Lyren pushed the gates open and he was assaulted by the creaking hinges and his heart tightened.
A surge of wind blew from the inside and his eyes were revealed as he was welcomed by the silent surroundings. The compound was now carpeted by tall green grass.
The chickens that were usually loitering in the compound were somehow absent and the silence that assaulted him came with a dark premonition.
Even from afar, he could see the open doors. No, they were destroyed. Maybe by time or someone had broken in. The grass roof had holes in it and some of it was sagging to the side.
There were signs of broken clay utensils like the pot that stood out in the tall grass. There used to be an orange tree but it had also dried up leaving nothing but a black outline of its branches.
Birds used to land on it giving the compound some life and their absence was striking for him. All these details he noticed while standing at the open gates unable to take a step forward.
Should he take a step forward? No could he take a step forward?
Lyren felt weak in the knees and his hand shivered like a leaf on a windy day. That was not mentioning the fact that he had even dropped his sword unable to hold on to it.
He was just clenching his had and the wind seemed to come and go. The image was striking as the thirteen years old stood at the open gates unable to move.
Only his eyes which were visible when the wind came seemed to move on his accord.
His face had darkened to the point he appeared unapproachable. He seemed to command his own space and as he took his first staggering step forward, his other foot almost gave away.
As he walked towards the house, one could think he was a toddler because his steps seemed strained and shaky.
His eyes whenever the wind came were shining. Shining from the tears that could not fall not form.
He finally reached the entrance and the wooden floor creaked when he stepped on it. The floor was covered with grass here and there. There were more broken utensils on the floor as he pushed the broken door.
The door did not open but it gave way and fell with a thud blowing a cloud of dust and air into the air. And now he had a good look at the living room.
The broken chairs, the one-legged table with pieces of grass on it and the other three broken legs underneath it. The table seemed to scream for justice either repairment or total destruction as the position had been tiring it.
He looked around and it seemed that some furniture was missing and he could not help but feel that someone had taken it.
He wanted to conjure range but he couldn't. even his tears had betrayed him and refused to fall. He was unexpectedly calm as he took in every detail.
He walked to where his room used to be and when he opened the door, the familiar room was no longer existent.
Instead, shreds of his clothes were on the floor and there was not even a bed. He looked at broken window and the scenery he used to enjoy from this view no longer hit the same.
It did not even hit at all. He was confused. He knew he should be angry but he couldn't. He wanted to shed tears because he was sad but he couldn't.
Nothing was following his command. Or maybe, he was no longer one with his body.
He took small steps backwards as he went to his mother's room. The door here had already been destroyed. There was nothing at all apart from the grass that fell from the roof.
He could not help but have flashbacks as he recalled him mother knitting clothes seated on the white sheet of her bed. He was busy on the floor then playing with the bundles of strings.
He could see her smile when their eyes met and later when she attempted to teach him how to knit but he had failed terribly.
She did not try to motivate him and she had gone ahead to tell him that that was not a guys' thing but a girls' thing so he shouldn't feel bad he failed.
Instead, he should be happy he had failed because that would not be good for his image.
Lyren had been proud he was following his gender norms but he had gone ahead and continued to learn until he was knitting with his mom seated on her bed.
She had laughed at him when he picked up the skill but she had continued to give him advice. He recalled it as though it was happening now and everything she said was not forgotten.
"Even your father did not listen when I told him that knitting clothes is not for men. He had picked up the skill midway and he even made me a sweater.
"You see, I usually wear it even in the sun. What do you plan to knit for mommy?" She had asked and the young Lyren had went ahead and bragged how he was going to make her another sweater.
"Make sure to do so."
"Where is dad? I wanted to make one for him too…"
Lyren had asked innocently but his mother was silent for a very long period staring through the window. She then looked at him and smiled.
"Your dad is not here with us anymore but he left you the one thing that was very precious to him. He said that he had improved his use of the sword after he had learned knitting. Don't you think mommy is cool?"
Young Lyren had his fist folded on his chest as he listened to his mother. She was the coolest after his father.
Even if he never met him, the fact he had left him a treasured sword and he had managed to knit, he was cool. If his father could do it, then he was even more capable because he had learned at a young age.
The scene seemed to change and young Lyren was in the room but in his hands which were hidden behind himself was his knitting. A green sweater that was the same color as the one his father had made.
"What are you hiding from me?" she asked and young Lyren smiled mischievously.
"Close your eyes first. Tighter… no looking…" and when his terms were met, he displayed his new creation. A sweater for his mom. "Now you can look."
And when his mother opened her eyes, she laughed so hard that Lyren was surprised his mother could laugh that hard.
Well, as he looked at the scene now, even he could not help but chuckle. The sweater was so small that it could not even him when he made it.
It could barely fit a baby but when his mother stopped laughing, he had taken it and hugged it promising that she was never going to remove it.
She had then hugged him tightly and he had missed the tears she shed back then but now he could actually see the pain in her eyes when she was hugging.
The sweater he made was tightly clasped in her hand. Lyren was so red when he heard his mother's praise and he hugged back withholding nothing.
And true to her word, the next day he saw that she had knitted the sweater on the front of the sweater she was always wearing. He never felt so proud.
He had forgotten this memory but this was the first time she had said something about his father and also, as he looked back at it, she was always hurting but she never stopped smiling when they were together.
Then he recalled when she was sending him to go to the woods. She had kept saying how his father kept saying that once he awakened, he should take the sword and go hunting.
He was so happy that his father had thought of him long ago but now, it was this promise that had taken his mother away from him.
All his thoughts of her coming to look for him were real and he could guess that she never stopped searching. And she never came back, but he did.
He had come back…
He was here and she was not. He once again felt his disconnection with his body as he failed to fall on his knees or shed any tears. Instead, he wanted to know what had happened.
His body moved on its own as it guided him outside the the house to the gate. His face was hidden by his hair and his head did not look up or forward. He just wanted to find someone.
Anyone…