บท 8: strange dream
In the midst of the thick fog, Zia's surroundings were obscured, a thick blanket of mist muting any hint of familiarity. As she rose, the ground beneath her felt chillingly damp against her bare skin, each step leaving a lingering coldness.
Her senses were assaulted by the noxious air, a sickly blend that made her head spin. The putrid scent teased at her nostrils, forcing her to cover her nose with trembling hands as she ventured forward, cautious and disoriented.
Somewhere in the distance, voices carried through the dense air, a bizarre chorus of indistinct murmurs that only heightened her anxiety. The darkness that cloaked the surroundings seemed impenetrable at first, but gradually, Zia's eyes adjusted, revealing unsettling details in the obscured landscape.
The ground, once she dared to touch it, felt slick and unpleasant, an oily residue clinging to her fingertips. Each passing breath of air against her skin sent shivers down her spine, an unsettling sensation that seemed to prick at her nerves.
When the footsteps approached, panic seized her, propelling her to seek refuge behind a jagged rock formation. Huddled against it, her grip on her dress tightened as she braced herself, her heart pounding in her chest.
The command that sliced through the silence was chilling, a deep and authoritative voice that demanded answers. "Who are you?" it resonated, the words echoing in the darkness and sending a chill down her spine.
Yet, as she turned to face the figure, the darkness veiled his features, shrouding him in an ominous silhouette. His towering stature instilled a sense of foreboding, intensified by the steady, rhythmic dripping of crimson liquid from his hands to the ground below.
In the dimness, his fingers appeared elongated and almost claw-like, the blood glistening upon them as if freshly drawn. The sight sent a chill down her spine, each drop echoing with an unsettling rhythm.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he extended his hands toward Zia, the glint of something sharp catching the scarce light available, casting a menacing gleam into the darkness.
Zia's eyes snapped open, the dream fading into the morning light. Sitting up, she glanced around, reassured by the familiarity of her own bed. A dream? It felt all too real, her mind murmured as she wiped the beads of sweat from her brow with a sigh.
Exiting her room, she found Will arranging fruits, and his gestures conveyed breakfast was ready. She nodded in acknowledgment and made her way toward him.
"Breakfast is ready, you get fresh and come eat it," his actions spoke. I nodded back, grateful for his thoughtfulness.
"Should we do some work today? Or precisely all the work?" he proposed as we ate. I nodded in agreement, understanding his intent.
After our meal, I washed the dishes while he hinted at starting the day's tasks. We moved to the laundry next, gathering clothes near the water pump. Among them, I held the dress stained with my mother's blood.
"This is your mom's blood, right?" Will's words cut through the silence. I nodded, unable to voice my confirmation.
He gazed at it for a moment, silently absorbing the gravity of the situation. "Oh! I soaked some soap nuts over there; can you bring it?" he diverted, breaking the tension.
I fetched the bowl, observing the soap nuts with curious fascination. "Something piqued your interest?" he questioned. I pointed to the bowl, indicating my lack of knowledge.
"You don't know these?" He looked surprised at my ignorance. I shook my head in response.
"Tell me, how did your mom use to wash clothes?" he inquired, a hint of amusement in his tone. Rushing inside, I retrieved my notes, illustrating her methods.
"Soap nut leaves?" he questioned, puzzled. I nodded, realizing this might be something new for him.
"Found near the Hirachies hill," I conveyed through my notes, the astonishment evident in his expression.
Zia eagerly wrote the story, reliving the memory etched vividly in her mind.
"Once, near the Hirachies hill, we spotted foam beneath a tree. My mom swiftly cut it down near the root, revealing an abundance of foam and a peculiar, slick texture resembling soap. That's when she began using those tree leaves."
Her excitement radiated as she showed him the account. "Your mom embraced adventurous ways even for laundry," he remarked with a chuckle. "She was always unconventional."
"So, these are soap nuts," he explained, holding them up. "You soak them overnight in water, and they release foam. You can even use this to wash your hair. The more you rub, the more foam they produce."
He observed her fascination with the soap nuts, her curiosity piqued by this newfound knowledge. The discovery of soap nuts opened a new realm of possibilities for Zia, unraveling the mysteries of her mother's inventive methods.
With the laundry done and clothes hung out to dry, Will brought up the topic of house cleaning. "Did you ever clean the house?" he inquired, and Zia shook her head in negation.
"Good... this will be like an exercise for you then," he remarked, an undertone of playful encouragement in his words. "I will change the bedsheets meanwhile, clean the house and here," he continued, handing her the broom, assigning her the task.
Though unable to respond verbally, Zia nodded in acknowledgment, taking the broom with a determined expression. It was a new challenge, a chance to engage in an activity she hadn't attempted before. With a sense of purpose, she set out to tackle the house cleaning, eager to embrace this unfamiliar but invigorating task.
After the arduous housework, both collapsed onto the ground, feeling the strain of their efforts. "Ahh, house works are such a pain. My back hurts," he expressed, massaging his aching back. "I am not doing this again for a few months," he added, to which Zia chuckled in agreement.
"So, you can laugh too, huh," he remarked with a smile, noticing her laughter. Curious about her preferences, he inquired about her favorite food, to which she wrote, "Meat from now on."
"What's that?" he chuckled, bemused by her response. Attempting to understand her likes, he probed further, asking about her favorite things. Zia shook her head in negation, finding it difficult to pinpoint a specific favorite.
"Like any ornaments, dresses, food, or other things you like the most?" he clarified. She pondered for a moment, then hurried inside, returning with a worn-out pencil case. Handing it to him, he opened it to find numerous crayons, paintbrushes, pencils, and an eraser, all well-used and slightly broken.
"You draw?" he asked, surprised by this revelation. She nodded, confirming her passion for art. "I see," he said slowly, taking in this newfound understanding. "Then I will buy you a new artistic tool for your birthday. So when is your birthday?" he inquired.
She wrote in her book, revealing, "Tomorrow." His surprise was evident as he remarked, "Tomorrow? So sudden... If I hadn't asked, you wouldn't have told me, right?" Her smile confirmed his guess.
"Wow, what a neat way," he remarked appreciatively. Eager to learn more about her birthday traditions, he asked about her usual celebration. Zia shared through writing, "My mom would decorate the house with handmade paper crafts, bake a cake, and gift me a star," her face beaming with fond memories.
"A star?" he inquired, puzzled by the concept. Zia nodded enthusiastically, prompting his curiosity further. "What's that?"
"A golden star for my good behavior of the year. They shine so brightly in the night, they are soo... beautiful," she wrote with infectious excitement, her admiration for the stars evident.
Understanding her enthusiasm, he agreed, "I see, okay then let's do that this year too." Rising to his feet, he realized Zia was still seated on the ground. "Why are you still on the ground? Go bring the papers. I don't know how to make them; you should teach me," he requested, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
Her laughter echoed as she stood up, ready to guide him through the process of crafting the stars. This exchange marked a delightful beginning to their shared journey of creating something beautiful together.
"Is it best to fight or die?"
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