Colours in the Mist, page 10
The music from the festivities flooded my ears. How I hadn’t heard it from further out of the town I didn’t know. It seemed so loud now I was in the centre at the large grassy green, surrounded by trees and benches where people sat and stalls were erected.
I stood, quieting my internal grumbles and just looked for a moment. This time of year was one of the most celebrated, everyone hoping to hear from a lost loved one. But there was no one I wished to hear from. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, or they were making out that they were. I always wonder what bitter things went on in other folk’s hearts, for what went on in mine was truly vicious.
I moved towards my favourite area of the Samhain festival: the apple-bobbing, where around twenty cauldrons were filled with water and apples, surrounded by people dunking their heads, trying to catch an apple in their mouths.
As I approached, I could see Feren watching another boy dunk his head. There was a cruel smile on his lips, suggesting that he didn’t intend to lose this match against whomever was unlucky enough to have challenged him.
Quickening my pace, I weaved in and out of the other revellers to the place where he leaned over the boy in the cauldron, holding him there. I called out to him.
“You know, Feren, it is enough to win. We don’t have to test how long he can hold his breath for.”
Feren looked around and the sheer pleasure he was getting out of holding the boy there was visible in his eyes. I hated how cruel these people I called friends could be, but what was worse was that I knew I wasn’t much better.
“Oh well, where’s the fun in that?” Feren smirked as he released the boy that was no older than fifteen. “Want to challenge me, do you?”
“Aye, I do. You haven’t used that luck spell have you?”
Feren believed he was the only one that knew he spelled himself to win but I had caught him doing it once before a training tournament when we were being taught defensive and attacking spells, and I had teased him ever since.
Trying to maintain his nonchalant appearance, Feren turned and refilled the cauldron with water so that the apples bobbed just under the brim. I saw the flicker of annoyance in his eyes and I relished it.
“Well, what would be the fun in that? But for your knowledge, I don’t use that spell any longer, I am simply better than those around me now,” Feren sniggered.
“We shall see. How about you go first and see how many apples you get in a minute?” I smiled mischievously at him.
I was sure he would have used the spell as he wouldn’t have given up on something that had served him well for so long, but nevertheless, a test to see if he really had could never hurt. Bobbing for apples was always harder than it looked; the apples always seemed to float free just when you thought you would get them.
“What are the stakes?” he smirked. I should have guessed he never would go into something without getting something out of it.
“What do you want?” I asked, but I knew what it would be before he said it. It would be what he always wanted: fame.
“You have to duel me in a tournament and show everyone I am better than you.”
Rolling my eyes, I sighed. In other words, he wanted me to go easy on him to let him win. Although he would never say that.
“Fine.”
Kneeling down by the cauldron, Feren looked up at me. “You don’t know what you’ve let yourself in for.”
“Sure, whatever you say, Fer – just get on with it, will you? Ready, go!”
Feren plunged head first into the cauldron, spilling what seemed like half the water, along with a few apples in the process. He had his hands behind his back to ensure that he didn’t use them to aid himself in any way.
Feren had always been the one to watch when it came to cheating but Emerys and I had got used to having him around when we were younger. As we grew up, Feren’s tricks and sense of superiority got tiresome and we let him know they were wearing thin. We didn’t mean to get so rough with him, but we had and so his mum forbade him to see us other than at full community circles. Now he was a bit older he could hold his own, and I was able to control myself and my powers more to ensure no one got irreversibly hurt. But now he had challenged me, I knew we would be back fighting soon. Maybe sooner than he thought.
Once Feren was done, achieving a good number of four apples out of the cauldron, it was my turn. Plunging my head into the cold water, I fished around for an apple. Apple-bobbing, unless you had help from a spell, was quite difficult. It wasn’t finding the apple that was the hardest bit, it was trying to get your mouth around the thing and to bite into it without having anything to push it against.
Finding an apple, I pushed and clamped my jaw shut around it as best I could but the thing wasn’t having any of it, slipping nimbly out of my mouth. Wary of the time, and at least wanting to get one apple out, I tried again. I repeated this over and over again until by the end of my minute I had two apples out.
“You liar! You have been using that spell!” I shouted. “There is no way you would have been able to get four apples out in that time.” Even though I knew this was just a game, and I had suspected he had used the spell, it infuriated me that he would cheat.
Turning to look at me, he had a disgusted but amused look on his face. “What? Just because you have to show everyone how much better I am than you at the tournament now…” he jeered back, taking a few steps closer. It was as if the atmosphere around us became darker when our tempers flared.
“You heard, you cheating scumbag.” I was losing control of my short-leashed anger, days’ worth of annoyance coming to a head, my dark fury growing.
That was it. No more words were exchanged, and before I realised what was happening, Feren charged at me and tackled, slamming his shoulder into my stomach and lifting me off the ground.
I reined in my anger the best I could, but the release of the pent-up frustration that I had tried to conceal was addictive. As we tackled and hit one another, we were drawing such a crowd, and pushing their way through from the back were Mum, Emerys and Lorian.
As they got to the front, I could see the death stare Mum was giving me; I had truly messed up this time. Even though everyone was sour and cold-hearted in Sòlas, fighting was still frowned upon – and fighting at a festival was a disgrace. I could also see the embarrassment that Mum was feeling as it was her son involved in such a disruption of the festivities.
Emerys, on the other hand, was trying to fight back laughter. He was straining to keep his face serious, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. Lorian looked terrified, as though she had never seen anyone get in a scuffle before. But there was something else in her eyes that I could not place; an expression that I had never seen her wear before. Disappointment, if I had to take a guess. I knew I shouldn’t care, but my stomach lurched at the thought. I reminded myself that she was nothing to me. I had to ensure that she realised this. I didn’t know what stupid feelings I had been harbouring over the last day or so but they were sure to not last.
Standing, I gave Feren one last shove. I had a cut lip and what would be a swollen black eye, but I fared better than him. He had broken his nose and most likely his wrist, and what was more disturbing was that I felt nothing for what I had just done – no guilt or anger, only annoyance. I could not control the fury’s power that burned so close to the surface.
As I looked up, Mum was coming towards us. However, instead of walking over to me, she walked past me and over to Feren, assessing the damage to his wrist and nose.
“Go home, Maverick. You have already had enough of the festivities. Only come back for the circle later tonight.” She spoke in a low growl over her shoulder.
I had never missed a festival before, so I knew I had really messed up this time. Mum continued talking but I couldn’t respond, the shock consumed me. I knew I had never got into a fight at a festival but I had been in many fights before this. I didn’t think Mum would make me miss Samhain.
“You are lucky the circle tonight is about new beginnings, because you’d better hope the consequences of this don’t get more serious.” She glowered at me. “Go now, tend to your own wounds for your stupid actions.” She dismissed me with a turn of her head.
Walking towards Emerys and Lorian, I spoke directly to Emerys. “I will be back for the circle tonight but don’t bother keeping me a place – I will find somewhere else to stand.”
I was annoyed. If it hadn’t been for my feelings and Feren and his stupid cheating, I wouldn’t have done what I did. I would have been fine. Well, maybe I would have done it but not on a festival day – I would have waited until afterwards.
As I made my way home, my face was starting to sting as the scabs that had formed over the burns pulled away. I had almost forgotten that they covered my face. I knew I was going to look like a mess with a black eye and cut lip to accompany them.
Lorian
Emerys, Neave and myself wove ourselves back into the festival from where Maverick had been fighting. Shaking the nervousness the fight had left in my stomach, I distracted myself with the scene around me. There were decorations everywhere – although there were no colours, I could imagine what they would have been like at this time of year: all the blazing oranges and reds accompanied by lush earthy tones. A cool autumn breeze brushed past me, awakening my senses. Pumpkins both carved and uncarved were strewn around in what seemed to be a haphazard way but I quickly realised that they were placed to guide people to the different stalls and activities on the green.
There were what seemed like hundreds of people bustling about, more than I had thought this little town contained. Many were making small talk or buying products from various stall vendors. The stall wares ranged widely from what seemed to be apples covered in a shiny liquid, to some sort of pie, but I had to ask Emerys what was covering the apples as I couldn’t quite place the smell. It was spicy sweet and oh so delicious, making my mouth water. There were also other products that seemed out of place, but they were probably part of the evening’s celebrations: necklaces, stones, lace and silk garments.
My awestruck face must have betrayed me as Emerys turned to me with a large grin on his face. “Quite the sight, isn’t it? Do you have festivals like this where you’re from?”
“N—no,” I stammered.
For once it wasn’t my nerves causing me to stammer but the beautiful scene on the green that lay before me. How could a people supposedly so cruel create and organise something like this? Maybe deep down they weren’t truly awful, I pondered.
“We had more garden parties of sorts, but they always seemed more formal with games such as croquet and badminton. Or we would have people over in the evenings for drinks and canapés.”
“What?” Emerys asked, looking at me quizzically.
I racked my brain for the best way to describe the evenings my stepfather and mother, and later my uncle, would put on. “Well, the garden parties often included small sandwiches, tea and lemonade, and then everyone would watch the games and converse. The evening parties were more formal, where people would come over and talk, sometimes about business, which was mostly the men. Or gossip, which mostly the women took part in, as well as standing around, showing off their clothes. Or at least that was how it was in my household.”
“Sounds rather boring.”
Emerys’ attention was wavering as he looked around the stalls to find something more interesting. Not wanting to stop the easy conversation that I so rarely made, I quickly changed the subject to what was drawing his eye. “It is so beautiful, don’t you think? What is this festival for? I can almost see all the colours.”
As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them. What an idiotic thing to say to someone who has never seen colour. I doubt he would have even known what a specific colour would be called. However, the reaction Emerys gave me was totally unexpected – his face was full of surprise and wonder.
“Well, this festival is to celebrate our ancestors. It is also a time when the veil between the two worlds: our world and the afterlife, is at its thinnest. So, this is a time when our ancestors and other spirits can walk among us again. You always have to be careful about malevolent spirits. You know the offering on the doorsteps you saw?”
I nod, I had seen the small tokens on the doorsteps but hadn’t understood their importance
“Well, they are to keep the malevolent spirits at bay. If you do not put them out, they will come and cause havoc in your household. Anyway, can you tell me what are colours are like? What does it feel like to see them?”
I hadn’t ever really thought about how I would describe colours to someone, or how they made me feel. And I hadn’t ever thought that the colours I saw every day might no longer be there. “Well, umm…” I stumbled, trying to come up with the best way to explain colours to someone who had never experienced them before. Luckily, I was saved from the trouble when a young boy of roughly eight years of age came running up to us.
“Emerys!” he shouted, skidding to a stop in front of us, “Mum says you have to look after me as she has some things to do.”
Sighing, Emerys bent down in front of what appeared to be his younger brother, ruffling the small boy’s hair. “Gwilym, you have to behave if you are with me, okay?” Emerys looked up at me. “This is Lorian, and Lorian – this is Gwilym. He is my younger half-brother.”
“Nice to meet you, Gwilym,” I responded with a smile.
“What is wrong with her eyes? They aren’t like ours. Also, I want a toffee apple. Let’s get a toffee apple,” he said in one quick blur of speech.
Tugging on Emerys’ hand, Gwilym led us over to the stall with apples covered in the sweet-smelling substance that had caught my nose earlier. I was still contemplating what the young boy had said about my eyes as we approached. What could be wrong with my eyes? But I couldn’t focus on that now, so putting the thought aside, I followed Emerys and Gwilym, standing a short distance away from where they huddled around the stall.
I watched as people made their way closer; they were pushing and shoving one another to get to the front, the complete opposite to the stores Mother would drag me to. No one seemed to have any regard for those around them, they just thought of themselves and what they wanted. Even Emerys pushed his way to the front without a care for those that had been there longer than him. He even nearly knocked someone to the floor.
Shaking myself, I turned my gaze to the small stall. It was wooden and had a small, checked-cloth roof. There were two pots on it, one full of apples and the other full of the deliciously sweet-smelling liquid that caused my stomach to rumble. This pot was placed over a small flame, keeping it soft. The vendor completed his ritual to create the sweet treats, first sticking the apple on a thin cylindrical stick and then dunking it in the clear liquid. He would then twist the apple carefully to break the runny stream, not wasting a drop. The vendor would then allow the apple to stand and the liquid to harden before giving them to his patrons. The delicious smell of the sweet alluring spiced sugar wafted closer, drawing me to the stall.
“If only I had some money,” I said wistfully to myself as I gazed upon one individual trying as hard as they could to get through the crystallised outer shell.
“No need!” Emerys’ voice made me jump as he had returned with his young brother. Gwilym was chomping happily on his apple, covering his lips and cheeks in the sticky residue. He must have teeth of stone to make it through the tough shell, I thought, smiling to myself.
Looking back to Emerys, I realised he had two shiny coated apples in his hands. “Here,” he said, handing me one. “But I wouldn’t leave it too long, the toffee gets too hard,” he chuckled.
“Toffee?” I asked in puzzlement, taking the apple.
“Yes, that’s what it is covered in. What did you think it was?” he asked, taking a large bite.
“Just some sort of syrup.” Poking the toffee, I could feel it hardening in places already.
“Ah no, it’s toffee and you’d best eat it quickly, or you will be like that poor man over there, nearly breaking his teeth to eat it.”
Ah, that was the key. Eat quickly.
I thanked him quickly, taking the apple. Looking back over at Gwilym, I realised something I had missed before. The young boy’s hair was a sandy blonde colour and he had a faint scattering of brown freckles covering his nose.
Curious, I wondered why I would see colour on one individual and not another? I thought I had seen colour a few times in the last day but only very pale hints and I was certain that they were a mind trick. But here it was as plain as the toffee on the apple that young Gwilym’s hair was a sandy blonde.
Turning to Emerys, I asked him if he saw anything different about his brother’s hair and freckles, for surely he would know if there was something different about someone he saw each day?
“What do you mean? His hair has always been that colour. And he always had paler freckles on his nose than the other kids.”
Emerys looked at me in puzzlement as we strolled over to a patch of grass in between the trees. Gwilym was wandering around nearby, talking to a few people and munching on his toffee apple, not caring where we were or if he’d wandered too far. After seeing his sandy hair and light freckles a small bloom of hope blossomed. At that moment I knew how I could explain colour to Emerys, or at least I thought I could.
Settling on the ground, my legs tucked beside me, I looked at the tree above. A light rustling passed through its branches and you could hear the faint ringing of small bells that hung from the nearby trees in decoration. It was a big maple tree, the leaves all different shades of grey. I couldn’t get over seeing everything in greyscale; I had to really look to see the difference within the tones, at how the veins shaded the leaf differently to the one next to it.
After we sat down, I noticed Emerys’ eyes searching through the crowds frantically.
“Do you mind watching Gwilym for a while? I won’t be long. The festival starts soon but I just need to check something before it does? And I did get you a toffee apple, so you owe me.”
