Moxi's Mother

Upon the disappearance of the Grim Reaper, my mother took me by the arm. Her injured wing struggled, trying to hoist me off the ground until I agreed just to fly beside her. My knees bent to take off, freezing before I could. The call of an owl echoed through the treeline at the end of Chestnut Green, but the hoots slowly grew more distant. Now, the stars all stood at their heights. There in the middle of them was the Big Dipper, no different than it had appeared from Earth. My eyes followed it as I flew slowly after my mother. The stars shouldn’t look the same at any place in the universe as they do from Earth, but I suppose the man in the loudspeaker had said this was another universe entirely.

It was clear from the direction we went in that we were making for Moxi’s house. A twisted wooden tower held up on the side of Mount Addor by two stilts, we entered through the window just under the top of the pointed tower. Though it was hard to see so late at night, the bottom of the tower had all been painted white with black lines as if the wooden structure was made from perfectly carved marble bricks. The conical roof was made from a naturally red wood that had been slightly burned to create a black texture about it.

Moxi squeaked as we appeared through the window into her bedroom, rolling backward across her bed and holding her hand out, “W-what is this intrusion?” A human girl, Moxi, was a few times taller than our house. Her bedroom was all around strange with a silverish canopy around her bed that she’d taken a knife to and ripped no less than twenty little cuts in. A dozen randomly shaped and sized pillows were strewn out over the floor, and there was a framed painting of a cabbage hanging over her door. A marble bust of herself took up the entire surface of her mahogany nightstand.

“Little Moxi!” My mother bobbed up and down in the air, as she hovered over toward the human girl, her arms out as if she was offering a hug to the giant, “It’s Hana and me. Is your mother free?”

Moxi flicked her golden hair, “I do suppose she must be sleeping at this hour. Did she not go to your little festival earlier? She must have gotten herself rather tilled and pinked with alcohol.”

“I did not see her there,” I admitted.

“Pity,” Moxi yawned, “she’d best be downstairs then, or else I have no mind for whatever she must have done with herself. Poor woman, I should disown her now that I remember the kind of family I once had. And you, Hana, were you a countess in your last life?”

I shook my head, “A schoolteacher.”

“Do I need to hold the door open for you tiny things?” She dragged one leg off her bed, stomping it against the glossy, wooden floor. “So that you may…”

My mother interjected, “Thank you so much, Moxi. You’ve always been such a sweet girl, and your help is always appreciated.”

“Hah…” The countess yanked the door halfway out of its hinge, clenching the brass door handle tightly. “Toodaloo, little fairies,” she whistled. We followed the only staircase spiraling down the tower. There were a dozen empty picture frames along the walls. The glass of one was shattered, and bits of paper were left stuck in the broken frame, but nobody bothered to take it down. From the color of hair in the ruined painting, it must have once been of Moxi herself.

The bottom of the tower was covered in brightly colored, foreign rugs with complex geometric designs. A thanestick set up over a small table slowly burned down its side, releasing black-and-blue smoke and filling the room with a scent of tea. Moxi’s mother sat in a large chair with a candle sitting in her lap. It was most of the way burnt out, still flickering for its life. Her mouth curled into a toothed smile, and there was just one yellow tooth in the front of her mouth. The old, human woman snuffed out the candle in front of her, and her voice croaked, “What see you in the smoke, dear?”

“It’s too dark to see the smoke with the candle off,” I admitted.

She sniffed at the air, “What sort of incense is heeded by eyes?” As I turned toward the flamewood, the little fire at the very end of it hissed away, leaving total darkness around it. She cackled, “I said not your eyes, little one. Try again.”

My mother flew slightly closer to me, “Lady Zan, what is this?”

“You come to me for a fortune teller, and ignore my prophecy. I challenge none knows a destiny like a mother. Do not forget this, the image of Death is as real as the North Star. There is no malice in him, for he presides over those already dead. And, if you figured I’d have a cure for you, this is not my calling."

I flew closer to her, “All he says, then, is real. I can go back to Earth in three years if I choose to.”

“And, in that same breath, banish yourself from this place forever. This is all true,” the fortune teller caught another whiff of the air, “And, time does not stop. If you went back now, there would still have been seven years come and gone. In three years, ten. In all ways, you would be vanquished.”

My mother flew toward the fortune teller, “If such a power to take one from a world to another exists, then why shan’t Death share it to all and allow for them all to visit and see the truth of all things? Would this not be a better taste for these folks who would like to experience more home than one.

“I told you before about the paradise I lived first in, and how I would give anything to go back there,” Moxi’s mother admitted, “but, there are rules for what kinds of machines can be made, and what kind of prophecies can ever be spoken. She held up the burnt incense to me, “Smell it yourself, child.”

The thing crumbled to dust in her fingertips, just in front of my face, and I could only smell the thickness of ashes in. I watched it for a moment and gulped, “The ashes are not meant to stay together. Are they?”

“I’ve only ever seen them separated, never the right or wrong about them,” answered the fortune teller, “but there is not a day I know in all the histories when Death stood itself in any mortal world, little as much to correct anything about its stance. Yet, when apparent in dreams, always leaning over the end of his scythe, like a crone's walking stick.” She went on, “You are of your Sevenday, and now can be compelled by none, but if you should know what Death is offering you, you will find your way to the Sapphire Capital. There are prophets a dozen times more generous than I in those lands.”

“I’ve never been to the capital before.”

My mother landed at the edge of Lady Zan’s table, and knelt down, “If there is anything you can do for me. The capital is beautiful, and I will take her there.”

“Ah, but you won’t…” Whispered the fortune teller, “If something ill came of you, the choice you aim to prevent would become sure. My daughter, Moxi, will accompany Hana to the capital. She is no experienced adventurer, but it is my will and hers that she will see the heartland of the kingdom, herself. Moxi will keep Hana safe.”

“Isn’t this convenient, if you want for Moxi to see the capital anyway,” my mother protested.

“Indeed,” Lady Zan folded her hands in front of her, “but that is Fate, who cares not for convenience or coincidence. It is as often her usual form. Begone now, for Hana will need rest to leave, and I will speak no more on this.”