Vesper Service

Mom and Dad say I’m special.
They say I’m not like the other kids. I have a mark on my hand in the shape of a circle, and every night they hold the mark up to my face and tell me that it is what makes me unique.
They take my brother and me to the park every day to watch them play on the playground. I see them laughing as they swing on the metal bars and climb up the ladders. I imagine what it would be like to experience that. I tell Dad I want to join the others, but he tells me that I can’t.
Dad says I have a greater purpose.
They say I need to stay away from these children. They will corrupt my mind and poison my heart.
I ask why my brother can play on the playground. They say he isn’t special like me.
I watch the others come and go, and I wish I could go with them. But Mom says I have to save that for playdates. I haven’t had one in a long time, though.
Sometimes, Mom goes over to the other parents and talks to them. I don’t move. I don’t know what will happen if I do. She tells me I shouldn’t, so I don’t. I never hear what they say to each other.
My brother always leaves with one of his friends. Mom and Dad and I always sit and wait.
Sometimes, Mom and Dad will stay long after everyone leaves, just looking at the playground. I want to tell them that we need to leave, but they never listen. Even when it is too dark to see, they stay.
We only go home when the moonlight shines on the red plastic of the playground.
----
Every night I try to sleep, and forget that I cannot live a life like the other kids.
But I cannot.
Every night Mom and Dad yell at my brother, keeping me awake. My nightlight shines bright into my eyes, making them tear. I sometimes hear loud bangs coming from my brother’s room, and then his crying.
I wonder if it is because my brother isn’t special. I ask Mom why this happens, and she says it is only to protect me.
I do not understand.
I do not think I will ever understand.
----
I have a playdate today.
This is the first time I have had time to spend with a friend this week. I started having playdates a few weeks ago, when Mom and Dad finally said I could see the other kids. I have had a lot of fun playing with them. We mostly use my LEGO sets and paper pads. Sometimes they bring their own toys to play with, like remote-control cars and painting sets. Mom and Dad are excited, and tell me that I will have lots of fun. I am excited, too.
The doorbell rings. A young girl stands in the doorway, with her parents standing behind her. She smiles at me and says hello.
Mom and Dad take her inside for me to play with. As we go into the playroom, I hear the other parents come in, and Mom and Dad close the door.
The girl and I do have fun together. We play with LEGOs, draw on the color pad, and sculpt with the Play-Doh. It goes as well as any playdate. I like her.
In the other room I hear the parents talking, using many words I can’t understand. I catch a few, which mostly say how my brother has been misbehaving. I hear them talk about adult things, like “tax-exempt organization approval” and “attendance at the communal meeting.” I don’t remember a lot of what they say.
The playdate ends when Mom comes in and tells me I have to take my medicine, like always. This is how most of my playdates end. Dad tells me the other kids don’t want to see me take it.
The other parents take the girl into the Other Room. I sit waiting while they get it ready. Soon, they bring in the tube of medicine. Dad pinches my nose and holds my mouth open while Mom pushes the liquid into my mouth. It tastes warm and gooey, and hurts my throat as I swallow. The mark on my hand throbs as it flows down into my stomach.
They take me up to my room like always and tell me to rest. I hear the door open and close downstairs, and Mom telling the parents something about “tomorrow’s service.” I wonder what will happen tomorrow. Maybe Mom and Dad will let me have another playdate? I am excited. Mom and Dad always use code words when talking about something special.
I only hear two sets of footsteps on the sidewalk outside.
----
As I play with my toys after lunch, my brother tells me that I am sick. He tells me that I have to take the medicine to keep me from hurting people. He says that people do not like me.
Later, I ask Mom and Dad if my mark means I am sick. They look at each other and tell me that my mark is a sign of health and goodness, not sickness. They tell me that my brother is unworthy of my gift, and that he is not pure like I am. They say he is just jealous.
I climb into bed that night feeling sorry that he cannot be as special as I.
----
As I lie awake, I suddenly hear my door slamming open. A shadow appears in the doorway, light arcing around it. As it emerges, I see it is my brother. He comes running in, holding a knife in his hand.
I have just enough time to see his face as he runs toward me. I expect him to be angry as he always is, but I see a terrible, scared look in his eyes. Tears are streaming down his face, not out of sorrow, but out of fear.
I scream and shut my eyes as he thrusts his hand towards my chest.
Suddenly, Mom and Dad are there. They are holding him back, yelling at him and trying to pry the knife from his hands.
As Dad drags him out of the room, Mom comes up to me and says that everything will be okay. She gives me my medicine and everything goes dark.
----
I wake up to the sound of many voices chanting at once.
I open my eyes to see myself standing in a dark room, naked on top of a large stone shape.
My brother is there. He is lying down below me, his mouth covered with cloth. He is struggling to free himself from a series of ropes that binds him.
Behind him is a row of people I do not know. They are dressed in dark clothes, their mouths moving in unison as a single piercing bellow arises from their combined voices. Among them I can see the parents of the girl I had a playdate with yesterday. I recognize several other faces of parents of children I have had playdates with in the past, and some which I do not recognize. None of my friends are with them.
I see Mom and Dad at either side of the stone, their arms raised in the air. I see a knife in each of their hands.
The bellow comes to a sharp point, making my head hurt, and then stops. I look down into my brother’s eyes and see him staring at me, eyes too dry to cry. I do not know what he is trying to tell me with his look.
Mom and Dad plunge the knives into my brother, who tries to yell, but cannot. All is silent for a moment.
Then, the medicine begins oozing out of his body, slow and smooth. My mark begins to light up, like a nightlight inside my skin. I do not remember this happening before.
The medicine rises into the air in tiny droplets. My head starts to hurt even more as the liquid floats upwards, forming many tiny streams, all curving towards me.
The bellow begins again, this time painfully loud. I grab my head with my hands and scream as the noise shoots through my ears.
I close my eyes and hope that the pain will be over soon, but it only gets worse. As my mouth opens wide to allow for my scream to escape, I feel the warm sensation of the medicine touching my lips. I open my eyes to see the streams floating between my lips. I stare at Mom and Dad and wish for them to make the pain go away, but they look at me and smile, once again raising their arms into the air.
The voices get louder and louder, and my ears begin to ring as I swallow the endless rivers of medicine.
And then it stops.
All at once, the people fall quiet, and Mom and Dad lower their arms.
The pain stops. I look down to see the pale blue shape of my brother, sitting still on the ground. I call for him to stand up, but he cannot hear me. I look at my hand to see the mark is no longer lit.
Mom and Dad lift me off the stone and take me out of the room. They help me up a long, winding set of stairs, and lead me to my room.
I lie down in bed, and they tuck me in. As they kiss me goodnight, they say I have another playdate tomorrow. They turn on the nightlight and close the door.
I hear them go down the steps and return to the Other Room, where many different voices begin talking to each other. The noise is soothing.
As I finally close my eyes and fall asleep, I wonder what it would be like if I wasn’t special.
I’m glad I don’t have to worry about that.
I feel like I don’t have to worry about anything anymore.
Category:Ritual
Category:Beings
Category:Dismemberment
Category:Noctevoire