4.9.1.14.1

The weekly ceremony was over and everyone had left the temple. Seated on a bench, Jany had wanted to be alone for a moment. To anyone who would have cared to look, her face fully revealed the dark nature of her thoughts.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Alberta had glanced her way and the concern had spread to her own face.

“Well, Mama… You know… Today…” Jany pussyfooted and asked herself how, of all the town women, Alberta could actually be clueless to the cause of her unease.

“What? Tell me. My baby can’t walk around stressed out that way. Speak to your Mama.” She took Jany’s hand and stroke her daughter gently. She truly was confused, apparently.

“That… stuff nobody s’pposed to talk about…” Jany’s eyes seemed lost, embarrassed really. She was not sure what to expect from her mother after she had uttered those words and the response came at breakneck speed. Alberta dropped her hand as though she had just remembered that Jany was a vector for the worst type of plague.

“Oh!” She looked around nervously. “Well… you better learn to deal, then.” The honey that had flowed from her words and her touch, just a moment before, had evaporated and turned to broken glass. Any trace of motherhood had faded.

Ten years had passed and the burden forced upon Jany—and the others—had not become any less heavy for the young woman. A consensus had been reached among the Elders and everyone was expected to honor and obey any and all request that came from them. After all, they held the Sacred Knowledge and stood as a fortress between everyone and doom. They had ruled that what belonged to the past was to stay there under penalty of death. What they refused to say clearly was that all matters related to the person and the event that tormented Jany were to be concealed under layers of hushed darkness and suppressed fear. Dee’s… or rather 4.9.1.14.1’s name was relegated to the trashcan of the town people’s records. Jany’s use of that number—when the context was vague enough—had been the only workaround tolerated by the Elders to allow her to nurse her own sorrow.

Today, however, that was not enough and the heartache was unbearable. Everyone should have woken up eager to speak her name and celebrate her “solar return” as she would often say. The day should have been one of revelry and honor. She would have been twenty four; but rather than enjoy her youth, she had been harvested on the same day she was supposed to be celebrated. She had only been fourteen and Jany twelve. Now, even Alberta, Dee’s own mother, had more concern for her personal safety and comfort than for her dead daughter’s memory. That was just extra shame added to the load Jany already found too extreme to carry alone.

“Mama… we can’t go on that way.” Jany croaked. She was on the verge of tears.

Alberta lowered her head and spoke half-muted words near her daughter’s ear.

“Baby gurl… You sad. That makes sense. But why you so worked up? Dunno what got to you. Dunno what your plans be. But trust, my ass gon’ be around a few more years. You hear me! Them Elders don’t play.” Jany’s shock was unconcealable. Where had the soft mother gone? Who was that harpy?

“Mama… Are you just gon’ pretend forever? How can…”

“Shhh… You better get your good sense back!” Her murmurs became more adjacent to threats than counsel. “One fun fact ‘bout me, my head always stays on the goal. Oxygen all up and through my lungs, for one more day. THAT’s the plan! Every. Goddamn. Day. You hear?”

Jany shook her head yes, eyes full of tears. What could she say anyway that would leave her mother pleased and hopeful? Better to save her words and comply.

Flustered and eager to put a cap on that exchange, Alberta looked around once more. She unclenched her jaw, relaxed her back and patted her daughter on the shoulder to try and reverse course.

“You know Mama loves you, baby… Huh?” The sharpness of her tongue had lost some edge. “You and me… we the only ones left.” Jany’s gaze was on the floor; same as her mood. Alberta placed both hands on her daughter’s teary face and squatted to meet her eyes. “We both gotta stay and see another day; and another day; and another; and one more after that. Okay?” The honey that had once coated her throat was back.

“Yes, Mama. We gon’ be good.” Jany answered sans an ounce of assuredness to mask her hopelessness; but that was enough for Alberta.

After so many years, Jany had hoped that the Elders and the town folk would have softened and perhaps been able to move on and accept what they had done. She thought they would acknowledge that 4.9.1.14.1 had been more than a holy—although coerced—present shoved onto the altar of whatever god they purported was after young flesh. A couple of years or so from now, per the deal the Elders had made, the town folk would snatch another one, aged twelve to seventeen and present her to the same ruthless and hungry gods. That would guarantee peace and wonderful harvests for twelve to seventeen more years. But what about the loved ones? What of the crushed souls and forever damaged hearts? Corn, potatoes and meat could never heal those deep wounds. Jany knew that the next teenager would become just another name to ban and threaten the rest of them over. She could not understand why the Elders also felt the need to take the dead’s memory too. Was the flesh not enough?

What Jany clearly overlooked was the tremendous power of shame and self-reproach. The Elders wanted to freely gorge on the crops, suck the bones off of pork chops, and not be haunted by the faces of those they had bound on tree stumps for monsters to feed on as payment for the feast. They demanded by law that everyone forget that Dee only had the forest to cover her calls for help and mercy. Later, that forgetfulness would allow them to do the same, all over, whenever the monsters got hungry and started to roam too close to the town.

Unacceptable.

The cost of death should not be the abyss of namelessness. Jany would respect the law but she would not allow anyone to forget Dee’s name today. She went home, tore off pages from a notebook and wrote the same message over and over.

Face soaked by tears, she went to work. She ran through the town and snuck some of the pages under doors, plastered others on the temple square for all to see. Then she sat on the ground… at the entrance of the temple, ready for all the consequences the Elders would unleash on her. Her message read:

8.5.18 - 14.1.13.5 - 23.1.19 - 4.9.1.14.1

1.14.4 - 18.8.5 - 23.1.19 - 13.25 - 19.9.19.20.5.18

.

.

.

NOTE 1:

Vocal Peeps, y’all were hard on us, here! That challenge really was… a challenge but also great to try a hand at.

.

NOTE 2:

Dear reader, you enjoyed that story? You may also want to read that one: