Chapter 101: Day 100

Day 100,

This will be my last entry in this journal.  I’m almost out of pages.  Fortunately the archive has a small stockpile of blank books and I’ve taken one with me to use as my next volume starting tomorrow.

I suppose more details on yesterday are in order.  Even if I am beginning to tire of writing about it.  Most of my day today’s been taking official records of things that happened yesterday that I wasn’t there for.  List of everyone that dressed as a shade, whether to begin with or from capture.  Winners of games.  Some guy’s bet that he could finish five bowls of soup in as many minutes (he actually did it, the absolute mad lad).  That sort of thing.

Oh, also, before I forget to mention it, the wax tablets are in.  The waxmaker, Bertram, brought them with him when he came to town for the festival yesterday but didn’t get around to actually delivering them until this morning.  I should try getting some practice using those myself before I try teaching kids to write with them.

But back to the festival itself.  My own experience with it at least.

As I said before, soon as the real shades melted into the cobblestones, I emerged from the library to spend the morning as a “shade,” moving from shadow to shadow in search of “victims.”  With how narrow and winding the streets are I had a fair degree of mobility at first (well, aside from being hard to run without tripping in the costume, but then again, shades are normally a bit slow), but it didn’t take long for my territory to become limited.  It was still enough to catch a few festival goers, although I suspect most of them got caught on purpose.  They all had some knick knack or treat that they seemed to have brought with them for the express purpose of offering up to the sack, so no pawning my role off early.  

The kids all screamed when I started shambling up to them, especially if I just stood perfectly still for a few minutes beforehand, but it was always the excited/surprised scream of a child at play more than true terror.  The adults, especially the ones with kids, all made a big show of pretending to be afraid and asking me to please let them pass by in peace.  It was the older kids and teens that liked showing off how brave they were by running up into my shadows and then running back out, particularly once I became confined to one particular bend in the street.  It was most satisfying smacking one of them in the back with the sack when he thought he was just out of my reach.  Not enough to hurt, but enough to cause him to yelp and jump and surprise and his friends to laugh while he sheepishly made an offering.

And then noon arrived and with it that curious phenomenon when equinox meets equator.  For once the sun truly was directly overhead.  The apex of the sky’s vault.  The centerpoint of the target Cloud Tower sought to impale.  At such an orthogonal solar alignment there could be no angle to shadows, and thus for any object without overhanging, suspended parts, seemingly no shadows at all.  Even for people, our shadows were reduced to pale blobs visible only if we lifted our feet or stretched out our arms.  So evenly lit, there was a strange sort of flattening to everything, especially the buildings and cobblestones.  One cannot truly appreciate the role shadows play in our sense of scale and depth perception until you have a moment without them.

It was also my cue to leave.  As a few passerbys noted, breaking me out of my moment of wonder and sending me fleeing from the spot that no longer had shade to shelter and imprison this “shade.”

By some miracle I didn’t get lost on my way to the market forum, nor was I even the last “shade” to arrive and strip off their veils as musicians began to play.  There were faces I could recognize among them, but none that I could put names to.  

From the description I’d been given, I expected us to be inverting our sacks all at once, throwing their contents onto those who had gathered like splashing a bucket of water.  Instead we took a more measured approach, tossing out sweets a handful at a time and giving out the slightly more fragile items directly, usually to children.  It drew out the spectacle and gave stragglers a time to arrive and partake of the treats.

Normally I wouldn’t care to be at the center of a show like this - and it really was a center for my fellow ex-shades and I soon found ourselves moving about within a broad circle the crowd had formed on all sides - but the music helped.  As did having two dozen or so others in the same situation to diffuse the attention and give me leads to follow.  We fell into a rhythm, nearly dance, exaggerating our steps to match the beat, spinning our whole bodies as we loosed our gifts of sweets to spread them into flying fans, leapt toward children bowed low and retrieved toys from our sacks with flourishes.  There was a part of my mind that found everything I was doing awkward and silly, and knew that I certainly had less grace than I thought I had or perceived the other ex-shades to have, but I could see that everyone around was happy and that made the inner-voice easy to ignore.

Eventually - was it better measured in seconds or minutes? - we scrapped the bottoms of our bags, waited for the music to reach the crescendo we could all feel approaching and inverted the sacks in (roughly) unison, tossing out the last of their contents and dispelling the final signs of the shades as the lumpy droplets of night became shimmering motes of swirling colors that caught the light when we threw them into the air.  This in turn was the cue for those so inclined from the crowd to join in the circle and dance to the musicians’ new song, while the rest either stayed to watch or dispersed to start up other activities.

As for myself, Lin and Cass had picked me out of the shades/candy-givers/dancers and made a beeline toward me as soon as the crowd started moving.  Lin was her usual excitable self, congratulating me, asking how I was liking things, and complimenting me on my choice of outfit and its contrast to the shade robes (an outfit she helped me pick out if I recall).  Meanwhile Cass just handed me a piece of candy and mumbled something about how with being the one to hand the stuff out I didn’t get any for myself.  And then of course ruined the moment after I thanked her by making a cheeky remark about how it’s supposed to be the adults who give children sweets for a job well done and not the other way around.

Around that time I realized how tired, thirsty, and hungry I was after all that and they took me to go find some manner of lunch, pausing briefly for Cass to wave at her parents and do a bunch of hand gestures and pointing at me to indicate where she was going that got nods and waves of assent back.

We spent most of the rest of the day walking about the Village and beach in a group.  Taking in the decorations, listening to musicians, watching performers (how one juggles clams without their hands being torn to shreds remains a mystery), partaking in games I still don’t understand the rules of, and reminiscing on past festivals.  Apparently Lin had been a “shade” a few years back and we commiserated a bit on how hot it wound up getting under the robe of veils.  A few times we ran into old friends of Lin’s or kids Cass had gone to school with (could we call what I’m going to be doing in a month or two “school”?  Now that I think of it, there really isn’t much formal education here beyond some basic literacy and math) during which they’d stop and chat or temporarily merge groups while I retreated to the back as an awkward third party.

We tracked down Vernon too (easy enough with the bracelets), but like I mentioned yesterday, he was too busy for much more than a short break with us.

Happened to run into Pat briefly as well.  Nice little talk as usual before he told us younguns to go out and enjoy ourselves and not worry about an old man who’s seen it all before.  I asked if his great-grandkids had come to visit the Village proper for the festival, but he just laughed, said not this year and shooed us off telling us to go have fun and dropping in a word of encouragement about my upcoming telling that evening.

As we got out of earshot Lin asked what I was talking about with Pat’s great-grandkids.  Said that everyone knows he doesn’t have any living relatives.  I said that back when I first met him he mentioned I reminded him of them, but that since I hadn’t seen any sign of them since I’d assumed they lived in the far outskirts or something.

Were it not for the reminder that I had my own public performance to give rapidly approaching, we might have pondered that a bit more.  As it was, now that it had been brought up - however encouragingly it was meant - I now couldn’t stop worrying about it.  To their credit, Cass and Lin did what they could to calm me down, even offered to listen while they got me to give a practice run of an abridged version of the story and found me some more food so I wouldn’t be going on stage on an empty stomach.

And so as the sun began its descent and the returned shadows grew longer, we made a detour back to the library for me to change into those clothes I’d come to think of as my “official uniform” and then on down to waterfront where a stage, seating, and braziers of crystals had been set up.

With the sky pink from sunset, a senior mediator I hadn’t personally interacted with took the stage, simultaneously welcomed and thanked everyone for both their participation and attendance in festival, said some words about the turning of seasons and celebrating time together and time out and about before the rains drive us indoors and apart, and then introduced a band to come onto the stage and start off this last leg of the festivities.

I barely heard much of the music that followed.  Too wrapped up in my head fretting over my turn on stage that came all too soon.  Didn’t even notice when they stopped playing and the mediator took the stage and probably said some things about me until Cass elbowed me in the ribs and whispered at me to get up there.

While being part of a group putting on a show for an already excited crowd was energizing, fun even, being alone on stage with all eyes on me, expecting me to do something I had no real training or proficiency in was, in a word, agonizing.  I’ll confess, I froze up at first.  And then when I did finally start speaking it was too fast.  Or stuttering to a halt before starting again.  I scanned the crowd for familiar friendly faces for encouragement but it was all just a blur of people to me.  I forced myself to power through it.  Eventually I managed to settle into some sort of rhythm.  A flow state.  Even if it wasn’t a strong or steady one.  The rest of the night is frankly a blur for me.  I reached a point where even looking straight forward I no longer really saw the crowd, or was really comprehending my surroundings much more than just enough to not fall off the stage.  Not really even that aware of the words coming out of my mouth other than the exact one I was making at any given moment.  I was pacing, sweating, not making eye contact.  Part of me knew I shouldn’t be doing those things.  I ignored it.  Just getting through mattered.  Would be enough.  Keep saying that next word.  Hitting that next beat.

Until there was silence.

I had run out of words.

I’d reached the end.

After far too long

Someone 

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Clapped.

Others

Joined in.

Slowly, but it happened.

I probably should have bowed.

I think I just sort of nodded and smiled.

Something like a smile anyway.  Maybe a gesture.

Shaking, I made my way off the stage, down the stairs, while the senior mediator came up the other side.  Vernon, bless him, caught me at the bottom and offered an arm to help steady me.  Walked me over to the back of the crowd and off to the side a bit.  Said I did great.  Asked me if I was alright.  I probably insisted I was.  My eyes might have been a bit wet.

Pat took the stage next.  The most formal ceremony of the festival.  The crystals went out.  Well, covered, probably.  Torches were lit.  So rare to see fire used for light here.  Funny that.  Words were said.  Not sure what.  More people came on stage.  Not sure who.  There was something that felt like a prayer or thanksgiving.  Don’t know to whom or to what.

Really wish I remembered it better.  Had paid more attention.  Was too busy trying not to hyperventilate.  Or vomit.  Or cry.  Too many thoughts of how bad I’d been swirling around my head to let any new information in for processing.

I realized the ceremony was over.  Realized Lin and Cass had come over.  Realized Vernon hadn’t left my side.  They all asked if I was alright.  I tried to say I wasn’t.  That I was awful.  That the clapping was pitying and condescending.  That I had no idea what I was doing.  That I didn’t belong here.  That I didn’t deserve friends.

I said I was fine.  Just a bit of stage fright, but it had passed now.

They all told me I’d done a good job.  A rough start, sure, but good once I got going.

Perhaps seeing us all crowded together, Pat came by too.  Congratulated me on my first public telling.  Said he knows it’s hard the first time, but not to worry.  That everyone knows I’m new at this and thrust into strange circumstances.  That no one was expecting perfection out of me.  That even with all that I showed promise for how I could grow and become great in the future.

Did he really mean that or was he just trying to comfort me?  Does he give a similar speech to every outsider to try to get them to better accept their role?

I thanked him.  Told him it meant a lot to me.  Told all of them that their words and actions meant a lot to me.  That they did.

Lin started pulling all of us into a group hug around then.  Vernon helped her with it.  Part of me wanted to rip myself away from it and flee.  Part of me wanted them to never let go.

Pat ended the moment, joking that it was getting to be past bedtime for old men like him.  And children too, he added as he somehow picked James and Antigone out of the crowd and waved them over.  A few of Cass’s siblings were with them too I think.  Cass said something about not being a child.  Pat said something about that being a shame and childhood being something to treasure.

Thus started the parting of ways for the night.  With Cass returning to her family (Norman and Marva’s would be crowded tonight) and Pat back to his house (he insisted he was fine making his way back on his own and brooked no argument).

As for the remaining three of us, smaller, scattered revelries continued late into the night.  Some calmer, some wilder.  A welcome distraction from my own thoughts until those thoughts could become less harsh.

When Lin and Vernon finally walked me back to the library on their own ways home they asked me twice more at the door if I was sure I was fine spending the night alone.  Twice more I said I was.  I made one more entry in this journal as pre-bedtime habit and slept without dreaming.

Now I’m  back at the house.  James and family gave me a ride in the evening on their way back to the farm.  Cass had taken the opportunity to spend another day apprenticing in the archive with me.  As much as I’m glad for the solitude right now, I appreciated the company at the time.

It’s funny.  Sometimes alone with my thoughts is the worst thing to be.  Other times it’s the best.  Just need to not mix those times up.

And so ends one hundred days.  Like fifty, it feels like it should be a landmark.  Feels like so much has happened since I woke up on the beach, but at the same time, so little.  Feels like a long time, but when I stop to think about it, it’s not even a third of a year.  Barely a season.

Ninety nine days ago I looked in the mirror, didn’t recognize myself, and cried tears of joy without knowing why.  I still don’t know why, but now that reflection really does register as me and regardless of any other strangeness about this place that makes me question my senses that feels right.

Still, this place, while peaceful and mostly nice, isn’t perfect.  And neither am I.  And I’d be worried if either of those things were the case.

And on that note, I really don’t feel like dealing with people after the past couple days.  Think I’m going to take a day to myself tomorrow.  Best enjoy it now before the rainy season hits and I’m stuck in a room full of children for hours each day.

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