Like Birds, Like Wind

Like Birds, Like Wind is a Short Story by BZPower and C.I.R.C.L.E. member Cap'n K focusing on a single night within The Empire of Whenua Alternate Universe.

like birds, like wind
never came home never came home never came home never came home Most Matoran didn’t talk about Meti at all anymore. never came home never came home The truth was—we all knew the stories. Maybe not the same stories, but we all knew what happened to him. never came home Meti was the Matoran who never came home. The words echo over and over again in my head. Karzahni! Why did I let Jaa scare me? It was just a story, after all. But I was awake so late at night that my sleeplessness would put a Vahki to shame. Vira, Jaa, Koputa, and I had all decided that it would be a good idea to take a night off and relax for once. It was a reasonable idea; I had become a nervous wreck with all the stress put on me lately from mask making, and we all agreed that Jaa’s workaholic ways weren’t healthy. We figured that a night off on our own would be refreshing and fun. Oh, how wrong I was. The voice keeps going, of course. never came home never came home never came home I don’t want to turn a light on now. The others are sprawled around me, consumed in sleep. They would wake up if I lit a lamp. It might even attract Vahki. So… there’s nothing to do but sit here, paralyzed in fear. never came home never came home We got bored after a few hours of talking. The sun had just set, and we were excited about the night ahead of us, but we were already bored. “How lame,” Koputa sighed, lifting a small mallet that was lying on my floor and dropping it down again. “It was your idea,” Vira said. “It was just as much yours!” exclaimed the Po-Matoran, lifting the mallet again and tossing it at Vira. Vira narrowly dodged it, but it bounced off the floor and struck Jaa between the eyes. He cringed, but didn’t speak. Jaa was pretty quiet all the time. Ever since the Meti incident, that is. “Hey, I have an idea,” I cut in, breaking the monotony, “We should tell stories!” “Don’t ask me to tell a story,” said Vira, “mine are all boring.” “You were quick to suggest it,” said Koputa, “do you know one?” I pondered about it for a moment. “Yes,” I replied, a narrow grin forming on my face, “But I’ll need to turn the light off for this. It’s pretty creepy. I hope you all can handle it.” Vira grinned. Koputa nodded. Jaa’s face was completely blank. “You all right, Jaa?” I asked before extinguishing the lamp. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” he said emptily. I nodded and turned out the lamp, plunging us into near-darkness. The only light was the light that still lingered outside from the forges that hadn’t yet closed up for the night. I decided to tell my story. I lowered my voice to a dramatic whisper. “Once, there was a Ga-Matoran. She had a pet Keras that she took a lot of pride in… the Keras was well-trained, and the Ga-Matoran often rode it around. One night, she wanted to go out to an Akilini match with her friends, but she never left her Keras alone at night… she decided that getting a friend to watch the Keras for her was the best move. So, she met up with one of her friends, and the friend agreed to watch over the Keras. “Well, the Ga-Matoran’s friend, Atia, went over to the Ga-Matoran’s house and started to watch the Keras for the night. Atia got pretty bored, so she decided to—” “This is the one with the statue, isn’t it?” Vira said dryly. “You’ve heard it?” I said, heart dropping. “We’ve all heard it,” Koputa laughed. “Well, I don’t suppose any of you have any better stories?” I asked. Quiet. “I have a story,” Jaa said, breaking the silence. It was so unexpected that everyone stared at him, the lamp casting odd shadows across his icy mask. His eyes were perfect circles, his mouth a thin line. “What’s your story?” I eventually said lightly. “It’s a real story. Real story.” My heart stopped. The room seemed to get quieter around me. The silence was deafening. Mata Nui, he’s going to talk about Meti, I thought. Jaa stuttered on. “It’s… it’s the story of… it’s the story of Meti. The story of Meti and I.” Jaa was completely silent for a few moments then. His pallid mask was frozen in a gaunt frown. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the Ko-Matoran. He continued. “It happened… it happened one night in this Metru. Meti was working in the forges extra-late. I was… I was taking a day off. I was… I was watching Meti work. It grew dark… it grew dark outside. I was getting impatient. Meti was… Meti was taking too long. It was… it was really quiet and… really quiet and creepy. I kept telling him… telling him I wanted to go home. He kept… saying… ‘just a minute, Jaa. Just a minute.’ I waited… I waited. He took… he took forever. But then he finally finished. We left the forges. The streets were silent. We took… we took a route down a back alley because we… because we were afraid the Vahki would catch us out so late. “We got… we got lost. Really lost. The alleys just seemed to repeat over and over again. It was… it was so quiet. I was… I was so scared. But then there… then there was a voice. A voice. It was singing.” Jaa was silent again. Nobody spoke. We all hung on his word, waiting for the next part of the story. “It was singing. It was beautiful. Beautiful. It was like… like birds. Like running water. Like wind. We didn’t know what to think of it. I thought… I thought I was dreaming. But Meti… Meti heard it, too. We followed the voice. It was so faint, but it got louder and louder. Then the alleys got more and more rough and I knew I was in some part of the Metru that had never… that had never been touched by Matoran before. Either that or… or it was made to look like that. All the buildings and forges… all of them were gone. There were just… trees. Dead trees. Like hands. Everywhere. It got darker and darker. Darker than I thought… than I thought possible. The singing kept going. I broke… I broke the trance and tried to get Meti to turn and run. The singing… the singing got louder. Louder. Louder. Mata Nui, was I afraid. “Meti wouldn’t listen. He just kept walking into the trees. I ran, but Meti didn’t. And he never came home.” Jaa stopped. He seemed to be paralyzed for an indiscernible amount of time. The world was frozen. Everyone was gripped in the icy-cold hands of fear. Finally, I spoke up to break out of the world of silence. “That’s… what happened?” “Never came home…” Jaa whispered, “never came home… never came home.” “Jaa,” said Vira, “You—” “Never came home. Never came home. Never came home.” “Jaa, it’s all right,” I said quietly. The Matoran’s eyes were wider than usual now; they were unnaturally huge. His jaw was slack. “Never came home, never came home, never came home,” Jaa said, this time practically hysterical. I knew right then that scary stories were a bad idea. “Jaa, quiet down. It’s all right.” “Never came home, never, never, never…” Jaa finally fell silent. “Hey, guys,” Vira said nervously, “I think that’s enough for tonight. I’m ready to hit the cogs, I don’t know about all of you.” Koputa agreed, and we all decided to go to sleep, all afraid of the nightmares that awaited us. And that’s how it happened. I’m not sure if everyone else is awake. I just know that I’m paralyzed in fear. Paralyzed wondering if I’ll hear that voice tonight. By the time I fall asleep, the sun has begun to rise. *** It’s the next morning. Jaa is gone. Why am I not surprised? Nobody seems to be. We look halfheartedly for him, the panic welling up inside all of us. Koputa goes off to Ko-Metru by chute to see if he went back home. Vira searches the Ta-Metru forges to see if Jaa is anywhere nearby. I stay home. We all know where he is. In a dark, black forest. I don’t go to the forge all day. I stay locked inside my house. Each hour goes by painstakingly slowly. The heat is immense. I feel like a Ko-Matoran in a furnace. I think I’m getting sick. My eyes hurt. I close them, but can’t sleep. My bones ache. My ears ring. What is going on? Where is Jaa? I’m greeted by darkness and swirls of shadows. never came home never came home never came home never came home never came home never I wake up to lamplight and the weak glow of the dying forges outside. All is quiet for a while. I can’t sleep anymore. I wonder how long I was out. And then… then… I should have known this would have happened. It’s the voice. I know it’s the voice. It’s that voice that got Meti, the one that got Jaa. And now it’s out for me. Jaa was right. It is beautiful. I don’t understand the words, though. All I hear is a murmuring, a murmuring like birds, like running water, like wind. I know better than to follow it. But… I just want to hear it a bit clearer. What’s it saying? I stand up and walk to my door. I still hear the voice singing. I slowly push on the door, the wood beneath my hand burning. The hinges creak. It harmonizes with the voice. It is beautiful. I start to walk out, not bothering to close the door behind me. My feet are in rhythm with the singing. Step, step, step, step, step, step, step, step, step, step. I don’t know how long I’ve been walking. I snap back to myself when I realize that I’m in some alley, and that the voice is much louder than it was before. Where am I? The voice is still unintelligible, but still beautiful. More beautiful than ever. I just want to hear the words. I know the voice is singing something. I’ll stop once I’m at the edges of the Metru. I won’t leave, I’ll just get as close as I can. It can’t hurt me if I don’t go all the way. Step, step, step, step, step, step, step, step, step, step. There are less and less buildings as I go along. I’m on a dirt road. All the stars have vanished, and an unnerving orange moon hangs in the sky. Normally, I’d think the sight of something like that would be amazing. Now, it makes me sick. It’s unnaturally huge. It makes my stomach drop. It looks evil. I don’t understand the voice. I’ll keep walking. The Metru is over, but I don’t see any trees. I’m safe. I’m safe. I’ll just stop at the sight of trees. Mata Nui, that moon is creepy, I think. ''Breathe. Stop it. It’s just a moon. Just a voice. Nothing supernatural behind this. Don’t torture yourself, I think, Jaa’s story wasn’t true. Meti just got lost. He’s probably home right now, safe in bed. We’re all worrying about nothing.'' Something tells me I’m wrong. Of course Meti isn’t safe. He vanished more than a year ago. But something inside of me… something light and sweet and happy… tells me that Meti wasn’t hurt. I listen to the happy thoughts. I can’t be afraid. I just want to hear that beautiful voice. Trees. Jaa was right. They look like hands. Dead hands. Gray hands. Four, five, six, eight, twelve-fingered hands. Inverted, gray lightning coming up from the ground. Holding the evil, orange moon aloft. I want to play in the hands. They would be so fun to climb and jump around in. I just want to see the hands up close… but first, to hear the voice. It’s louder now. The loudest it’s ever been. I walk into the trees. They move around with me. I chuckle delightedly as they tickle my arms, legs, and chest. Deep in the forest, the moon has vanished. All that exists is me and the gray branches and the voice. I still don’t hear the words. I laugh at the trees tickling me. They seem to laugh along with me. Dry, crackling. Like crumpled paper. Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch. They start to hurt. I exclaim in pain. I turn to run away. They’ve begun to lacerate my flesh. The trees are blocking the exit. I try to push through but I’m scratched even more. The branches have grown jagged thorns. I turn back around and start to run through the branches that tear away at me. They pull at the tissue beneath my armor, they blind me and deafen me and choke me. All I hear is the crackling laughter of the trees. And the singing. I push through and then I’m flying through blackness. It’s surreal. Time slows. I’m in harmony with the air and the voice. Reality. I land on the ground, bitter grass filling my mouth. I spit it out and rub my jaw. I notice that the voice has reached a record loudness. It’s now louder than the sounds of a forge filled with hammering mask makers during mid-day. It’s so, so beautiful. I just want to be with the voice. The trees are gone. Now I’m alive with the voice. I stand, and see a statue. It’s a goddess, like a Toa. She looms over me, made of brilliant marble that emanates light all around me. ''It’s so, so pretty. So, so beautiful.'' I know where the voice is coming from. I’m in love with the goddess. She’s facing the other direction, so I shout out to her. The light feeds my voice, my spirit, my soul. “Come to me! Come to me!” I shout. My voice joins hers, and I finally hear her voice clearly. “Never came home, never came home, never came home.” My stomach seems to die. My heart seems to cease. My lungs seem to freeze. My fingers and toes are tingling. My legs won’t work. Is this what the worst fear feels like? Is this knowing that you’re going to die, that you’ll be just like Meti now? Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. The statue spirals slowly, sliding a circle around her stand. Her feet hiss upon the marble base. “Sssssssssss...” I can’t move. My throat feels constricted. The voice becomes sour, vile. “Never came home never came home never came home...” It’s mocking me now. It sounds like a group of naïve Matoran taunting another because he’s afraid to climb the baby Knowledge Tower. It finally turns one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. I see its' face. I’m released from fear’s grasp. Suddenly, the world of living trees seems welcoming—safe—compared to this vile witch. She has a horrible face. It’s a disfigured mask, or parts of several masks, all crudely stitched together. Her mouth hangs open, and it’s dark inside. She wants to put me into that black hole, chew me up just like Meti. I dart off into the forest. The thorns don’t prick me. It seems dead. I’m afraid. I know that the thing is following me. Its' voice still taunts me. The evil moon now looms above, and seems to join in with the goddess’s mockery. ''Never came home! Never came home!'' And I’m finally in a place where all the trees are so tight around me, there’s no place to move. I look around, but they have blocked all ways out. I’m dead. Statue-bones now. I can’t escape. There’s no way. There are voices all around me. Tiny whispers. All saying the same thing. Frantically, in paranoia. They all know I’m doomed just like them. They only have three words to confirm my end: ''Never. Came. Home.'' They all whisper. All their eyes appear, in all different colors, glowing between all the dark tree trunks. Red, green, yellow, orange, blue, white eyes. All whispering in ataxian harmony. never came home never came home never came home never came home Hands made of gray bark spring from the trees around me. They wrap around my arms and legs and chest, pulling at me. Pulling me into the trees with all the other ghosts of the Matoran. I lock gazes with the ghostly eyes of Jaa, then those of Meti. And dozens of others. I’m one of them now. I followed the voice. The arms jutting out of the trees are too strong. I can’t fight them. The voice has died. The moon waits above. I am nothing but a ghost. I’m never coming back home.