a thousand memories

the witch- 3

“I made you something special,” she said.

Baron looked at the restaurant owner, seeing the familiar excitement, and nodded. He sat down in the same chair at the same table, and watched her disappear into the darkness on the other side of the doorway.

This brief gap, while she was gone to bring him food, after she left and before she returned, was all he had. Precious few minutes.

After the first time, he couldn’t get her out of his head. That night, he dreamed of the plains and the castle and the blood. And, he felt this stinging, warm current starting from his heart and flowing outward, through all of his body.

The next morning, he woke up feeling like he’d been in the plains all night. Like he fell asleep on the rough earth, the grass around him, acting like a blanket. The open sky teasing him like a night lamp and soothing him to sleep. He woke up mentally refreshed and rejuvenated, but physically not in the best condition. The rough earth was no match for the comfortable bed and mattress at home.

Still, he was fine. He could manage.

And then, come afternoon, he had to leave home. He had to walk to the old market. He had to go to the little restaurant. He had to walk in. He had to see her smiling wide at him, her eyes glowing from excitement. He had to hear her greeting, and nod in reply. And, only then, could he feel calm.

He sat in the same chair. At the same table. She served him food. She herself drank tea. They had the meal together, in silence. And then, she walked him out. He left, with a silent goodbye.

That night, he was back on the plain. Sitting on the earth. Looking northward, at the high peaks. The white caps shone under the night sky, reflecting star light. Like a garland around the sky’s neck. The gentle breeze brought with it the scent of distant places. Familiar scents, that he couldn’t quite place, that he couldn’t even remember fully. And, the castle sat behind him. With her behind the window on the third story. Looking out. At him. At the plains. Into the distance, beyond him. Not the mountains. Not that distant. Somewhere in between.

And so was formed the routine. Days turned to weeks.

He told his brother he’d made a friend. Told him about the pretty owner of the little restaurant. Laughed as his brother teased him about having a crush on this pretty woman.

“I’ve never heard that description from you,” his brother teased. “Calling a woman pretty. And, laughing. She must be really pretty. And, you must have feelings for her. A crush, at the very least. Maybe more. Maybe you’re actually falling for her. What do you think? She’s the one? That you were fated to meet?”

He laughed with his brother. But, the words stayed in his mind. Fate? Someone he was supposed to meet? When he remembered her reaction to him, he couldn’t shake off the words as nothing. Felt like there might be some truth to them.

She came back, holding a different tray. One that looked grander. Seemed more important. Seemed like a ceremonial tray. On it were two bowls. No pot. No mugs. No tea. Just the two bowls. The two dishes.

“I made Ichpeya,” she said.

The name brought back memories, with a sting like he’d been stabbed in the head with a syringe and the memories were injected into his head.

Ichpeya was a ceremonial dish. Prepared on special days, as an offering for the goddess. There were rules. Even for the preparation. The chef had to take a bath, wash their bodies whole. Then, offer prayers to the goddess. And only then begin cooking.

The first bowl had to be offered to the goddess. Offering prayers. Hoping for her blessing.

The second bowl to the host of the house. Showing respect.

Then, everyone was served.

He had always loved Ichpeya. It was one of the few times when he didn’t complain, or mutter complaints soundlessly, about the ceremonial rules. The dish, the heavenly taste, more than made up for any complaints he could have.

Ichpeya was even tastier at the castle, eating with her.

She sat at the head of the long crystal table in the majestic castle. He sat on her right. She ate with her left hand. Her right holding his left. And he ate with his right hand.

“This way, we show respect to each other,” she said. “We show respect to the relationship. We show how much we mean to each other.”

He didn’t complain. Pushed his fingers between hers, interlocking them. And then, getting washed away in her smile.

The restaurant was much smaller than the castle. The table was a lot smaller than the crystal table. She was sitting across the table from him. Their hands staying apart.

But, it was the same Ichpeya. The bowl of steaming rice and the bowl of steaming curry. He took a spoonful of the curry, mixed it with the rice, and put it into his mouth. It was the same taste. He felt something stirring in his chest. He felt tears welling up in his eyes. And then, the spoon sped up.

She didn’t say much today. After he was done. She walked him out. Paused by the open door. Still silent.

He felt stuffy.

“It was amazing,” he said. “The Ichpeya.”

She nodded, smiling at him.

He nodded at her. And started for home. She closed the door after he began walking away.

He was almost home when it hit him. When he finally realised it. She was smiling at him. That’s all it was. A smile. She wasn’t beaming at him. She didn’t see him like she did previously.

He was confused. But, there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t get the answers until tomorrow. Until he went to the restaurant again. He could only swallow the questions.

That night was different, too. He was back in the plains. The night was bright. The moon shining bright in the night sky, drowning out the stars. Filling the land below with so much brightness, the night turned into day, the evening of a day with the sky overcast with dark clouds heavy with rain. The grass was green. The air was cold, and clean. There was no blood. There were no bodies. He wasn’t looking at the distant peaks, but at the castle. He was much closer to the castle. So close he could look inside. On the first story, through the tall window, he saw the long crystal table. He saw the two people sitting at the table, holding hands, smiling at each other, and eating. He could smell the dish, he could see it. Ichpeya. He looked up at the sky. The full moons looked down at him. One white like the snow of the peaks in the north. The other blue like the waters of the seas in the south. And he knew why. Why Ichpeya today. The moons were full. The goddesses rode their chariots, down to the earth, to the mortal plane. Visiting their followers. Accepting the prayers. Offering their blessings. Before returning to their heavenly realm. The mortal followers of the goddesses offered their prayers along with Ichpeya, the favourite dish of the goddesses.

He looked around. Searching the skies for any sign of the goddesses, any sign of the heavenly chariots. Found none. Either he was a mortal too ordinary, discarded by the goddesses, so he couldn’t see anything heavenly related to them. Or, those were all tales passed down through generations. He didn’t care which.

He turned his head back toward the castle. Toward the window. Expecting to see the same sight. But, he saw something else entirely. She was by the window. The haze covering her form, showing only a vague outline. But, her eyes were clear. Her eyes couldn’t be clearer. Deep violet eyes. With silver sparks, threatening to fly out at him. She was staring at him. Her gaze filled with wrath. Glaring at him.

And then, her hand moved.

He woke up, back in his bed, at his home. Feeling cold. Some of it was her eyes, her gaze, that hatred directed at him. But, the rest was something else. A coldness coming not from outside, but from within him. And that startled him more.

He couldn’t wait until afternoon. He needed answers. He needed to see her.

He left for the little restaurant.

Only, he kept walking, and walking. Longer than every day. He should be in the old market by now. But, he wasn’t. He couldn’t see him home behind him. He couldn’t see the old market in front. He wasn’t sure how far he’d gotten. He couldn’t understand how this could be possible. How could he have been walking so long and still not gotten to the old market? Did he take a wrong turn somewhere along the way? Did he get lost, along the familiar route? Was it something else?

No. It was something else. He was sure of it because he could smell it in the air. He was still in the familiar city. But, he could smell the grass, the plains in the air.

Was he losing his mind?