Resilience

‘I always used to think that when I died, I would leave behind something meaningful, something that encompassed more than just me. Now staring down death, I don’t know what I expected to feel, but empty, that was never on the list.’

Kato stared out of the wagon, thump, thump, thump. The gentle rocks of the wagon’s bed might have sounded comforting to others, but to him it was different. He knew what it meant. Thump, thump, thump. It wasn’t gentle rocking, but the slow endless beating of death’s heart, dragging them away all too soon.

‘Then again, when was death ever timely?’ He laughed, the sound bitter and hollow.

‘When did I become so jaded?’ Kato stared forward, motionless. Mindlessly he challenged a knot on the far wall to a staring contest. This was rapidly becoming a favourite pastime of his, another moment of routine added to a day full of them. But that’s what happens when you never move. He sighed and broke away.

Another win for the twisted knot, another loss for the twisted man.

The low scrunched body of the poker lay beside him, unmoving, the pungent stench of old alcohol hung thick in the air.

She had stopped moving yesterday and hadn’t stirred since, her already faint breathing had, over time, become near imperceptible. Whether it be minutes or hours, Kato knew she didn’t have long, and what had the blursons expected.

They hadn’t eaten since they’d gotten here and for a small creature like her, that was a death sentence, Kato had tried again and again to get their attention, screaming deep into the night till his throat bled, but nothing worked, and no one cared.

They were trapped.

Languishing in a cell.

Waiting for the great redeemer to take them away.

His fingers absently picked away at the now desiccated, yellow stain, that had been a drink just days before. Kato glowered at the blemish that marred the rough wooden floor.

“I’m not like you” he whispered, eyes flitting from side to side, “they won’t break me, change me, make me something I'm not.” He looked up, the knot looked back.

He stayed for a moment, until the sound of particularly obnoxious laughter in the distance trickled to his ears.

Kato trembled, rage flooding through him. ‘They dare?’ His heart pounded, demanding violence, and Kato agreed. He lashed out at the bars, slamming his fists against them again and again till they rattled as violently as he did. He hissed out forcing air through his clenched teeth.

His heart quieted, his mind zoning in.

‘What just happened?’

He regarded the still trembling bars.

They hadn’t done that before.

He reached forward, the movement sudden and erratic, he hadn’t had a real purpose in days. His dry stiff hands wrapped around a bar with an audible crack, his tired bones fighting against the motion, but he refused to acknowledge them.

He gripped tight, tighter than perhaps he ever had and levered himself against the bar... and nothing, it refused to move. The previous movements caused by his frenzied assault now called into question. ‘Were they really tangible or just the phantoms of a tired mind?’

Kato stumbled back, his hands slipping, from the bar as muscular failure, or his own doubts, pushed him down.

He collapsed, spent, on the dry, damaged floor, his gaze fixed upwards, unblinking. A tear threatened to spill, but the sharp sting in his eyes was a painful reminder that had no moisture to spare.

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The knot looked down at him from the wall, it sat there, twisted and grotesque. Confident in its place and his.

The singular eye at its centre, sprung forward, its from mutating as its body angled towards him, silently, mocking him.

“Look at me “it whispered, the words creeping into his skull.

Kato looked at it.

Then it spoke, the harsh mocking voice Kato had expected, replaced by a gentle voice carved from the pain of time. “The pressure, it broke me” the voice coughed out. “I fought against it for as long as I could but-”

Kato looked away his eyes glazing over as he fought against the heavy urge to give up, give in, surrender to the darkness.

“LOOK AT ME!” The voice boomed.

Dazed, he propped himself up one last time, the knot stared back at him. “It reshaped me, ruined me, turned me into something I'm not-”

Kato’s head tilted downward, his neck barely supporting the mounting weight of his head.

“LISTEN TO ME” It roared again. “Will you let it do the same to you? Or will you fight? If not for yourself, then for me, for who I was.”

Kato’s resolve sparked anew, his body creaking as he rose from what should’ve been his grave. The talking wood had a good point, and he wouldn’t spurn good advice just because it pushed him one step closer off the ledge that was his sanity.

He couldn’t give up now even if it was just to satisfy the dying wish from hallucinations caused by the last throes of a beaten mind.

He reached forward, hands clasping the bars tightly.

A sharp pain erupted in his right hand, blood spurting from a lone splinter sticking out of it, his eyes traced it momentarily. Not quite understanding what was happening.

‘Huh’ his bedraggled mind thought. His left hand subconsciously unhooking and poking the wound.

More blood flowed the pressure forcing it forward.

Kato stared, entranced.

“Uhh” he slumped to the side.

“This is not how you die” the knot whispered its voice insidious and pervasive, spreading through him, compelling him to act.

But Kato was done, he had no more to give, his shoulders dropped suddenly, his free hand swinging down limply, jarring his body around the pole he still gripped.

“We will prevail” a different voice whispered. An all too familiar voice.

Kato shot upright, alert, a sudden influx of energy rushing into his body, sparking his nerves and igniting his limbs, forcing him into action.

His left hand rose, climbing altitude rapidly before returning to its companion’s side, gripping the bar firmly.

Kato pulled.

Blood erupted from his torn hand, the blursons yellow stain covered by his blood-red. The splinter stuck deeper, and deeper, red frothing liquid coated his hand. Kato didn’t care, he had come too far… far, too far to be beaten now.

Kato pulled.

His teeth chattered and his arms trembled, uncontrollably pivoting back and forth around rigid elbows.

Kato pulled.

He leaned back, pushing against the very world it was him, and just him versus an immovable object.

But he, he was an unstoppable force.

With one final heave, Kato fell back arms flaying the air by his side. Two aged wooden bars, thrashing backward with him.

One slicked with dust and the other born in blood.

With a dull thud and squelch, they met the ground, before rolling away.

Panting, Kato lay back, his chest rising and falling to an unnatural rhythm. His hands unclenching and clenching again and again.

He was free.

The bars rolled into the wall thump, THUD, thump THUD, thump. The relentless beating march of death’s heart interrupted.

Kato sat up, he looked at his right hand it was gory mess, but it was a small price to pay. He flicked the splinter sticking out of it and it went flying to the side, an inch long little spear of bad memories.

He looked over to the poker lying on the ground. It hadn’t even made a sound. Tentatively Kato reached over a finger gently pressing against its jugular. He paused for a second, he paused for another, then another… He kept pressing thump, a tiny thumb pushed against him, raising his hand slightly.

Kato’s blood curdled, his features twisting into a more grotesque visage than that of the broken knots.

Kato stood, pushing his feet against the ground, the wagon creaked under him with a defeated groan.

A cold shiver ran up Kato’s spine, as a sudden gale of wind pushed back against him, the world’s last effort to keep him down.

But it did little more than ruffle his hair. His long pitch-black locks, gently buffeting against his skin in the light breeze, momentarily blinding him.

‘Too little too late’ Kato thought mockingly, as he completed his ascent, his eyes drawing level with the knot his delirious mind had momentarily possessed to drive him forward.

He regarded the gnarled piece of wood jutting from the wall, his eyes locking it down, one final staring challenge for the road.

It looked back at him.

‘Should I apologise?’ Kato questioned himself, they had been each other’s only real companion since the poker had fallen ill and now Kato was leaving it here, by itself.

‘I know it’s just wood, but-’ Kato’s mind trailed off, as he took a closer look at his one-time muse.

Its sardonic expression had at some point shifted to one of pride, “show them hell” it whispered, “make your pain their own.”

Kato nodded towards it.

The poker was nearly dead.

So was he.

But he would show them how much difference one word made.

‘Nearly.’