HELENTIA - ACT I - Part One: Father
Phia massaged thick oils into the cracks of her calloused hands, tied back her ratty hair with some butcher’s twine, and yanked her apron flush with her hips. Dampening a tattered towel, she worked the floorboards and baseboards, the tabletop and chairs, and even the worn edges of the doorframes her two sons marked with their muddied hands. Everywhere they went, she followed behind, scrubbing away the messes, and the memories left inside. When suppertime approached, she moved on from her chores and filled a large pot with salted water on the oven. The hissing and bubbling drowned out the world beyond, as she diced whatever vegetables the barren land and her meager garden deigned to provide. She sliced unripe potatoes and day-old beef scraps into thin strips and cast them in. A splash from the boil burned her skin. In a matter of minutes, the stew was finished, and Phia fell to the floor.
Phia opened the back door, closed her eyes, exhaled, and basked in the sunlight. “Boys, dinner is ready.”
Helentia threw his sibling’s favorite toy into the dirt. “Good, I’m hungry.”
“Don’t treat Kieran that way,” Michael said, picking up the toy soldier.
Phia’s breath shallowed. “Kieran?”
“Like dad.”
Phia turned white as a ghost. She forced the corners of her mouth into half a smile. “Yes, of course.” Clearing her throat, she went on, “Hurry along, Michael. I need to speak with your brother for a moment. He’ll be right behind you.”
Michael eyed Helentia, who scowled at the ground with folded arms. “Yes, ma’am.” He scampered off.
“Helentia?” Phia craned her neck downward to meet her son’s avoidant eyes. She sighed. “Helentia, what did you tell him?”
“He should know his dad’s name.”
“That’s-”
“How could you not tell him!? It’s like you’re trying to make us forget. Well, I won’t. If dad were still here-”
“He’s not here. Believe me when I say you are enough trouble. What’s done is done. Just don’t disappoint your little brother. For whatever reason, he looks up to you.”
Helentia grunted and stormed off.
In the kitchen, Helentia grabbed a spoon and submerged it in the stew.
Phia snatched the spoon. “Helentia, go take your brother to wash up. I’ll have everything ready by the time you get back.” The setting sun bathed the tablecloth in radiant gold as Phia set the table. She brought three empty bowls to the kitchen; two she filled to the top, and the third with a single scoop. Returning to the dining room, she found the boys still absent. The sun was lower now, its radiant glow turned blood red. She laid the bowls down, lowered into her seat, and buried her face in her arms.
Outside, Helentia pulled up a full water bucket from the well and washed his hands.
“I can’t reach,” Michael said, jumping up and down.
Helentia lifted Michael up. “Be quick about it. I’m starving.”
Michael’s hands skimmed the surface and Helentia lowered him. “I need more.”
“Just forget it.”
“Mom said-”
“Never mind that, just dry off.”
“You be nice to that boy now. He’s all you’ve got,” Phia shouted from the kitchen window.
The dining room was dark now. Helentia pulled out his dad's old chair and took a seat on his mother's left. Michael skipped in sparkling clean and sat to her right. Phia lit a beeswax candle in the center of the table, and, joining hands, the three sang a few words together.
“Through the thick and the thin, you protected us then. Watch over us now as the day becomes dim. Hold our hearts in your loving arms and keep us safe from all bodily harm.”
Phia opened her eyes and looked at Helentia. “Would you like to add anything?”
Michael raised his hand. “I would. Thank you for the best mom and big brother in the whole world.”
“Very well done, Michael.”
“The food’s getting cold. Come on, let’s eat.” Helentia dug into his stew.
As dinner wrapped up, Michael let out a huge yawn. “Somebody is sleepy,” Phia said as she cleared the boy’s dishes.
“No, I’m not.” Michael yawned again.
“Come on, big boy.” Phia picked up Michael and took him to his room.
“Mom, can you read us a bedtime story?” Michael murmured, half asleep in his mother’s arms.
Phia tucked Michael in. “Of course. What story would you like to hear?”
Helentia strayed in, climbing into his bed and pulling the covers over his face.
Michael scanned the array of books on the shelf next to his bed. “The Lost Seagull.”
“Not The Lost Seagull again; we hear that one every night.”
Phia leaned over to Helentia and whispered, “Quit your whining. He won’t make it through the whole thing.” Phia began reading, and sure enough, Michael was out cold before she finished the first page. “Sweet dreams, my little angel.” She kissed Michael’s forehead. Glancing over at Helentia, she caught him spying from underneath the sheets.
“Mom, I love you.”
“Get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.” Phia kissed Helentia’s forehead and blew out their bedside candle.
Helentia woke from restless sleep to faint screaming outside his window. He rushed out of bed to check the window and saw their neighbor’s house up in flames. A cyclone of fire and smoke billowed like a great pillar holding the heavens. “Wake up, Mikey.” Michael wouldn’t budge. “Come on, we got to go.” The sound of breaking glass came from outside their room. Goosebumps riddled Helentia’s body from head to toe. “Mom?” He left his brother and tiptoed into the hallway, where two shadows loomed in what light spilled from the kitchen. He looked down on his trembling hands and clenched them tighter and tighter until his fear turned to rage. Focusing straight ahead, he marched onward. A large black horse stood proudly. Atop the horse sat a man cloaked in all black. Helentia fixed his gaze on the head of his mother, Phia, severed from her body and held up by the hair. Her killer admired his trophy with a crooked grin before tossing it to the pool of blood below. “Was this the girl we were looking for?” A dark presence entered the room.
“Yes... that was my wife.”
The familiar voice resonated through Helentia’s bones. An unnatural light shot out from the darkness, leaving him clawing at his burning eyes. He peeked through the spaces between his fingers, affording him a glimpse of the monstrous silhouette towering over the room. Helentia shuddered. ‘Surely not?’ He asked himself. The child slowly raised his head and looked deep into the eyes of this monster. It was Helentia’s father... Kieran.
rip phia. she just wanted to make stew
Great opening. I'd like to read more! I hope you're writing the next chapter already. I write epic fantasy too, that was very gripping. :D