“Tilda . . .” the feminine voice was small but stroked inward as if words ripped at breath on a swallowed exhale. ”Tilda, where are you? I can’t see you.” the abyss was dark and cold and asleep within the rot hole of a dying oak. ”Tiiilllldddaaaaa, wakey, wakey . . .” Four quick paced scratches stirred somewhere beyond and echoed down the long and distant atmosphere. ”Ah, there you are. I can hear you.” Two more scratches answered back. “Can you spin me a web, Tilda? I need you to do this . . . this one more favor. Yes. One more. One more favor. the voice grew excited. But there was no scratching-response this time. ”Tilda, there’s a second body too. I saw two of them. Two celestials are here together! They were resting here by my trunk. We can both have a body. We can both be free . . . ” Silence. “Tilda, come on. You know I will send my vines in after you.” Moments later there was shuffling in par with scratching and out of the pitch stepped two sharp and jagged legs of brown sparsed hairs. But that was it. The legs scratched inward twice, curling as if they were pulling in a kill to the hole’s mouth. Slowly, a string of vines snaked up beneath the spider’s legs. The old oak had successfully summoned her parasite.
“What are you chirping about, Me’luk.” Tilda’s whisper was honed thin, but deep and broken like an ill tuned cello. “I will not eat any more children. I will not drink any more virgins-blood. I will no longer spin you webs for curses you cannot control. We are finished. This is it, this is what we’ve become. This is forever.” Her legs began to curl back into the shadows. “Make ready your roots, Me’luk. You’re beginning to shrivel.”
“Tilda, don’t go.” Me’luk’s vines rattled. “One, one is an angel…” she lured in that last bit. Tilda’s legs extended out of the shadows a bit more. “Yesss, an angel. Don’t . . . don’t you miss your wingssss, Tilda?”
“And the other?”
“Just a wolf – a werewolf.” Me’luck, lied. “I’ve always wanted to be a werewolf. And when you get your wingssss back, Tilda – we can finish what we started.”
“You have things?” Tilda caved. “Personal things?” Quickly, the vine scuffled away with scattering taps as it drug its dying leaves away. Moments later it returned, gripping a feather. Tilda quickly stabbed it with her longest leg and curled it to her where she sniffed at it. “You’re right. An angel. Penelope. Fallen, but still, an angel none the less…” The vine retreated again. Moments later, it returned with tuffs of thick black shedding.” Tilda was quick to collect the fur and she repeated the notion, sniffing it. There was a long pause. The vines began to snake towards the spiders’ legs, but she smacked at them.
“Tildaaa, what do you smell? Tilda, what are you doing? Will you spin us a web?” Me’luck’s branches rustled against a breeze above and her trunk creaked and croaked impatiently.
“You be careful with that wolf’s body.” Tilda warned deeply. “Darius is not just a wolf. He’s much more… than he seems” She pondered, her legs itching at one another. “What say we trade? I’ll take the wolf, and you the angel?”
“No. No, no, no, no, no! I found the things! I get to choose. I want to be a wolf next.” Me’luck’s dried and brittle branches began to stir and rattle.
“Very well.” Tilda allowed. “This will take some time. They are more powerful than the others. Before we can inhabit their bodies, we must first trap their conscious through their dreams. I will spin a web. Ready your nightmares, Me’luck.”
“Laus erit nobis magicae.” Me’luck chanted.
”Et conteram ait, ista maledictio.” Tilda chided before she slipped back into the rot hole, taking with her – the personal things Me’luck had collected. She’d craft a dreamcatcher and together, the spider and oak would invade dreams and bring about the wolf and angel’s deepest fears. To break them – to destroy them – to hijack and become them . . .
- -
The hammock on her porch cramped him slightly – but he needed the fresh air. Darius woke, only briefly before surrendering back to his dreams. Something tugged at him, back to sleep. He saw Penelope there, as he sank below into the depths of his mind – sitting there on the porch next to him. what am I doing here? He’d remembered the day prior – when he’d shifted into his wolf form and inspired Penelope to use her wings, her gift. That’s right. He remembered. He was staying with her, until she felt comfortable to be on her own again. Slowly, he sat up from the hammock and rubbed at his temples. But, as he did he realixed his hands were not hands at all. They were paws He panicked slightly and tumbled down out of the hammock. I am still . . . in my wolf form? He glanced down at himself and tried to recall his light to shift back to human. But he couldn’t. Glancing up at the overcast – something felt strange. Something was happening. It was blackening and rumbling, but absent of nature’s storms. He glanced at Penelope – she was just sitting there, staring wide-eyed into the distance. Quickly he pattered over to her and nudged her with his muzzle. ”Penelope, Penelope, love – wake up. Wake up, something is happening. He tried to reach her thoughts. He didn’t feel like he was . . . in the right place. What is going on? Everything was still there. Her house, the woods . . . but it all felt so different, darker. And then he knew, they were under a curse. He needed to wake her up. They needed to, Get. Out! “Penelope! WAKE UP.”
“Tilda . . .” the feminine voice was small but stroked inward as if words ripped at breath on a swallowed exhale. ”Tilda, where are you? I can’t see you.” the abyss was dark and cold and asleep within the rot hole of a dying oak. ”Tiiilllldddaaaaa, wakey, wakey . . .” Four quick paced scratches stirred somewhere beyond and echoed down the long and distant atmosphere. ”Ah, there you are. I can hear you.” Two more scratches answered back. “Can you spin me a web, Tilda? I need you to do this . . . this one more favor. Yes. One more. One more favor. the voice grew excited. But there was no scratching-response this time. ”Tilda, there’s a second body too. I saw two of them. Two celestials are here together! They were resting here by my trunk. We can both have a body. We can both be free . . . ” Silence. “Tilda, come on. You know I will send my vines in after you.” Moments later there was shuffling in par with scratching and out of the pitch stepped two sharp and jagged legs of brown sparsed hairs. But that was it. The legs scratched inward twice, curling as if they were pulling in a kill to the hole’s mouth. Slowly, a string of vines snaked up beneath the spider’s legs. The old oak had successfully summoned her parasite.
“What are you chirping about, Me’luk.” Tilda’s whisper was honed thin, but deep and broken like an ill tuned cello. “I will not eat any more children. I will not drink any more virgins-blood. I will no longer spin you webs for curses you cannot control. We are finished. This is it, this is what we’ve become. This is forever.” Her legs began to curl back into the shadows. “Make ready your roots, Me’luk. You’re beginning to shrivel.”
“Tilda, don’t go.” Me’luk’s vines rattled. “One, one is an angel…” she lured in that last bit. Tilda’s legs extended out of the shadows a bit more. “Yesss, an angel. Don’t . . . don’t you miss your wingssss, Tilda?”
“And the other?”
“Just a wolf – a werewolf.” Me’luck, lied. “I’ve always wanted to be a werewolf. And when you get your wingssss back, Tilda – we can finish what we started.”
“You have things?” Tilda caved. “Personal things?” Quickly, the vine scuffled away with scattering taps as it drug its dying leaves away. Moments later it returned, gripping a feather. Tilda quickly stabbed it with her longest leg and curled it to her where she sniffed at it. “You’re right. An angel. Penelope. Fallen, but still, an angel none the less…” The vine retreated again. Moments later, it returned with tuffs of thick black shedding.” Tilda was quick to collect the fur and she repeated the notion, sniffing it. There was a long pause. The vines began to snake towards the spiders’ legs, but she smacked at them.
“Tildaaa, what do you smell? Tilda, what are you doing? Will you spin us a web?” Me’luck’s branches rustled against a breeze above and her trunk creaked and croaked impatiently.
“You be careful with that wolf’s body.” Tilda warned deeply. “Darius is not just a wolf. He’s much more… than he seems” She pondered, her legs itching at one another. “What say we trade? I’ll take the wolf, and you the angel?”
“No. No, no, no, no, no! I found the things! I get to choose. I want to be a wolf next.” Me’luck’s dried and brittle branches began to stir and rattle.
“Very well.” Tilda allowed. “This will take some time. They are more powerful than the others. Before we can inhabit their bodies, we must first trap their conscious through their dreams. I will spin a web. Ready your nightmares, Me’luck.”
“Laus erit nobis magicae.” Me’luck chanted.
”Et conteram ait, ista maledictio.” Tilda chided before she slipped back into the rot hole, taking with her – the personal things Me’luck had collected. She’d craft a dreamcatcher and together, the spider and oak would invade dreams and bring about the wolf and angel’s deepest fears. To break them – to destroy them – to hijack and become them . . .
- -
The hammock on her porch cramped him slightly – but he needed the fresh air. Darius woke, only briefly before surrendering back to his dreams. Something tugged at him, back to sleep. He saw Penelope there, as he sank below into the depths of his mind – sitting there on the porch next to him. what am I doing here? He’d remembered the day prior – when he’d shifted into his wolf form and inspired Penelope to use her wings, her gift. That’s right. He remembered. He was staying with her, until she felt comfortable to be on her own again. Slowly, he sat up from the hammock and rubbed at his temples. But, as he did he realixed his hands were not hands at all. They were paws He panicked slightly and tumbled down out of the hammock. I am still . . . in my wolf form? He glanced down at himself and tried to recall his light to shift back to human. But he couldn’t. Glancing up at the overcast – something felt strange. Something was happening. It was blackening and rumbling, but absent of nature’s storms. He glanced at Penelope – she was just sitting there, staring wide-eyed into the distance. Quickly he pattered over to her and nudged her with his muzzle. ”Penelope, Penelope, love – wake up. Wake up, something is happening. He tried to reach her thoughts. He didn’t feel like he was . . . in the right place. What is going on? Everything was still there. Her house, the woods . . . but it all felt so different, darker. And then he knew, they were under a curse. He needed to wake her up. They needed to, Get. Out! “Penelope! WAKE UP.”
The little sparrow’s wings were broken. But she struggled—desperately—hanging onto life as people passed by, unaware of her suffering. But Credence was drawn to her, heavily. He could feel her pain and so he knelt down beside her with offerings for comfort. The sparrow pressed labored sighs from her plumbed body—beak parted—almost as if she were asking him for help. He carefully ran his finger up and down her chest to try and ease the panic. But the sparrow wanted to fly. Credence closed his eyes and focused. Her heart was rapid, but so tired. Her blood was slowing and her body was cooling. The sparrow was dying, he knew, and there wasn’t much time left. There was nothing that he could do to preserve her life. No, that wasn’t why he was here.
And Credence, somehow still remembered what sorrow felt like, as a heaviness grew in his chest where his own heart once beat. It’s time, little one. He whispered and slid his hand beneath her broken body. There were rules of reaping, strict rules, and one of them was to leave the dying where they lay. But Credence glanced about, the streets littered with trash; Not here. No, you want to see the sunset. He knew, and he scooped the sparrow up against his chest. To the mortals, they’d never even realize the bird had vanished at his touch, as he carried her gently over towards the park-lake that drank in the golden light from the dying rays above. His thumbs swept at the gasping bird gently and he could feel the fear soothing into something more eager. And the evening began to dapple itself with clouds candied by bursts of pink and orange and exhaled a brisk yawning against the trees that rattled crisped leaves to twirl and dance.
He placed her on the railing, overlooking the water below. And together they watched the sunset die along the brim of the shadowing skyline. Credence could hear her heart flutter slower, and slower, her breath growing quicker and quicker. But as she gazed up, her beaded black eyes ignited like fire as the last of the daylight faded down to dusk. He could see what she saw, an open sky and an open road where she once roamed. He wanted to cry for her but let her enjoy the last of her existence, undisturbed. And when he knew it was time, Credence placed his hand over her form and closed his eyes. And with a gentleness in him he whispered, Be at peace… And by the time the last of the sun light swept off the sparrow – she was gone. He’d taken her to the other place. A chill ran through Credence as he felt her life force dissipate beneath his reaping, and he opened his eyes to let a tear roll down his cheek. He watched the sky for a bit longer, sniffling and cradling the sparrow in his hands before letting her body fall to the waters below. And as loneliness haunted him it grew cold again.
Credence couldn’t remember how long he’d been reaping. The only thing he knew was that he’d died young and he’d died horrible. But that didn’t matter anymore. He was responsible—like many other reapers—to find the dying and send them on their way, effectively. It was to be a swift and carefree process. But Credence felt the pain of each and every soul he laid to rest. The others’ felt nothing, while he felt everything. He wasn’t supposed to remember everyone he visited either. None of the others’ did, they didn’t even remember the soul they’d ferried prior. Their memories were wiped and their priorities were simple. Credence, however embraced the beauty in death with a passion. Animals could always see him. But humans never could, thus he walked a lonely road…
He was pulled towards a neighborhood lined with tall midnight lamp posts. Each one dimmed as he passed and he found himself standing on the ‘welcome’ doormat of a lonely little house near the end of the block. A dying soul was calling for him inside. This one is holding on to life sternly he knew. Gently he phased through the door and spilled into the silent aura inside. It smelled of fresh linen and aged wood, home. He glanced around a moment. If felt warm and comforting. There were pictures on the wall, a young blonde smiling, but with sorrow fluttering in her eyes. He slowly traveled up the stairs and paused in the doorway of the bedroom where a young woman slept. I’m sorry. He wanted to tell her. Credence was about to leave her alone tonight. He sighed and dropped his gaze and forced himself to press on towards the master bedroom on the left.
An older woman stirred under the blankets with moans of pain. Credence gently found himself at her bedside. He could feel the struggles within her, but he also allowed himself to realize the strength she held. She’s holding on, for her. He glanced back from where he’d come. He knew this mother was worried for her daughter if she’d let go. But he was here now. Gently, Credence bent over and whispered, It’s time. gently in her ear and placed his hand atop her brow. He closed his eyes tight. She was fighting him. She was fighting hard and Credence gritted his teeth as he tugged at her soul. He was loosing grip, trembling even, but finally he grabbed hold of her and began to pull her through. It hurt. It hurt a lot and tears streamed down his face. He could see everything she was flashing before her eyes. Memories, sweet memories of a little blonde girl. Her daughter. And he almost could not bare it anymore, but he held on until he took her completely…
… but then a gasp startled him and when he opened his eyes, he saw the young woman standing in the doorway, terrified. And he realized . . . s-she can see me! And just as he thought he had the older woman’s soul ferried, her life force exploded into a burst of light and swept back into her body and Credence was forced back against the wall. He was quick to scramble to his feet and tried to run, but he’d been so weakened that he collapsed onto the ground, energy fading and bringing him into a daze…
In loving memory of my grandfather sparrow March 23,1950 - January 23rd 2020
Aurelius— Aurelius sweetheart its time to blow out your candles.
His eyes flashed open, taking in a sharp gasp. They always opened at that moment in this dream, No, this nightmare. Right before he’d gotten to see his mother’s face again. And it was the only place Aurelius was still his name. He sighed and turned over in his cot and winced – the gashes from that evening’s lashing still wept at his back. He hunted his conscious memory again, hoping he could squeeze any sort of small details to form his mother’s face. Just her face, that’s all I want. But at least he could remember the likeness of her voice. It burned bright in his heart. But he hated himself for having such a fickle memory. Bits and pieces were scattered like breadcrumbs for him to follow. And what his memory did let him have more vividly than anything, was the painful day when his mother died. He tightened his eyes closed and tried to find sleep again. And then the sharp spraying of sand rattled at the door of the hovel . A sandstorm. Worse than usual.
Gently, he sat up and glanced over to Ruri, another orphan who was fidgeting and whimpering to herself beneath her blanket. Credence peaked over at the other orphaned children who were also stirring in their cots and he sighed lightly. A few of them were freshly captured, freshly stolen or sold to his master, Vance Quo and he held heavy sympathy for each and everyone them. Slavery was the best these children had on Tatooine. But, Credence was the oldest. He was the first and he had to keep these children calm. He had to keep them safe. He felt a strong sense of responsibility, flutter through his ambitions. Sweeping the starchy blanket from him, he sat up and lit the lantern on the side perch. And just as he knew, all of them – were awake – and he gave them a small and inviting smile.
Ruri was the first out of bed. Her bare and sodden feet pattering over as she rubbed away her tears. She sat in front of his bed, glancing up and the other children followed and created an audience in front of him.
“We need to stay brave.” Credence began at a rasped and exhausted whisper. “We need to stay strong.” His glance fell on each of them, one by one. “You can’t let him see your weakness.” His head twitched lightly, ever so often by damaged nerves at his back attempting to scorn his bravery preach. But as he saw their eyes glisten, he only stayed content. “Tomorrow, the master is going to be taking us into Mos Eisley. You need to be quick and swift, like I showed you.” And showing them how to pick pocket burned regret through him, but they had to survive. “The Master has debts to pay, and if he can’t pay them - his master will not be happy.” He trailed off a moment – those wounds at his back igniting with a fiery pain. He didn’t want to ever have to comfort them against wounds like... these.
There were things he remembered about his mother. Things that weren’t just aspects of teachings. Things he could . . . feel. And other things were internal beliefs, something he was born to be. a survivor. He remembered his father sparsely. He knew that the bastard was an Imperial supporter and Credence and his mother suffered for it – but that didn’t matter. Not here. Not in this wasteland. But he’d make sure he’d express those strengths his mother whispered to him to these children. He’d taught them the skills they needed. But it was up to them to do their part and apply. “Be swift.” He noted. “Be cautious.”
“And keep our eyes wide open.” They chanted back. Credence offered them a curt nod. He could feel the energy lighten up a bit more now. But when his eyes fell back to Ruri, he could feel how hard she was fighting back those tears.
“Back to bed.” He instructed at a whisper, “Ruri – can you help me with something?” And the little girl was quick to her feet, anticipation flooding through her while the frizz of her reddened hair bounced. Credence lead her towards the pantry, sparse of food and dusted. But before he could even turn around, she began sobbing. Credence lowered himself, to a knee and gripped her shoulders before taking her into a tight hug. She buried her face into his chest. “Shhh, Ruri, shhh. You’ll wake up Vance” He held her tight.
“Its all my fault, Credence. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell him it was me?” He could hear the frustration in her voice, so he pulled away and gave her a smile, even forced past his pain.
“Because I can handle it.” Credence allowed. “I can handle it and I would rather it be me than you. I’ll take the beating for all of you.” His thumb swiped a rolling tear off her cheek. “Don’t cry for me, Ruri.” He asked. “I will be fine, I promise.” And when her hands came up to brace his cheeks, he closed his eyes and felt a heavy kick to his heart. He could feel his surrendering of despair create a dampness in his eyes, but he didn’t want her to see it. He brought his hands up atop hers and pulled them down gently. He loved Ruri. He loved her so much and he hated that she had to be in this place. “Alright, little theif.” He sniffled. “Let’s get you back to bed.” He lifted her up and carried her back into their sleeping quarters. And on his way in, he caught sight of Vance peering in through the bars that imprisoned the brood of orphans. Credence paused, a chill running down his spine. He saw the man grin at him through his thickly matted beard and he curled a finger inward, calling him closer.
Credence felt trembling , but he lied Ruri down into bed and braved her a smile, hiding the fear that rattled his nerves. He gave her a gentle kiss against her brow and swept the blanket over, ensuring her toes were covered too. “Sleep now, little Ruri.” He whispered and gently turned, eyes scrapping the floor before giving them to Vance. Credence approached lightly, but held a stiffness to his posture. Don’t let him see you’re fear. But Credence was terrified of this man. He’d always been so terrified. Because of what he would do to them if he wasn’t in line.
“What are they doing awake?” And even at a whisper, Vance’s voice boomed deeply.
“J-just some nightmares.” Credence dropped his gaze. He could feel his hands trembling, “But they’re back to sleeping now.”
“Are they ready?”
“Yes.” He hushed, defeated.
“We need them to bring me some goods. Some real goods Credence.” Vance shot his hand through the bars and grabbed Credence by the collar and pulled him forward. With a light whimper, Credence tried his best not to make noise. “They better be good and ready, Credence. C’ause if they’re not, you’re gonna be the one diggin’ their graves. I’m not wasting food on useless mouths.”
“Th-they’re ready.” Credence strained at a whisper, gritting his teeth as he was pulled against the chipping rust. “I promise.” And when Vance finally let him go, Credence wanted nothing more than to reach through and slit Vance’s throat with the metal shard, stowed up his sleeve.
“Alright. Alright, good.” The pause was long and cold, while Credence waited for the next moment. “Meet me in Old Quarter, at Chalmun’s Cantina after you assign the children.” Credence nodded but knitted his brows in suspicion. That was an odd request. Normally he’d be sent off near the spaceports—plucking—off the newly arrived. “And Credence . . . make sure no one foll’as ya. Got it?” He nodded his head and waited to be dismissed. “Get yer arse to bed, boy. No more midnighty story times.” Credence turned from him quickly – feeling the cold of his stare at his back. Anger boiled through him. He could feel the rage whisper something in the dark – poking at his desires. Desires for revenge. Desires for freedom. Credence felt a sudden rush creep up his spine. It tingled and chipped away at his nerves and he nearly felt as if he were losing his grasp on his consciousness. He stumbled lightly, a throbbing pain in his head began to wave his vision. But when he finally made it back to his cot, he lied down and fell fast asleep…
Aurelius. Soft and sweet and . . . M-mom? It was dark, but Credence swore his eyes were opened. He looked left, nothing. He searched right, still pitch. He looked up and saw a light. It was small, fickle, but it was so beautiful. Credence reached up towards it. He swore he could feel its warmth. Aurelius… He stood on his tip toes. Mom, I-I can’t reach you. And as the light began to fade, Credence panicked. He began to scream and shout and yell in anger as the light finally dimed to nothing against the black. He was left alone, in the dark, his sobbing echoing around him. After a while he didn’t realize the cold grow more frigid. He didn’t notice that shadow—darker than the pitch—flutter down around him. But he felt a sudden sense of numbing and then there was an rapid explosion, ripping through the abyss…
Credence woke with a gasp. Another nightmare to marry my sorrows. He tightened his jaw and realized the rays of morning were bleeding beneath the doorway beyond their cage. Vance would be at the bars any minute now. Credence quickly swept from his bed and began to nudge the children one by one.
“Wake up.” He whispered. “Everyone, wake up.” And as they rubbed the sleep from their eyes, Credence rushed them. He tossed their clothes on each of their beds and scowled at a few of them when they’d lied back down. Seven children. He’d been caring for seven children and he needed them all to be successful today. Vance appeared at the gate – eyes sodden and narrow – searching for anything he didn’t like. They all stood in a perfect line from shortest to tallest. Hands at their side, chins up, voices ready to agree, their obedience.
“Well done, Credence. Now get them in the skiff.”
- -
The heat had already drained them all by the time they’d arrived in Mos Eisley. But the children were strong and they stayed brave like Credence. They were let off at the mouth of the market and as Vance took off, Credence begin stationing the children. There were small goods, lightweight and low to the ground in purses and pockets. Credence sent the children into different districts, saving Ruri for the fruit stands. “Get us a nice bunch of sweets for tonight, okay?” He smiled at her and tapped her nose with his finger before allowing a hug. And as she ran off, he watched her a moment. He watched her and his smile faded as their distance grew. And as she dashed around a corner, he let out a sigh. She’ll be okay. He knew. She’ll be . . . just fine.”
The streets were packed today and he had to shove through the crowd to try and reach Old Quarter briskly. A thundering boom silenced the crowd and they all glanced up as … an Imperial Sentinel entered the atmosphere and hoovered in. Its wings swooped up and it slowly descended behind the tent tops near where Credence was heading. He paused. A gut feeling, but he shook off his instincts and headed further down. And as he found himself at the crossing, Credence stared at the cantina, ducking behind a swaying of freshly sewn linens. He watched as a handful of Storm Trooper marched into the cantina’s doors…
“Must be lookin’ for the princess.” Credence jumped and glanced behind him, then down at the smallest little old woman he’d ever seen.
“The princess?” Credence glanced back over, knitting his brows.
“Princess Leia, of course.” She chuckled as she folded a tan sheet. “I saw her sweep by here, a brood at her back. Not sure what brings her home, but she may have brought company.” Credence scuffed out a sarcastic chuckle and rolled his eyes.
“Don’t believe me? Suit yourself, Aurelius.
Credence paused, as that name hit him, hard. He parted his lips, but . . . couldn’t speak. Turning his head, gently he wondered how she knew his name. “Wh-who . . . are you? How do you know that name?”
“I know a lot about you, Aurelius. It only took one quick look for me to know. I’ve been watching you from a distance for a long while now. And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through all of this. But I knew, when it was time, you’d be led right to me.” She set the sheet in her hands down and waddled towards him. And it was as if he closing distance forced him down onto his knees. His eyes were struck in a daze as he stared into her eyes. He swore he could see stars and planets and the swirling color collisions of the universal plight. And as he was down at her level, just like he’d been with Ruri the night prior, he watched this little woman embrace him tightly. “You look just like your mother.” And Credence shut his eyes tight to keep the tears from falling. Her embrace was so . . . familiar. I’ve felt this before. He lied his brow against her chest. He didn’t understand what was happening.
“Who were you to me?” Credence whispered against her.
“I was your father’s servant. Irma” She whispered, rocking him lightly. “Everyone thought you were gone. But I knew. I knew you found your way. But now you’re back. Now, you can make a difference, as you were born too”
“I don’t understand.” Credence whispered.
“Oh, Aurelius - how can you not see? How can you not see what you are? You've the brightest soul of all of us. You’ve come from the light and you possess the dark. You are the balance the universe needs.” He wasn’t sure what everything meant. But he held onto her. He held onto her tight and tried his best to remember. “You were so small. So, very small when your father tried to push you. He was always forcing you to work at it.” The . . . force Credence remembered. “The dark star. Your father wanted you to take control of it.” She paused and lifted off him. “And when you vanished out there he thought you were dead and he sold me off and here I came.” Credence felt that sudden chill creep up his spine again. Dark … star . . . He tried to shake the feeling, but the heat was making his head pound now. whispers pried at his ears. Thousands of whispers all shifting their tunes in unison. His heart began to race. His blood began to boil. His hands began to quake. “Aurelius…”
His eyes flashed open, and he glared at Irma. The chills and quakes and whispers quickly ceased. “No.” He growled and stood. “No, you don’t know me at all.” He whispered. “You’re just a witch.” And quickly he stormed off towards the cantina. Shaking his head, he refocused, but glanced behind him one last time. Huffing he faced back forward and forced himself to forget whatever that was. Great, now Vance is going to have it out for me. He pushed through the entry crowd and found Vance sitting at a booth in the far east corner. Why are we here? Annoyance bickered at him as he averted the chaos on his way over. Gently, he slipped into the opposing side.
“Well there ye are. What took ya?” Vance chewed on the crust of his ending cigar.
“It wont happen again.” He whispered.
“No mind to that.” He paused but leaned over on his elbows. “Don’t you have a branding on you?” Credence’s eyes shot up at him. He couldn’t lie, so he nodded hesitantly. “Show me again.” Credence sulked in his seat but turned his head slowly and gently pulled down the collar of his shirt. And there on his collar bone was the branding of an Empire seal. Vance started laughing. And a muster of Storm Troopers approached the booth. “That’s good. That’s real good.” Vance glanced at them and pointed. “It’s on his collar bone, beneath that shirt.” Credence glanced from Vance to the troopers in a panic.
“What’s going on?” Credence shifted back in his booth as one of the troopers reached for him.
“Sorry boy. But there’s a bounty on poor souls who have a branding on them. It means return at all costs. It means, reward, boy.”
“Wait – wait no.” Credence tried to hop over the booth, but the Trooper caught his arm and swung him down. A second rushed him and put a fist to his back. He felt his wounds reopen and he collapsed to his knees, breathless at first. With a heavy gasp he shot a pleading stare to Vance. “Please, please don’t.”
“Because of you, boy, those kids will get a full belly tonight and a long career as street pickers.” He laughed down at Credence and stood to leave. Credence hung his head, his strength fickle. Ruri’s face flashed before his eyes. The whispers started meek at first. But as everything else around him muted out, the chants, they grew louder and quicker and stronger and then his eyes began to blacken over…
The cantina erupted, engulfed in an entanglement of black chaos. It was a swarm, large and angry and static as it ripped apart the cantina and drove the masses into a panic. Credence saw it all. He…was it all and he could see the faces of all the fleeing people. But they were not what he was after. The mass recollected into a spiraling mist of black. It slithered down and disintegrated Vance while he screamed.
Tick, tick, tick, tick His eyes were heavy on the clock above the kitchen window while he counted down the last minute before 10:07 P.M. And when the last tick tocked and the hand slivered down and marked 10:08, Credence closed his eyes and made a wish. But his wishes were always dappled first with gratitude. It was something he remembered being taught so vividly by his mother. Thank you, for another year. He had to catch his breath to overcome the hollowness that drowned his voice, mute. It was even a challenge for speech to channel through his thoughts.
One more year, and I can leave this place. I’m hoping I can find out where she is. That’s all I want. I just want to find her. Maybe . . . maybe you can help me? Whoever I’m talking to. He opened his eyes and wiped away a tear that was lingering to fall from his lashes dried in blood. “Happy birthday, Credence.” he whispered to himself and he dabbed at the fresh wound above his cheekbone with a wet paper towel. He winced while his hand trembled before he squeezed at it, allowing the alcohol infused to seep into the wound. And it stung. He braved the pain and sat there, holding the towel against his face for a good while before releasing. This is what I get. He justified his punishment. He’d forgot how much his step father hated it, when he asked to see that old photo of his mother.
There was a small chill however that creeped down his back as he allowed himself, a bit of anger. And then lightly, there was a vibration that rattled first—the table and then the cabinets as the china trembled like he did when he was scared. He closed his eyes and [ f o c u s e d ] …
“Credence?” He gasped and quickly stood, pushing his chair back as his father, no, my step father stumbled into the kitchen. “Credence I need you to go to the store for me.” He was stuffing his hand into his back pocket as he searched for his wallet. Credence kept his eyes to the ground, his fingers fidgeting at his side as he waited for instructions that he’d follow without question. The thick clank of his step father’s deputy badge hit the table and with, it a clamor of change pieces. “Damn it, can’t find my wallet.” His lips grumbled around the cigarette.
“Y-you had …”
“What, boy?”
“You had it in the living room.” His voice was thin, but Credence wanted to seem helpful. His stepfather glanced at him through reddened eyes. He’s still drunk. “By the fireplace, remember?” Credence dropped his gaze again and stood stiff, not daring to give off any sense of rebellious impressions. He glanced over at the deputy badge however, and shuddered. It felt like the key to some sort of cage he was unsure of how to unlock. And while the master of the house wandered off to retrieve his wallet, Credence let out the breath he’d been holding in. His hands began to tremble, and he hated himself for lack of courage. His right hand swept across him to hold steady the left, but he could not control it. And when the thumping on the floorboards grew louder, Credence hid his hands behind his back and stiffened his posture, again.
“Here’s five bucks. I need some more ginger ale and ice .” He tossed a five-dollar bill on the table. But it’s not enough money. Credence wanted to argue, but he only nodded and waited for him to leave the kitchen. His step father swayed a bit, still in the suit he’d worked his day in. He didn’t even remember smashing Credence across the face only an hour ago, or maybe he did and Credence still felt like he was in trouble. “Make sure you hurry on back.” Was all he left him with and walked back into his study. Credence wanted to crumble His hand—still trembling—reached for the cash, but first hoovered over the deputy badge. His thumb swept across the name, Deputy Charles Barebone I wish you could see how much I’m trying to be your son. But ever since his mom had run off, Charles seemed to hate Credence even more than he’d already had. And he wasn’t sure what he ever did, wrong, but he must have really done something bad. I’m sorry. He sniffled and grabbed the money and scraped up the change. He’d cover the difference.
The sky was overburdened with fog, but Credence let the cool air hit him like he let everything else. It was cold, but he was too numb, and he knew the way by heart, keeping his eyes down in solitude. He counted the groves in the sidewalk, evenly spaced. 123 until he’d find himself in front of the convenient store. But he paused and found a pair of pink sneakers in front of him. Hesitantly, he glanced up. And she was the one from their school – Becca. She was bundled in her coat of black faux and her cherry blonde hair had been stuffed in a maroon beanie. And she was smiling at him. Why?
“Hello . . . Credence, right?” She grinned. “Credence Barebone?” No, Credence Aurelius. He remembered his mother’s maiden name. Kendra Aurelius. But he nodded lightly and looked into her eyes for sincerity – but she had a deviant flicker working against her. What do you want? But he just stood there, waiting for her to say something more. “Was wonderin’ if that was you.” She anticipated something from him. A laugh? Flirtation? Credence shivered as she kept him.
“I-I gotta go.” He huddled his arms around himself and sidestepped around her. But she trailed after. He paused again, glancing behind him. And naturally he enforced concern. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft, but alert with all the worry for her in the world.
“Well.” She began pivoting those pink sneakers on the pavement. “I think I dropped my wallet, down this, this dark alley and-“
“I can help you.” He offered softly. She was scared, he figured, and he knew that fear all to well. It was the most uncomfortable thing in the world. Make sure you hurry on back. He ignored his stepfather’s reminder. Charles was a cop, he’d help if he were here. And when she smiled at him again, Credence surrendered his own little feeble one. And somehow he felt warm, and the cold didn’t matter.
He followed her to the alley where she’d claimed to have dropped her wallet. She huddled next to him, gripping his arm. He ignored the burning of the wounds beneath his sleeves and kept his eyes steady, searching the shadows. “What does it look like?”
“It looks like we’ve captured cop jr.” Credence quickly glanced up and four boys surrounded him. The one with the deepest grin was Scott Henson. Credence backed against the wall and his eyes went wide. “Nice job, Becca.” Credence looked to her with a depleting sigh, betrayed. “You cop dad has evidence. Evidence he never took to the station.” Scott began, approaching Credence. He grabbed his bangs and forced his head against the wall. “He robbed us of our stash, you’re going to get it for us.” Scott intimidated.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your jackass pig of a dad, confiscated our dope, dude. He f***in’ kept it. Now I want it back!” And he shoved Credence, hard against the wall. He had to take in a gasp and crumbled to the ground as the wind was knocked from him. When he heard them all laugh, he gave up any thought of self defense. He was tired. Tired of fighting this will to go on. And so he just sat there, shivering as the snow began to flutter down and around them.
And then there was that feeling again. A dreary veil crept up his spine and prickled at his hairs. The pit of his gut turned sour and his hands trembled more. The lamp light above began to flicker.
“Look boys, he’s shivering. Let’s give him something to really shiver about.” And then they were on him, ripping off his overcoat and tearing off his shirt. He tried to fight them off. He tried to kick and punch, but they had him. They backed away, but instead of those expected mocking chides and laughs he saw that they stared down at him in horror. The lamp light above exposed the bruises and scars about his pale body, just before it went dim . . .
He was looking up at them in terror one moment, but the next he was being lifted. Anger rippled through him and he tried to hold it in, but he wasn’t strong enough and let out a loud and painful scream. And with that scream something was released. All he could see were the others shouting, running, pleading but then the ground rumbled and the walls of the alley exploded and everything went black…
He woke, bare and cold and ontop of a pile of rubble. He shivered and tried to stand, but there wasn’t anything left in him. He looked up at the collapsing of the alley walls and there in its wake, he spotted a pink sneaker. Huddling unto himself he began to sob violently until the panic of it all, pulled him into a fainting. I'm a monster. And the last thing he could hear, was the ambulance blaring in the distance.
Click on a link below to be redirected. All of my drabbles are influenced by various music artists. Please put on some headphones and enjoy reading my work with the selected song I wrote in sync with.I love to bring about deeper emotions and I think you all will find it even more enhancing. Enjoy and thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. - c.b.'s writer
Austria dealt a fridged dusk, but Credence found himself embracing it with a red-nipped nose and trembling fingers. He let his breath fog a small cloud, surrendering a pained sigh. There were starlings in the sky, fluttering in unison. [ F r e e . ] Credence watched them from the castle top’s balcony where he’d made perch. There was a heaviness in his heart that kept him looking up, looking for something to release him from that weighting burden. And even as his name had been restored - something still felt wrong. That was all he ever wanted. But in his thoughts, he still self-identified himself as Credence, not fully feeling worthy of the Dumbledore surname. But there was more than just that, keeping him restless…
He wondered where she was, now. He wondered…if she’d forgive him. Letting go of her hand was the hardest thing, he’d ever had to do. And he did it without even looking her in the face because he knew if he had, he’d not have taken Grindelwald’s offer. And Credence realized it now, as he watched the flock flutter together and spin in spirals, working the sky together and forming something beautiful. Was that how she saw me? He wondered cautiously, remembering when he’d danced around the Eiffel tower, exposing what he was to her. I hope so. It had been the seventh day he’d woken up and Nagini was not by his side. And it hurts.
He closed his eyes a moment and took in a deep breath. It didn’t clear that lump in his throat, however. But he felt himself materialize and he took flight, his murmuration spiraling up into the sky where it met the starlings. They fluttered quick away from him, but he only followed and soon they realized he was no threat to them. And together they collided and glided past the frozen bluff and down unto a river pass where he stirred up frost and shivered the branches on iced trees. He let the starlings lead him to wherever they were going. For a while he felt as if he’d been soaring for hours. Maybe days. Hopefully, forever. But somehow he’d sensed her aura drawing closer and closer.
The starlings fluttered around a small inn and settled in the field beyond its resting point. His shadow overhead, gently descending and formed his physical embodiment again. He glanced around himself looking at the little refuge she managed to find. He wasn’t sure where this was, but more importantly . . . “Nagini.” His whisper was soft barely even existing as he glanced inside the window. She was asleep, a beauty cradled unto herself as if she were missing someone to hold onto. And boldly, he slipped inside her window, carefully. He held a soft hold on her with an anticipating gaze. Her eyes were open, but he knew she was sound. And he knelt down beside her bed. He took a moment to study her and an eagerness to slip beneath the covers overtook him. But he only stayed there kneeling. And he had to blink away the oncoming tears.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered but held his breath as that lump in his throat began to stab at him again. “For abandoning you…” He slid his hand forward, palm up, scars exposed, and he took hold of hers’. The scales about her wrist were growing ever so slowly now. But all he could feel was the softness of her palm pressing into his. And he closed his eyes, letting that beauty seep in. Her touch always seemed to dull his pain slightly. But he’d already placed her in danger so many times before. And it was because of him, her scales began to dapple her wrists more boldly. If only she didn’t try to stop Gunnar Grimmson when he’d laid waste to Irma’s apartments, she’d not be even closer to serpentine state. He drooped his head and just felt the pulse-beat in her palms. “I had to leave you.” He confessed gently. “The path I’m on, what I am, will hurt you.” And when he opened his eyes, he realized they spilled out a tear for every time he regretted leaving her. And they streamed down his cheeks. Quickly, he wiped at them and sniffled. “Your time is limited.” He fought past the sniffles. “Don’t waste it on me. You’re free.”
“Aurelius?” the voice was faint and soft. Credence knitted his brows before planting a kiss atop Nagini’s hand. “Aurelius… The voice cooed again. Gently, he stood up and looked at her one last time. “Credence!” And with a gasp his eyes flashed open. His breath released the gasp with fog again and he stared out against the snowcaps that towered over their own refuge. Glancing behind him, that woman, Queenie. stood at the door to the castle’s rooftop and offered him the smallest of compassions. “Honey, it’s time.” She was sweet to him and he was thankful for that. Her heart hurts too. She nodded her head towards the door. “Come on, it’s cold out here. I’ve made some coco.”
“I’ve . . . only seen coco before.” Credence admitted. But he wasn’t truly interested in it. “I’ll be in.” He promised. And when Queenie nodded with a smile and left, Credence turned his attention down at the little black starling he’d been cradling in his hands. The stream of tears were still fresh on his cheeks, but he knew that’s what he would say to Nagini if he could. He took another look to the sky, sucking in a deep and brave breath. And with one swift motion he threw his hands open and let the starling take flight. It rejoined its flock and he watched them spiral in flight together. “I love you.” He confessed to the sky. Maybe, wherever she was, she’d feel it. “Thank you.” He finished before wiping away that weakness. And he turned towards this new path and left the starlings, flying free.
something to release him from that weighting burden. And even as his name had been restored - something still felt wrong. That was all he ever wanted. But in his thoughts, he still self-identified himself as Credence, not fully feeling worthy of the Dumbledore surname. But there was more than just that, keeping him restless… 
the little black starling he’d been cradling in his hands. The stream of tears were still fresh on his cheeks, but he knew that’s what he would say to Nagini if he could. He took another look to the sky, sucking in a deep and brave breath. And with one swift motion he threw his hands open and let the starling take flight. It rejoined its flock and he watched them spiral in flight together. “I love you.” He confessed to the sky. Maybe, wherever she was, she’d feel it. “Thank you.” He finished before wiping away that weakness. And he turned towards this new path and left the starlings, flying free. 