Dawn to Dusk

A Story by Kaerhyn

A challenge to a prompt where the user is in complete darkness, whether physically or metaphorically.

I raised my fist high above my head, feeling the gentle brush of the autumn breeze. It was due time for the rains to come to this land, and I was already well overdue for check-in back with my village. My head cocked over my left slightly, ears shifting slightly as I strained to listen for nearby signs of anything amiss. I grasped my estasho, the pole granted me at my rite of adulthood. It was different from the normal, everyday staffs presented to most newbie adults, as I was the only one who did not emit a cry, nor shed a tear. I was praised as the demon child raised from Hell, which just means I'm the strongest and won't allow myself to be shaken by anything.

As I walked back towards the community, the first high-pitched wails -- no, screams of shrill pain and suffering -- wafted across via the winds. The rite had finally begun for this year's intake -- the ceremony takes place every Autumn before the heavy rains to decide who are the fittest for the next harvest. My brows narrowed slightly; I could almost feel the child's pain and it hurt me inside, but I would not falter. I may have been the chosen one, but I was by no means a monster; I felt pain just as any other creature -- I just hid it far better.

I heard a vague sound that didn't quite fit the norm; my hands grasped tightly on my estasho, and I spun it in front of me before launching a violent, side attack towards my rear. My pole clanged hard against a metallic substance -- I couldn't detect what the material was exactly. I ground my teeth slightly: they were early this year.

"Still proceeding with that ridiculous rite of yours?" cackled the most annoying man I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. "You'd think you'd stop killing what little manpower you've left!"

"Kaiser," I murmured, drawing back the estasho and kneeling down to swing it towards his feet. "I will hear nothing from the weakling who defected due to his cowardice. And you call yourself a MAN!"

I shouted the last word, jumping up and spinning to slam down my pole with a powerful blow. He, of course, was nothing short of unfazed. I really hated him.

"One day, you will accept that you're nothing thanks to that rite, and maybe you'll finally come to realize your sole option to living a successful life is marrying me!" he rebuked, throwing a kick that I was barely able to block with my foreleg.

Ah, did I forget to mention he desired my hand in wedlock? Well, the reasons for hating him just kept increasing one by one, don't they?

The pressure against my leg eased, and I jumped back quickly, weapon at ready. I knew he was finished picking a fight with me though -- it was the same ridiculousness he pulled every year: pick a fight with the demon child, call the rite lunacy, ask for my hand in marriage, and then run off like the idiot he was. Actually, I was fairly sure he was already long gone by then, but even I can be surprised sometimes:

"One day, I suggest you highly consider a path of life alongside me. What other man would take you, with your face as misshapen as it is from that idiotic procession you'd call a rite? More like a way of ensuring you'll never leave home as opposed to making certain you'll forever be stronger. Just like how a farmer shears his sheep, you're nothing more than a pet for them to keep close and never let go. See you tomorrow."

He wasn't too far off from the truth with that observation, but I would never leave my clan. I would never defect and lose what little skill I've gained in the past years. I suppose I could always join him in marriage, bear his children, kill him, and then drag the offspring back with me to the village for more support…but, well, no. That might just be a good idea after all; not only would Kaiser be dead, but the village would have more children amongst it. The bloodline would continue…hmm.

I headed back towards my birthplace, keeping that idea in mine. The second I entered the village, the stink of blood caked across the ground hit me like a hard gust of wind, and I grimaced slightly. That was the part of the rite I couldn't stand -- the never fading stench of congealed blood that didn't just waft, but hung in the air like the regrets and hatred of the dead. I hated the ceremony, but if we didn't do it, then we'd just have another civil war like the one nearly half a century ago. There would always be defects like Kaiser, but I preferred it when they simply died. Dead people aren't nearly as annoying as Kaiser is.

"Yecela," called one of the townsmen. "The next in line has been chosen."

"Stand aside. Let me see to him. Or perhaps she is a woman?"

"No, a boy-turned-man. He sits under the altar."

I approached steadily, silently, and yet eagerly. When someone says a newbie has been "chosen", he or she is referring to the person's lack of screaming and overall inward strength -- outward strength will come with age. I knelt down to feel the young man's face, and smiled gently when not even a shudder met my fingertips.

"A clean cut. Welcome to the clan, young one."

He gave me the best grin he could muster, though I couldn't be entirely sure. Just as with him, I myself had been held down, forced to endure as the scalpel scraped across my eyes, and disconnected the nerve endings attached. Just as he probably looked, I was a sightless creature with gouged eyes, unable to rely on anything but my instincts.

I probably really wouldn't be able to marry, like Kaiser said.

© 2013 Kaerhyn

Author's Note

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Reviews

Nene

Wow its an amaing story!!!! I loved the way it flowed and unveil itself.... I was pretty surprised when I found out that the narrator was a girl.... Nice twist.... I kinda expected her to be blind at the 2nd paragraph....
And laughed at the 11th paragraph..... Nice write