Welcome to my little corner of the internet! I’m so glad you’re here. Below you’ll find part seven of my fantasy short story Going Home. It’s about a young girl named Nani who gets tangled up in fate, tradition, and a giant hole in the ground that leads… somewhere else.
Want to start at the beginning? Here you go:
The next week passed by slowly. To Nani, it seemed to crawl. Even the colors felt muted; everything had taken on an ashen-grey hue. All she wanted to do was hide; from the other townsfolk, from the still sharp cut of losing her best friend, from thoughts of the future that had almost been hers. Her father had raised her well, though. She would not sulk.
You planted the crops, then harvested what grew. Complaining about the yield would help no one.
Still, it was impossible to not see how Havrik’s gamble had affected her family. Ru’an stood slightly less proud, his head bowed under the weight that had settled upon them. His smiles were forced, as though they had travelled through a dense forest to reach his face. Her mother was kind and gentle as always, but there was an anger that burned beneath the surface. A small portion was kindled by Annali’s guilt, for the first emotion she had felt when Nani stepped down had been relief. The lion’s share of anger, however, was reserved for the slight suffered by her daughter.
Talun tried his best to cheer the rest of them up, his gentle spirit still unbowed by the world’s worries. He had walked into Nani’s room the day after she had forfeited her claim.
“Shouldn’t you be glad that you, um, don’t have to die?” he asked as she lay on her bed. Her eyes were red.
“You are too young to understand,” she said. “It’s not about dying. It’s about bringing glory to our family.”
“I just think you can do that better if you’re alive.” He stood silent for a moment, then said quietly, “I’m glad you’re staying around… even if you are a freak.”
That had brought a smile to Nani’s face. Talun was kind-hearted; he would be a good leader someday; perhaps even chief.
The hurt was still fresh when Suli knocked on Nani’s door one morning, two days before the ceremony. Annali answered. Her hand tightened on the wooden frame when she saw who was outside.
“Can we help you?” she said, straining to keep her voice pleasant. Suli didn’t meet her eyes.
“I’m here because…” her voice was barely above a whisper. “Can I talk to Nani?” she asked.
“I think you have said quite enough, Suli,” Annali answered. “Where is your father?” Suli flinched slightly, as if struck.
“He wouldn’t… he doesn’t know I’m here.” She looked up then. “Please…” Something in her voice moved Annali, thawing a bit of the ice that she had erected as a shield.
“She’s in her room,” she said. “I don’t know if she is looking for visitors, though. Especially…” she left the rest of her warning unsaid. Suli nodded before walking past.
Nani had been lying awake in bed, tossing a small woven ball full of beads against the ceiling, so she heard the exchange. She sat up when Suli entered. For a long while, there was silence. Nani studied the other girl, realizing just how much that name fit her. Not a baby, but far from a woman. Her hair was tied in two simple braids, and there was a dirt smudge on her left cheek. She looked, now more than ever, like a child. Although she was only a few months younger than Nani, they could have been separated by decades.
“You’ve been crying,” Nani said, seeing the redness around Suli’s eyes. She nodded.
“I know you hate me,” she said. “You should. But… I didn’t know where else to go…”
“What’s wrong?” Nani asked.
“I’m scared,” she said, moving closer to the bed. “Nani, I’m so scared.”
“What are you scared of?” She felt like her mother, carefully coaxing the story from the frightened little girl.
“Falling… Darkness… Demons… Everything. I don’t want this…I… I thought I did,” she paused, remembering. “I was so jealous when I first heard that you were chosen. But then I thought more about it, and I was relieved. I’m no hero. But my pa… he… he couldn’t take it. You know how he gets sometimes. Says Ki’Kiri’s taken enough from us…” the words came out in a rush. Nani nodded, her suspicions confirmed.
“Couldn’t you talk to the chief?” she asked. “Try to explain things?” Suli’s brown skin paled.
“I can’t go against father,” she said weakly. “You should have seen him while Chief Liatu was going over the details of the ceremony. I haven’t seen him this happy in years.”
“I know what that’s like,” Nani said, a hint of anger coloring her words. Suli smiled, a small, tired lifting of the corners of her mouth.
“Of course you do. I’m so sorry, but...” She shook her head firmly. “Father deserves something better. He seems mean, but he loves me. I know he does. I’m not big enough to really help in the fields. I’m just a drag on him.” Nani began to speak, but Suli cut her off. “He needs this, Nani. I need to do it. I just… I’m not the brave girl I pretended to be when we were little.” She spread her hands out to the side. “I wish there was some way out of it, but… I’m stuck.”
Nani sat, thinking. Perhaps Suli was more mature than she had given her credit for. Still, it felt unfair to be in this position. She would have done almost anything to switch places with Suli, but now she was supposed to comfort her? Yes, that was generally the way of things. You weren’t called on to be brave only when it was easy or profitable. She stood up, taking the other girl’s hands in her own.
“I was scared too. Uncertain…” Nani said. “Before your father rang the bell. It’s why I was heading to N’Uata when you saw me.”
“Really? But I’ve never seen you act scared.”
“Oh, I was excited too. That kept me going at first. Helped me hide my fear. But the more I thought about it, the more questions I had. So I went looking for another sign.”
“What did you find?” Suli asked.
“A crane. Graceful and beautiful. It flew down into N’Uata and came back up again.” She paused to compose herself. “Just like I would have,” Nani said, softly blinking away tears. “Just like you will…” She forced her mouth into a smile.
“So…” Suli paused. “You believe it?” Her eyes were hungry, desperate for an answer. She was like a mother, searching for a child who has wandered alone into the woods.
“Yes,” Nani said. “It was enough for me that day. It could be enough for you, too.”
Suli closed her eyes before throwing her arms around Nani. “Thank you,” she said, crying again. “For everything. You are far braver than I will ever be. Ki’Kiri isn’t done with you yet, I think.” Nani did not necessarily agree, but she remained silent.
You planted the crops, then harvested what grew. Complaining about the yield would help no one.
Suggested music for Part 7: Vermillion Pt. 2 by Slipknot
Keep reading! Part 8 is ready, for you!
Like what you see? Feel free to subscribe to get notified when something new pops out of my brain.
Already subscribed? Like, share, comment, and put on your sunglasses; you’re part of the cool kids club.
This is quickly becoming my favorite story that I’ve read on here so far