Ch. 7: Sun-stained Counterfeit Colors

EXCERPT OF THE LOWER CLASS

Blue trees. Fireflies like tiny ghosts,
Manifested will-o’-the-whisps.
A swamp of black blood.
Giving our desires through illusions–
It eats at us.
Gilded fangs.

I shouldn’t be here.

But the statues—those faces—

They’re smiling…
Pulling me down.
Blinded by some concept of righteousness–
Anything to make pity seem beautiful.
Slaves of the perfect.

EXCERPT OF THE HIGHER CLASS

I’d reach out…
But they’d never be close enough.
The gap was too far…
Parental perfection–
Chains of pity.
Chains of their own self-greed.

Words:
“Touch the trash–
And you’d be consumed.”

But behind the trash,
What they didn’t tell you…
Was humanity.
Us both, blinded by our own sense of humanity–
One righteous.
One angelic.
These social contortions, concepts–
These chains.
We’d scream and shout at each other–
But it’d come down to.
Which had more power.

And so I sit here–
With a gold fur teddy bear.
Hoping to go on a carousel with all the other kids.

Stories calm me–
Pinocchio.
Wizard of Oz.
Even the Bible.
Garden of Eden.
That original sin that spawned greed.
Spawned the ideal that defines humanity.
They’re adventures I couldn’t ever live–
Not while perfect.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

The crunch of imperfect bones echoed beneath our feet.
Gothic trees loomed above—twisted like cathedral pillars, hollow and half-dead.
Vines dangled from their spines.
Fireflies—parasites of light—burrowed into bark and rot.
Roots thicker than men coiled around statues that had once been men.

We walked this desperate path.
Not led. Not promised.
Driven only by the hunger of those cursed lights.

Lustrae.
Predators of desire.
Those who chased them starved in the fog—hallucinating feasts, choking on greed.

The haze stung my eyes.
Sweat leaked through the seams of my armor, trailing down the steel like tears.
My frame: slick with condensation.

I am not built to feel.
But I feel because of him.

Emnu.
The eight-tailed fox.
He teaches me things I shouldn't remember:
Laughter.
Fun.
The lie called happiness.

All tricks to hide the pain.
And I know what hiding feels like.

I've done it my whole life.
The visor of ignorance.
The mask of survival.

The poet’s child…
I left him to die.

These fireflies.
That little girl.
My failed suicide.

A weight coils in my throat.
If morality had hands, it would strangle me.

I am lost.

But Emnu never asks.
Never blames.
He just walks.
Heals.

I look down at the blade mark across my ribs.
I touch it—
And the pain fades.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

Emnu hops onto a branch—then to my shoulder.
He smirks. A thought forming.

“Hey mister—what’s the hurry? You walk a path with no goal…”

I glance at him. My mouth opens.

“That’s exactly why I walk.
You can justify anything if you stand still too long.”

I pause. Look at him again.

“I’d be like those statues. Beautiful… and broken.
Tell me, Emnu—what’s more human: ignorance, or self-destruction?”

He jumps down to a stretched stone hand. It cracks beneath him.
He doesn’t care.

We walk in silence.

Then:

“Hey mister…”

“It’s Cain.”

Emnu leaps from statue to statue. Laughing.

“Cain, huh?
Well… I like ‘mister.’”

And then he smiles—
Just as the sun begins to rise.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

The sun.
It crests at its peak.
Royal purple. Determined orange. A golden yellow that understands.
A swirl of heaven painted across sky.

Then, it reels back—
As if reversing time.
A gear unwinding a mistake.

The colors are swallowed.
All that’s left is black and white.
False light.
Manufactured, LED.

Like the one pretending close to home.

She appears—
Ink sketch on blank canvas.
The little girl.
Clutching faceless statues in each hand.
Crying.

She opens her mouth.
Childlike. Divine.

“Mother. Father. They never showed emotions.
They sat and watched me dream.
They’d already fulfilled every dream—
So they couldn’t love anyone who still had one.”

She snaps their hands off—
Chains revealed, binding them to her wrists.

“Without the sun… my flaws might be allowed.”

She turns.
Walks.
Fades.
The fog eats her.

I shout—without thinking.

“Wait!”

And I feel it.
A chain in my wound.
Leading to her.
Draining me.

That African veldt—
The warmth of a sun painted by a child.
But no sun lives here.

Only hunger pretending to shine.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

So I follow the chain.
Forged of sorrow.
Each footstep: a metallic slush through the blood of generations.

I’m not fighting for class.
Not for pride.
But for the hope that my humanity is still righteous.

Wealth isn't shelter.
It isolates.
It corrupts.
It consumes both sides.
She clings to what little she owns—her body.
The others want it, too.

Money can't buy innocence.

The fog parts—
The carnival.

Children laughing in cul-de-sacs that never existed.
Flashes of joy.
Fantasies.

The clowns. The colors. The lies.

And the girl.
Still running.

Not old enough to be stained—
But judged for the stain of inheritance.

She has everything.
She has nothing.

Her parents—
Addicted to image.
That’s why they have no faces.

Emnu pants beside me. I shout—

“Let me carry you!”

He leaps into my hand. Exhaling,

“Hey mister...
I usually repel the Lustrae.
They’re drawn to desire—
But this… this is being forced.
I can’t stop it.”

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

The colorless carnival rushes past—
Blurred brushstrokes on broken canvas.

My metal limbs strain.
The gears protest.
But the pain sharpens me.
Not dulls.

Let me repent:
For the world that didn't see her.
For the parents who chained her.
For a soul they taught to hate its flaws.

I see her now—
Running with the statues’ chained hands.

My chain rattles.

Just let me—

She vanishes—into the arms of the motherly ghost.
The one from before.
The one singing Nokravis.
A death song—
Only it isn’t death.
It’s mercy.

Everything around us—
Her mind.
She made this.
Built this.

She is the poet.
The architect.
The narrator.

This world:
Her grief.
Her longing.
Her broken portrait of perfection.

And then—
She fades.

For a moment, I see the porcelain doll.

Behind her: the carousel.
Children ride metal horses.
Giggling.

Feasting on artificial joy.
Her fake friends–
Power-hungry actions.

And I—
I am her metal horse.

[End of Chapter]