Pain awoke me. Pain that creeps up on you, pain that once it is there, is the most pain that many have the displeasure of feeling. It is the type of pain that many experience on a daily basis, and can go away in a moment, but the relief is always fleeting. The type of pain that to those who experience it, is an old friend, a friend that they wish they could forget, but most always it returns with a smile.
My pain was deafening. So bad was my pain I needed to give voice to it. So I cried. I shrieked. I howled. I allowed the world to hear my pain. I needed sustenance. My father woke with a start complaining under his breath about my inability to allow him to get a good night sleep. At least that’s what I assume. He stumbled over to my crib to sniff, and feel all around my body. After a few minutes he walked out of the shack for a destination that I could only dream contained food.
After what seemed like hours to me he returned, but with an older woman following behind him. She walked to me her, white speckled black hair loose around her head falling to the small of her portly back. She unbuttoned the top of her dress to allow an old and slightly wrinkled food bag come out. My father stared lechuorley at her. To which she only gave a fed-up sigh. She cradled me against her breast and allowed me to suckle at her. My internal adversary which I was in a loosing battle with not ten seconds ago was in the midst of a full retreat.
Unfortunately when I was not yet totally satisfied, the walking blood bag pulled me away and gently replaced me back in my trough. I protested to the woman to let me continue my battle against my long forgotten foe from my past life, but it was to no avail. My father gave the woman something, and she left.
My father trundled over to my side, and gave me his finger to suckle and sang a lullaby. His voice was deep and soothing, the song had long drawn out words and had a feel of deep caring and pain. I did not get to hear the end of the song as I was taken back into the slumber that I had only previously been taken out of by my devastating enemy.
Morning came, to which I was awoken by the light coming through the thatch roofing. My father was not anywhere to be seen. Feeling as if I was unceremoniously abandoned, I could not hind my feelings and, again was reminded of my previous self whom was never able to find a good friend or a person to allow me to love. Again I let loose the flood gates of my heart, as there was nobody to hear my plea.
While I was wallowing away in my abandonment, a person picked me up. It was the same almost gentle way that father does. This let me have hope that he was there and when I opened my eyes I was greeted by an inquisitions face of the person whom I just wrongly accused of leaving me. I quickly whimpered out and stopped my crying, and reaching to feel and tug his scruff
My little chubby hand reaching to his face, with my little gurgles and giggles only caused him to smile and hold me closer. He proudly carried me outside where he set me down on the ground away from any ant piles or tallish grass. He set me down by a stacked pile of wood so that he could continue his backbreaking work of clearing the field of unwanted weeds and rocks with me still in his eyesight. Seeing at how my father was working extremely hard for the sake of the future I tried to remember everything I could about farming from my past life. Which wasn’t much because I was more mechanically inclined.
As I saw father pulling up weeds and hoeing the ground, I was inspired to try to create a plough for my hard working father. Unfortunately my mortal enemy was rearing its ugly head one again. I unknowing what my father needs to go through to get a women to feed me will abstain until he has finished his work for the day.
It was one of the most grueling and hard few hours that I have ever gone through. The first hour or so was the best out of the lot, mainly because after that I unfortunately defecated in my only blanket and possession. So I sat in my own filth until father walked away from the small part of the field that I could see was roughly cleared of the debris. I saw him walk toward me with exhaustion in his eyes. I called out to him in my infant voice with a loud shriek and clapped my hands as I laughed. Hoping that it will cause him to be slightly happier which seemed to work when he smiled back at me. But when he reached me and smelled my shame, he unwrapped my blanket so that he could wash the greenish smattering of waste in it. He sighed and walked inside the house with my unclothed self in one arm and the blanket loosely held by in the tips of his fingers in the other.
He set me back down in the crib and quickly washed the cloth in the cauldron. I truly hope that he knows to wash the cauldron before he uses it again. But after a quick wash the rag is placed on a string outside the match box to dry. In a few moments he returned to my side and started to talk to me. It was all gibberish of course, but the foreign language has a lot of hard R sounds and consonance but the words to flow together. I giggled at him every now and then, causing him to smile and try to place his finger back in my mouth so I can chew on it. I rebuff his kindness, because he just used that hand to clean my crap off of my old blanket and hasn’t washed it yet.
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With my rebuff to his gift he started to look sad so, reached up to tug on his brown scruff. He lowered his head allowing me to feel his rough scruff with his ice-blue eyes smiling. Wanting to make him feel better I tried to say my name to him, “Ash-too-rosh!” Which made him go slack jawed. Seeing his one day old son trying to communicate with him. He stares directly at me and points at me and says,” Astaroth?” I nod my head and giggle like the child that I am.
When I finished my laughing fit I touch my hand to my chest and repeated my name and then reached out to him and waited for him to say something. When I saw that he was too dumbfounded to do anything but create a pool of drool on the ground and stare at me in shock, I repeat my action only hoping that he will get over it soon so I can finally figure out what to call him. He points at me and says, “Astaroth.” Then points to himself and says, “Papa.”
With a certain glee in his I grabbed his scruff and screaming as loud and as childishly as I possibly could, “PAPA!” This takes his breath away, he is absolutely flabbergasted. Now all I need to do is learn how to speak his language and I will be able to direct him to make a plough for himself so we can have a bountiful harvest, so that we could get money, so that we could get a bigger house, so that we can get more money, so that we can create our own village, so that we could get more money, so that we could get a barony, so that we could get more money, so that we could get an army, so that we could get more money, so that we could create our own kingdom, so that I can savor only the best of that sweet, sweet, red liquid that gives everybody life. I can’t wait for the time when I will be able to bathe in that most succulent of beverages. It was such a tempting thought that my hunger that I have been repressing since morning came and bit me with a mind numbing return.
I gave a quick screech, regaining Papa’s attention. I give my belie a quick slap and point at my mouth. Understanding quickly dawns on him which he rushes out of the house completely caught up in his new task forgetting me, ironically. I start to feel like I’m unwanted in the wider world with only my father and mother to care for me. Although I have not seen my mother at all she must still be resting from her labor yesterday.
While I was contemplating about how to build the invention that will lead to my ultimate dream, Papa and a woman that I have never seen before came into the room. She kneeled down next to me and unbuttoned her shirt and gave me her breast to drink from. Until now I have only seen five people and most of them women. Which made me think that the village or town that I have been born into is involved in some sort of war or famine or some other circumstance.
This time I was allotted a full belly as well as a gentle pat on the back till I burped. This service was unbearably better than that blood sack that came in the dead of night. Who did not allow me to finish. Satisfied I wanted to get her name so that I could request her from Papa but my baby instincts took over and I was once again put into a deep and restful slumber.
When I once again regained myself I noticed that I was once again alone in my little crib with nobody in the shack with me. So I gave a squeal that would put a pig to shame, father ran back into the shack. I one again repeated my introduction ceremony, and pointed at the cauldron wanting to learn its name. Fortunately my father realized what I was wanted, and told me the words to each of the objects I pointed out.
”Cauldron.”
” Bed.”
“Ground”
“Wall”
“Fire place”
And on and on it went until the entire room’s objects were identified. Even after he left to continue his work on the field I continually repeated the names for the items in the house to remember them and increase my working knowledge of the language of the place I have been reborn to.
When I almost had all of the names fully internalized, he returned covered in sweat and dirt from working in the field with extreme ferocity. He kneeled by my side and started to talk to me. This time he talked slowly and answered all of my one worded questions with a game of charades and other words which I didn’t know any way. Needless to say it was a slow conversation, which at the end of it I once again complained that I was hungry. Father left and brought back the woman from earlier that day whom treated me just gently. She rewrapped me in my blanket.
After I was fed, clothed and returned to my manger, I fell asleep almost instantly, once again not asking or learning the name of my favorite wet nurse so far. I only hoped that tomorrow I will be able to learn more of the place that I was brought back into.