a happy little home. I let out a sigh and bring my hands to my knees. If there’s one thing that I’ve ever been good at, it’s organized chaos. [/blockquote][/size][/justify]

Sampson
Merchant

[M:-50]

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last seen Sept 7, 2018 6:51:56 GMT -5

pardon me, just getting used to v5...

{Sins of our Father} (Sampson) Oct 3, 2013 22:42:34 GMT -5

Post by Sampson on Oct 3, 2013 22:42:34 GMT -5

Oh my brother
Your wisdom is older than me
Oh my brother
Don't you worry 'bout me

Having the face of a brother does not make someone a brother. The features on the boy's—Rum Tum, as the other stranger had called him—head that match Benat's old image so perfectly are incredibly close to the real deal (or what was the real deal), but that doesn't make him my brother. He can flaunt Benat's nose and chin and even his smile; I don't mind. Or, at least, I wouldn't mind. He could have all of those things, those things that used to be my brothers, but when I recognized the eyes, I lost it. That was why I ran away from my own surprise birthday party after everything seemed to go to hell. Benat's eyes. The stranger, the walking corpse, had his eyes. He carried the signature stars in them, the Izar stars, as I sometimes referred to them as in my mind. I've only known my family to have that shimmering glimmer that I pinpoint so clearly every time I look in a mirror or connect with Sampson. It's just something there, maybe a light that my mind has conjured up as a figment of my imagination. But for me, it's there. Stars live in the eyes of the Izars and, as if in compensation for offering them a place to stay, they let us sleep among them in the sky when we die.

So no, it wasn't that Rum Tum's voice sounded so much like the one that spoke my brother's dying wishes as they were whispered out of the television speakers that scared me off. It was his eyes that made me fear the walking dead like a sinner fears judgement day. It was his eyes that made me wonder if a face of a brother doesn't make someone kin, then do their eyes? Because I've never seen anything like that before. A spark like that, resting in someone's gaze, doesn't show itself for anyone. I always thought I was crazy for thinking that us Izars have any kind of peculiar stars in our eyes, but even then, why would my mind make up the illusion that Rum Tum has one if I don't believe, somewhere in the back of my mind, he just might actually be related to me?

I don't want to believe I have another brother. Two was fine. One is fine. Two will not be fine. He can't just wander into our lives and say things like, "I’m someone else, but I’m your brother. I—you have to… please let me explain. Please don’t leave me here. I don’t want to lose you all again." He couldn't just say those kinds of things in front of Sampson and expect it to be alright. I can't imagine what my little brother thinks about this or how it will affect him. How it will affect us. Our sense of normalcy, something we've struggled so hard to find for what seems like years, has been shattered by this Rum Tum boy in just a few words. He cannot be my brother. My brothers are Sampson and Benat. Sampson is the only one still alive. My instinctual desire to preserve him, to shield him from everything, is what makes me hunt him down, especially now that he has run off with our new stranger. That is the only reason I go stumbling into the trees, searching for the ghost of our dead Benat and the boy who wanders beside him holding his hand.

"Sampson?" the loud crunching of muddy gravel and sticks beneath my boots does not drown out ~~Benat's~~ Rum Tum's voice as I move under the shade of the tall trees. Has he lost my brother or has Sampson finally smartened up and slipped away? For some reason, I doubt the latter option. Both Sampson and I are dumb when it comes to the subject of Benat. Not like not knowing an answer to a question kind of dumb, but more like being numb. It's just sensitive and sometimes, our nerves make us stupid and so full of feelings we don't know what to do. Seeing Benat back, seemingly in the flesh, would be enough to blind Sampson. He would easily be engrossed with the idea of having Benat back, or at least, a brother just like him. I doubt he'd voluntarily walk away from such a beautiful trap.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, so you better start talking," I know he isn't looking for me, but he's got me. I have arrived. The other brother, the fool that isn't so foolish anymore, has showed up to keep his baby brother's heart from being shattered all over again. That's me. As I step towards the river, eyes searching for Sampson, I avoid Rum Tum's eyes. It's easier to keep myself together, to keep myself from wondering, if I don't see that spark in his eyes. I just came to collect my one and only living brother, as painlessly as possible. I dread knowing the truth that things are rarely painless in life anymore.

'Cause there are stars
Up above
We can start
Moving forward

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{Sins of our Father} (Sampson) Oct 7, 2013 11:24:45 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Oct 7, 2013 11:24:45 GMT -5

RUM TUM TUGGER

----
But I can't go back
And I don't want to
'Cause all my mistakes
They brought me to you
They brought me to you
----

I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time. So why can’t I think of the right words to answer him?

[/color] You’d have thought that I would have rehearsed this over and over. I guess I just thought the words would come. Funny, that. I thought someone like me would be able to say all the right things. Looking back now, after all the dumb stuff that’s come out of my mouth, my pride got the best of me. Like some sort of storybook, we were all to meet at the edge of the rows of corn—the three of them were supposed to be there finishing up their work for the day—and I’d whistle out to them. They’d wipe the sweat from their brows and I’d clear my throat. They would hear me explain how I’d finally come to find them. They’d hush me and look to one another with grins as wide as the ocean. Then they’d wrap their arms around me and tell me that I’d finally come home.

“I know.” I move both hands to my forehead and cover my eyes. I didn’t feel like crying before, but now the lump has gone up in my throat. I move my hands down over my mouth. The water splashing against the rocks is the only sound. I put my hands down to my sides and take a deep breath. “I got to tell you the truth, even if it doesn’t—if you don’t…” There’s a stumble and I can feel myself ready to fall. His gaze is as intense as the summer sun, and the quiet of the night isn’t making it any easier. I wish that Sampson would interrupt the both of us, but he still seems nowhere to be found. He looks at me the same way the peacekeeper did those years ago, right before he bashed my head in with his night stick. A chill runs up my spine, and I lick my lips.

Are you my brother?[/color] I hear Sampson’s words again. I’m amazed at how the mop-headed little boy gives me courage. It’s fragile like fresh ice on a river, and I know it’s bound to crack. Are you?[/color] I look over at Deval. The stars reflect in his eyes. The good in him radiates—he’s not a bad kid. Maybe it’s me being naïve, but I’ve always thought people were good at heart. That’s the reason why I haven’t made my mind up about my—our—father. I look down at the dusty earth again. Seventeen years is a long time to go without a part of me; I feel like it may take just as long to figure out how everything fits together. All of us deserve better than what we’ve been given. If I could give Deval and Sampson the world, I would. A pang starts in my chest and I take another deep breath.

“My mother and I were wanderers. I spent my whole life outside these walls.” The start is slow, and I can feel the pounding in my chest lift up into my ears. A rustle in the reeds behind tells me we’re being watched, but I don’t pay it mind. He needs to hear it too.[/color] “So I grew up without knowing where I came from. She always told me that my family had been a group of wanderers…” I blinked, my courage cracking into pieces as my eyes stayed put on the ground. “We used to come back to district eleven a lot, but we… I didn’t think there was anything special about it…” I close my eyes then, imagining my eight-year-old self on the edges of the walls, waiting for my mother to come back from her sojourn inside. She would spend whole days between the walls. Each time I would feel a little less about her disappearing until it felt as simple an event as tying my shoes.

“We came back here a couple of years ago.” I grab at my nose with my hand. After a nervous fidget, I glance up at Deval again. “She used to come in here alone. She never took me. I would just wait—and wait until she came back out. But that time she didn’t. She was only supposed to be back in the afternoon,” I say to myself, recounting her words. By the time the sun’s at its peak, I’ll be back and we’ll swing on out of here.[/color] “I made my way in to find her. I guess people must have thought I was your brother because people said hello to me. And then I got to the center of town, I saw her. They had her by her arms and were taking her to the justice building. She wouldn’t stop trying to break out of their hold—I started running toward her, telling them to stop. I was stupid I just… I wanted to save her…”

I let the words spill out into the air. It had been animal, the instinct that lead me to run at the peacekeepers. I should have been more afraid, but she was the only thing in my life worth saving.[/color] “They started to beat her, and one of them hit her hard in the head. She just… crumpled, like a tree cut over.” I let out a sigh. “I tried to get to her, but someone grabbed me. They hit me too, until I stopped screaming.” Black had clouded over my vision so quickly, I thought they’d killed me, too. “Your father…” I pause again and chew my bottom lip. “Our father, he had been there. Took me to some shed—must have been on your property.” The cold of the towel against my forehead and his dirty hands are still too clear in my mind. “He couldn’t believe how much I looked like Benat.” It’s the first time saying his name, and it sends a chill down my spine. “He said that a long time ago, he and my mother… well, that he knew my mother. She’d run off when they couldn’t be together—she didn’t have anyone that wanted her around. And then…”

I get the copper taste in my mouth, as though I’ve chewed right through my bottom lip. “He told me I couldn’t stay. He said he didn’t have room, because he had three sons, and all of us would be in trouble.” I’d been thrown out as though I was worthless. A fifteen-year-old wanderer without a home. “So I left because he’d wanted me to.” I look up at Deval. In the light of the moon, he’s a warrior—fists ready, stern voiced and determined. It makes me proud to have such a strong brother. “But I came back because I couldn’t go without knowing you.”[/blockquote][/size][/justify]