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Hercu [Steampunk & Magic]
Chapter 20: Parent’s Peculiar Power

Chapter 20: Parent’s Peculiar Power

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Chapter 20: Parent’s Peculiar Power

A boy ran to me.“Hey, Alva! I’ve got a delivery for your mother. My Dad said it’s really important, so be careful not to drop it.” His brown curly hair flailed in the wind. His broad smile infected me instantly, even though I had never seen him before.

He stopped abruptly before me. “Here.” He took my hand and placed a small package into my palm.

“Long time no see. I’m glad you’re back! Do you wanna hang out again tomorrow? I’ve found a new place to climb.” The boy beamed at me.

Words stuck in my throat. Unwilling to come out. Why did this stranger pretend to know me? Or is he one of the many I have forgotten?

I nodded helplessly.

“Hah, great. Then we’ll meet at our usual place after dinner tomorrow!” And with that, he already ran away again.

“But I don’t even know where . . .”

He was already too far gone to hear me.

I continued my way home while unwrapping the package. The broad dirt road has become more familiar by now. Neighbors also greeted me by name, but I didn’t know theirs. I just smiled politely and kept walking. While most worked on their farms, harvesting weed or feeding their pigs and cows, some did laundry or prepared food. The old wooden buildings had endured a lot. Every time a salt rain poured down, the men gathered and fixed the holes, on bad days, even whole buildings.

I finally unraveled the cord of the package and unfolded it open. A bracelet with purple pearls lay inside a small glass casket.

“Beautiful.”

The color reflected the suns’ light like water. Specks of different purple shades danced around, jumping from pearl to pearl. It felt magical. I put it on, put the glass casket in my dress pocket, and continued walking with a big grin on my face. Mum would be happy to see me with her bracelet as a surprise.

As I was about to open the front door, something inside the house got knocked over.

“So I was right after all? You’re into this crafting peasant?!” The man, whom I had been told was my father, yelled.

I sneaked inside, hid in the corridor before the living room, and peeked inside.

“So you go on that again, huh? I found the beads, so I can do whatever I want with them!” Mum, the only one I remembered, yelled. Her long black hair fluttered in anger as she turned her head while arguing.

“Do you even understand their worth?!” Dad flailed his arms. “We’re probably the first lucky humans to travel Under The Dawn Sea!” Dad snapped his arm back, pointing at the big map behind him. It covered most of the wall, with many sketches, writings, and labels scribbled onto it.

“So what about it?! They’re precious to me as well, so I thought of wearing them and—”

“And give them away?!” Dad yelled. “He could have taken them over the mountains by now! Bathing in gold and jewels.”

“What bullshit! This village is my family! I trust them!” Mum stepped up, pushing a chair away and to the floor.

“Then what am I to you, huh? Am I not family?” Dad’s voice faltered. “Why don’t you trust me?”

Mum clicked her tongue. “I didn’t mean it like this, and you know that! Stop this nonsense. Alva will come back home soon. I don’t want her to hear—”

“Yes! I know. Everything’s more important than me. As always . . .” The words broke apart.

Mum approached him. “Darling—”

“No!” He pushed her. “Get off me!”

A deep pain ran across my heart.

Mum clenched her fists. “Enough!” Her hair stood on ends. “I’m sick of nurturing our blatant fantasies! I’m not cheating on you; I care about our discovery!” She slammed her fist against the wall, shaking it.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“I’ll tell you what something!” she hissed. “What bothers me—what keeps me up all night, but I can’t just bring myself to confront it. What I’m too scared of to hear the truth . . . I just wished it was a dream. A mistake from me! That I had misunderstood . . .”

“What—what are you talking about?” Dad’s eyes widened in foreseen horror. His wrinkles could no longer hide behind the fading black in his hair.

“I saw it, Al. I saw how you injected our little baby girl with it. It’s the green liquid you’ve been experimenting with, isn’t it?” She sniffled. “Is that why she hardly remembers anything? Are you destroying her memories with it?” Mum broke out in tears.

“I—I hadn’t planned for such a strong effect . . . I just . . . her trauma was so great. I had to do something!”

“But! How is erasing her memories doing anything good?!” Mum screamed with cramped fingers, nails digging into her palms.

“She doesn’t even remember my father. Do you listen?! She doesn’t remember her grandfather! And she will never have the chance to make new memories. You! You stole that from her!” Blood dripped from Mum’s hands.

The air shifted. A chill ran over my skin like millions of crumbs.

“Honey—I’m sorry . . . I just wanted . . .” Dad shivered.

“I can’t believe it . . . she’s only six years old . . .” Mom fell to her knees.

I couldn’t move a finger. I was too scared to come near them. As much as I felt the need to hug her, I couldn’t bring myself to it. I fiddled with the bracelet, the only spark of support I had right now.

“I’ll fix her, honey. I promise to make things right again, and then—”

“Shut up!” Mum screamed, the words falling apart. “You won’t touch her! Ever again!”

Her voice went through me like a shockwave. Warmth trickled through my nose. I rubbed it with my hand and felt blood. In between the red swam tiny green bubbles. It often occurred in the last weeks, and then more memories faded. Even my name I forgot dozens of times.

But no matter how often, Mum always pulled me into a deep hug and whispered my name. We’d start crying, and I felt sad but not alone. She was there for me.

So why couldn’t I go to her right now and do the same for her? Was I afraid of Dad? That he would pull me into the basement again? Or was I afraid that my tiny arms wouldn’t suffice to retrieve the comfort like Mum?

What would happen if I stepped into the room? Would they yell at me too? Dad would freak out, and Mum would get even sadder.

Now, how come I wasn’t sad? Because I barely knew those people who claimed to be my parents? If I just didn’t exist . . . if they didn’t remember me . . . would that solve everything? If I’m not sad because I don’t remember them, then if they don’t remember me . . . they will stop fighting if I disappear, right?

“They’re better off without me.”

Careful to stay quiet, I sneaked outside again.

The further I ran away from the house, my supposed home, the heavier my legs became. I staggered through the streets, ignoring the stares of our ‘neighbors’ that I didn’t even know.

Before I knew it, the dirt road that had turned to cobblestone blurred away under my feet, and a salty taste entered my dry mouth. My legs became heavier than lead. They wouldn't take another step, no matter how much I begged them. And so, at the end of the village, I fell against a tree. Below me bloomed the bright green grass, soft to the touch.

“‘Promise me. You can't leave the village alone, okay, sweetheart?’” Mum’s lovely voice echoed in my mind.

“If only Dad would disappear . . . then I wouldn't have to . . . and could continue to play with Mum and listen to her stories and adventures.

“Exactly . . . why should I go when it's not me but Dad that's the problem?”

The tree bark pressed against my head, but I didn't care. All I wanted to feel were the tears on my cheeks, hands, and knees.

Of course, I had seen many other children crying. It always looked terrible, as if they were torturing themselves. But I didn't realize how liberating it felt.

For the first time since I could remember, I cried. And I cried. I cried my heart out as memories scratched the surface of my head, but only a few came through.

Images of picnics in wide pastures, boat rides, and cuddles with my parents fluttered before my inner eyes. My dress couldn’t bear so many tears and snot.

I didn't want to cry anymore, but my head hurt so much that I couldn't stop. Shuffling sobs burst out of me as I breathed heavily.

I hugged my knees. Very tightly. And I imagined that Mum would hug me and whisper my name softly in my ear.

“‘Alva.’”

I fiddled with Mum’s bracelet, holding onto it like it was Mum’s hand.

When my tears were finally empty and my head was throbbing less, the suns were setting. A salty breeze passed over the dark grass with orange-soaked patches while a shallow sea of clouds floated in the sky. The cool air brushed over my warm skin like comfy cotton.

“I don't want to leave . . .” I sniffled. “I want to stay by Mum’s side. Eventually, Mom and Dad will get along, right?”

Sluggishly, I dragged myself back. My knees hurt, the neighbors eyed me worried and asked what happened, and something in my chest hurt. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to go home.

I knocked purposefully against the door and tried my best to smile. “Mum! Dad! I’m back!”

I pushed the door open and went to the living room without hesitation. “Sorry that it took so long. But you know what, I really missed you two . . . let’s—”

No one was there. No one argued. The chairs were all overturned, and the dining table was broken in the middle. The large map on the wall that Dad was so proud of was torn down.

“Mum?!” I ran into the bedroom. Then to the bathroom. I even dared to look in the basement. The metal door creaked open to reveal Dad’s little lab in ruins.

I went back upstairs and searched again. Calling out for my parents, searching under the beds, in the closets, and in the garden on the backside.

No one was home. All that remained was a big mess.

I was all alone.