Narzack

            Maris watched Kellin with concern.  Even while sleeping, he was tormented.  The way he ground his teeth, the fierceness with which he clenched his fists told her that he was reliving that horrible, sunny day. 

            It truly had been a beautiful day.  Not a cloud in the sky.  Birdsong had filled the air.  It had been Kellin’s anguished howls that brought a few of the townsfolk, including Maris and Ailish’s mother, to the bloody scene.

            It was a vision out of some Bosch nightmare.  Blood, too much blood, was strewn, splashed all of the area.  On the ground, in the trees, on the trunks, even in the water.

            Kellin was sitting with his back against a tree trunk, cradling Ailish’s broken, hollow body.  Her pale, so pale skin was blasphemously painted with blood.  Her hair was matted against her lovely, lovely forehead.  Kellin, too, was bloodied and torn.  His legs were busted, tilted at unnatural angles.  Vicious, wicked gouges on his head poured bright blood into his eyes.  Hunks of his chest hung loose and flapping, and he was soaked in his and Ailish’s blood.

            He was rocking back and forth, moaning and kissing Ailish with bloody, battered lips.

            Ailish’s mother came undone.  Howling, crying, screaming, she rushed forward, taking Ailish’s frail, too small body from Kellin.

            He pushed himself to his feet, roaring in sudden rage.  He took one violent step forward, arms out and clutching for Ailish.  There was a sickening crack, and the sound of bone grinding on bone.  His legs bent the wrong way and he dropped to the ground. 

            “Ailish!  No!  Where are you!?  Beast!  Demon!  KILLER!”  He screamed, crawling forward.  And then, the wails of Ailish’s mother reached him.  And he seemed to break down again.  He buried his face in his hands, weeping broken, wrenching sobs, mixing with the desperate cries of a mother holding her dead child.  Amidst his tears, Maris heard Kellin calling for her, calling for Mother.

            She rushed forward, gathering him up in her arms, her son, her dear son.

            The day stayed wretchedly beautiful.

            When Kellin was able to speak, he told of a demon, a creature of nightmares, an unholy wolf.  It had slashed her throat, and left her to bleed to death.  He’d crawled his way to her and held her as her life fled.  He’d said her last words were that she wasn’t scared anymore and to find the Light of Shea.  And she died.

            After the funeral, and as the months passed, Kellin spoke less and less.  Ailish’s mother, too, died; she of a broken heart, it was said.  His legs healed and were strong again.  His body rebuilt itself, leaving only scars.  But his soul was damaged.

            Maris saw it.  She knew that no matter how he loved her, or she him, she couldn’t mend Kellin.  Not yet, not this wound.  He would need her later, much later.  To face a different test.  But not this one.  She knew who and what would make him whole again.  And she wept.  Because when he found it, he would be beyond her reach. Far, far, away.

            As she watched her son, she could think only of her little boy, her little boy, so happy, so alive.  Ignorant to the trials, the pains he would endure.  Happy.

            His eyes opened.

            “Mother?”

            “Yes, Kellin?” She whispered, stroking his damp forehead.

            “I see her every night.  She tells me the same thing.”

            “What does she tell you?” Maris asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

            “She tells me to find the Light of Shea.  The Hope of Tomorrow.  She says I need to look for the Birth of Living Joy.  And something about love.  I don’t understand any of it, mother.  I just want to lie down and never get up.”       

            “I know, son.  I know it’s hard.  It feels like your heart has been torn out of your chest.  And it must hurt worse to feel like no one believes you.”

            “No one does believe me, mother!  I know Mr. Ketchum thinks I killed Ailish.  And no on can find any trace of the wolf.  No one believes me.  Do you even believe me?”
            “I know you would never hurt Ailish.  Her mother knew that, too.  I don’t know what to believe beyond that, Kellin.”

            Lies.  She knew that everything Kellin claimed was true.  She knew the beast that took Ailish.  Just as she knew Kellin would face it again.

            “Kellin, you have to endure.  Ailish wouldn’t want you to curl up and die.  You know that.  I don’t know every force at work in this world, but maybe you –should- try to find this Light of Shea.”

            “Yeah, maybe,” Kellin said softly.

The next day, a raging mob came to the house, thirsty for Kellin’s blood.