2 Pretending is not Believing

Yaldo sat on top of the old shattered tower, legs dangling. A soul could see all Tharaxis from up high, or at least, most of it. It stretched as far as he could see in all directions, a vast ocean of buildings, some reaching the dark swirling clouds, others squashed like bugs. Yaldo remembered bugs. He remembered a lot of things, though he thought most of the others couldn’t. It made him sad sometimes to think that they’d forgotten their lives, the people they’d loved.

He tried not looking down at the streets below, concentrating on the horizon. He wouldn’t admit it to his friends, but he didn’t like looking at the dead, because then he remembered he was dead too. With his friends he could pretend they were all alive and off on an adventure.

Sometimes, he wondered if he was dead. His friend Kael didn’t know, but thought it was likely. How was he supposed to know anyways? So it was that with his friends, he often pretended otherwise. Pretending was good. His friend Aiyana was the best at it.

‘I don’t think they’ll come today,’ muttered Kael beside him. The other boy was always sulking, glowering at everything and everyone. Except at Yaldo of course. Sometimes, he’d even smile when they were together. Kael was glowering now, though.

‘You know, Kael, I don’t think they’ll ever come. It was all lies, like I told you it was. What you said they were called again?’

‘Angels,’ the other boy answered. ‘They is great and powerful beings with humongous white wings. They is going to swoop down one of these days and snatch us right out of Tharaxis. Then they’ll fly us off somewhere nice, somewhere beautiful where they can’t find us.’

They, meant the eaters, of course. Everyone in Tharaxis knew about those, except maybe them who were too far gone. There were a lot of lost souls who wandered the streets babbling to themselves. Of course, the eaters came for them too, but sometimes they ignored those, going after the ones who ran. They seemed to like to hunt. Yaldo and Kael had often pretended to be dumb, muttering while banging their heads off walls. The eaters had flown right past each time. Yaldo almost always seemed to escape, and since Kael was with him, he did too.

Both boys fantasied about things like angels, or a warrior in thick shining armour who’d arrive into the city wielding a giant notched sword. Kael said he’d have a massive bow too, with arrows thicker than their arms, to shoot down the eaters before they got close, but Yaldo thought that was dumb. Arrows weren’t going to be enough. It would have to be a magic sword, to cut them in two, and that was that.

Kael claimed he’d lived on a world called Eldora, a place that had been far from where Yaldo had come from. At least, it sounded far. They both remembered being alive, sort of, but they were starting to forget bits. Yaldo guessed it was because they’d been dead such a long time.

He’d noticed most of the adults in Tharaxis seemed to forget their lives. The younger ones held on longer, though none as long as Yaldo did. He didn’t know the reason for this, but there were some who insisted on hearing stories from the boys. Kael ran away each time, but Yaldo usually told those tales, though he often made stuff up when his memory didn’t work. He liked remembering, except maybe that last bit when he’d died. That was all muddled and scary, filled with darkness, except for the calming voice.

He thought it might have been an angel inside him, speaking to him even as he’d taken control of Yaldo’s body. Possession, Kael said it was called. Then, he’d found himself in Tharaxis. He had no idea how long he’d been there. Nobody cared about time in the city of the dead.

‘No,’ said Kael with a deep frown as he continued staring up into the angry sky. ‘I don’t think they’ll come today neither. Maybe tomorrow though, right?’ He gave his friend a hopeful glance.

Yaldo just nodded, content to let his pal have his dreams. In a way, he envied him. He wished he could believe in something so grand, to be whisked away, saved by flying angels. Oh, he loved talking about it, and making up those stories, but deep down he didn’t believe. Pretending and believing just weren’t the same. Nobody is coming to save us, he thought.

‘We should probably get back inside,’ suggested Kael with a shiver. ‘I got a feeling the eaters will come. Don’t you feel it? I feel it. I think they’re coming.’

‘In a moment,’ said Yaldo, shutting his eyes and enjoying the freedom of being up high. Sure, he could have floated up here and much higher if he’d wanted. They both could have, but they liked climbing the hard way. It made them feel like boys, like living boys.

Up here, Yaldo could pretend. He could lie to himself and imagine his mother below somewhere making bread while his father laboured at the tin quarry, and his brothers and sisters ran squealing around their villa’s courtyard. He could hear them. He even thought he could feel the breeze on his face as he laughed with delight. It was a vivid memory, though he couldn’t tell if he’d made it up. He was afraid he’d lose those memories.

Still, having an imagination was great. He could think anything up and it would become real, if only for a little while. So, he made up other memories and decided those were real too. He guessed it was one of the reasons he hadn’t gone insane. He thought Kael might be a bit closer to it. He remembered stuff too, but not as much as Yaldo. He didn’t laugh as much as Yaldo anymore either, and he often stared up at the sky, waiting for them.

I guess I can’t blame him too much, he thought. Being dead isn’t all that great.

Worse, the soul of his mother wasn’t down there somewhere pretending to make bread, nor was his father or any of his family. He guessed he’d been in Tharaxis a long time, one of the few to last this long if he thought about it, but he’d never found his family. He’d worried that he’d gone and made them up.

He’d managed to explore half of Tharaxis, and the city was humongous. No, his family had to be dead, but they hadn’t arrived when they’d died, or at least, he’d not been able to find them. Had the eaters got them? No, he didn’t want to believe that. It was part of the reason he kept searching the city, climbing, and running through its streets. One day, he’d see them again.

Swinging his legs, Kael said, ‘An eater’s going to get me, you know.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘Yes, I do.’ He then turned his head very slowly, and raised his arm, pointing into the sky. As always, it was a swirling mix of purples and blacks with ghostly lights, not a normal sky, although he didn’t think he could remember one of those. He didn’t need to remember. He just knew.

Through one of the lights, something emerged. Then through another, and another.

The eaters had returned.

To feed.