SIXTY: Racing Home

Moristia got tired of watching and wanted to be one of the watched. Her father was not kind to her idea; he was brutal. So, one day she decided to leave. She knew she had to take James, her baby brother, or her father would take it all out on him.

“Now, I’m 4, almost 5 and she’s eighteen. That was three years ago.”

He finished the story and the tea was done.

“You’re only five?” Arous asked.

“Not quite. But I will be in a couple of months.”

“He’s a prodigy.  He was saying whole words by the time he was six months old.  And complete sentences before he was a year,” Mori said. “We left the day after his second birthday.”

She lay on the mattress staring up at the ceiling.

 “Oh, I miss going outside. I love your smell, you smell like outside.  I love it when James leaves and comes back and smells like the sun,” said Mori.

Mori paused and closed her eyes.

Arous and James helped Mori out of bed.  Between all their caution and effort they made it the one flight up to the roof.

They talked more about Mori’s story and James but Arous’ memory was foggy and fast-forwarded until the sun was coming up.

 “I believe there is another, a better life for me. Therese knows the story, a story about a Prince Charming. Death is the beginning. Life breeds hope. Death is the gateway: a new body, a new life, the same me . . . clean, new. But not here, not again. Not like this.”

And Arous’ mind wandered a bit during Mori’s story and she fought to bring it back but it was getting very late. She was snapped back as the beautiful colors began to emerge on the landscape outside of the wall.

“You should meet, Therese,” said Mori. “She’s the woman from the mission that helps me and James.”

Arous had drifted off at that point and so James continued without being prompted. A woman at a mission befriended the kids on the streets, all the kids who lured and trapped by their own warped hope. Hominy. She fed them hominy. During the week, good souls from outside the walls of the City would bring her corn and she’d make hominy with it and can it.

“Mostly, Muskogee who live in the hills,” said Mori point to the dark humps on the horizon that was appearing before them.

“Though most people don’t believe they exist,” said James. “They are supposed to live with the Momos.”

“I’ve known a few Momos,” said Arous.

James and Mori laughed.

“Anyway, she even helped a few Idelles escape,” said James. “I think there is one going to her now, but I can’t tell you her name.”

Arous knew Therese but had forgotten. Therese was a Yuhiketuh and Priscilla’s sister though they looked nothing alike. Priscilla was thin and tall with long, black wavy hair and olive skin.  Therese was tall and robust with blond hair, fair skin and blue eyes.  Therese was also several thousand years younger than Priscilla. Though the hopelessness in the City had bound Therese’s songs, her well-placed words often worked miracles of healing and escape.

They sat and watched in silence as the sun broke over the desert. Arous saw the look in Mori’s eyes as the sky began to gray. 

“Move me to the street side. I want to see the shadows slink away.”

Arous didn’t understand this request but moved her.  In the dawn, the dessert embodied beauty. They would miss the vibrant pinks and fiery oranges as the sun took its rightful place in the sky. Arous set Mori down on the ledge and sat behind her holding her around the waist. She looked down on the dreary street.  Trash cluttered the street below.  Figures crawled on the street twenty stories below. Arous looked behind her and knew the sun would be bursting on the scene at any moment.  She looked back down at the street. More and more figures appeared and walked faster and faster into an abandoned building and through another alley.

“There’s something else,” Mori whispered and then glanced behind her to see James sleeping on the blanket.

“What?”

“At the Temple where James works sometimes, they promised him that they could cure me.”

“Then why are you still sick?” Arous was eye to eye with Mori.

“Because,” said Mori, “my brother, they asked him to do something. He said no.”

“What was it?”

“He won’t say, he only apologized for not being able to help me,” Mori smiled and pointed. “Look, they’re racing home. They’re all racing home.”

Then it happened. The sun peaked over the horizon.  Figures froze on the street below if afraid that they were going to explode. Then they did double time and made it in doors. And then Arous saw what Mori looked forward to:  the shadows began to slink away. Like ink spilled on paper and time reversed, the darkness retreated around corners, back into trashcans and gutters, through doors.  And with each passing shadow the street became less dreary. Another shadow and another crawled under a car and through a broken window.  A girl ran down the street and ducked into a building, her shadow followed long and ducked behind her. The street appeared cleaner than Arous remembered the previous night. The street lost its darkness and gained hope.

“Listen,” said Mori. “You can hear her singing.”

Arous could hear a crystal clear voice ringing through the streets.

“Who is it?”

“That’s Therese.”