With another mushy thud the pestle was brought down again and with a monotonous twist of the wrist the gooey section of food further refined into one. Over and over she raised her hand and brought the stone pestle down, sometimes with a twist and others without. Occasionally dragging the food away from the edges and closer to middle. Forming a tiny unbalanced hill just to crush it under a dropping pestle. Slow in her motions and not a sound in the dark, apart from the frequent blabber that came from a makeshift cradle and rubbing of pestle and mortar, her eyes unfocused as she moved the object around.
Room lit with a drowning candle, specks of light entering from cracks in the old wood walls slightly aiding the flames in its debilitating task. Her eyes already accustomed to the insubstantial lighting, held the mortar in place with one hand and drew circles and vertical strikes with the other. Careful to not let either items slip out her dry fingers.
Halting with the pestle and mortar, picked up a nearby spoon, she took it to a large tin can; a small distance away on the slanted table from the resting mortar. Tilting the can, Marie reached for the end with the long handle, bypassing the rising heat and bringing small chunks of carrot, apple and soft chicken falling onto the stone mortar. Their fall cushioned by the blended mush.
Emptying the tin began squashing the new additions with the pestle again. Carrots and apple dissolving under the weight with little to no effort and the chicken pieces easy to tear into pulp. Their mass quick to mix inside the flowing mush. Becoming a wet batter in a matter of seconds, but not wet enough. Thinking it too difficult to swallow, Marie scooped up some watery base from the hot can and poured it onto the sticky mix.
Continuing to render until the food was suitable for the little baby on the opposite side of the room.
Picking up the mortar until it completely sat upon her palm, brought it over to the cradle. A small wooden tub that layed flat on the ground, heavily layed and covered with as much cloth and fur she could find and clean. Each piece vigilantly hand washed with hot water and each protecting the defenseless baby from the hard surfaces. Lining every corner of the round tub. A silky white fabric covering the child pass the stomach and onto the ribs and armpits.
Making noises a baby should, upon seeing his mothers face raised his voice even louder in a happy glee. Showing his smile and gums held his arms up, hands desperately reaching for his mother.
Dropping to the floorboards with a coarse carpet between the ground and her body, comforting her in her descent but it was unfelt as she kneeled down. Her legs accustomed to the pressure against her knees and shins, bent closer towards the baby as he inspected her with playful noise.
Holding the mortar up took a swipe with the same long spoon. Her fingers closed around the end of the handle as she moved the mash down. Happy to open his mouth, took the healthy mixture into his rosy cheeks. His soft hand pressing and feeling his mother's own rough hands, although it was a wide stretch away he was able to manage. Holding onto her hand until she pulled away to take up more food onto the spoon. Forced to let go as he was unable to hold with a firm grip. Spewing some more blabber as his mother grew further apart.
Careful to not bring the food too close decreased the speed of her hands the closer she got to the child's lips. Hoving above his mouth until he latched his hands around her knuckles and fingers, energetically pulling it down until it entered his open lips.
His legs always ready to kick up whenever his mother was around.
Looking down on the child picked up another portion from the sticky mush. Her tired eyes barely leaving the sight of the uncharismatic spoon. The baby tight on her peripherals.
Bright faced, and full with energy and instinctive joy that she would take rare glances at. His eyes just like hers, a common brown, deeper than her own with the same black hair that was thick in nature, moderately protruding out his clean head of peach purée. So much alike yet she was unable to see any resemblance. Unable to feel the connection with the laughing baby and her unhealed spirit. But maybe she could learn to grow it. Though the thought hasn't exactly crossed her mind and currently too spent to think in a straight tunnel to nourish the idea.
Her drowsiness strong but her day wasn't close to over. Loud in his crys and hearty with his shouts, Marie wasn't able to get a long lasting sleep through most nights. And today was possibly one of the worse nights she could vaguely remember, not even a simple power nap could be taken without a wail in the dark.
Wolfing down the food until no more came, watched as his mother got up and walk away. His skin no longer touching her bones. Sad to see her go, he was able to hold in his sadness. Only saying a few short phrases of gibberish. Arms still reaching until it was finally time to give up.
Placing the spoon and mortar back onto the slanted table, spoon sliding head first until the friction stuck it in place not far away. Placing a dry cloth over the stone, half empty mortar, enough for another feeding when she came back.
Next to the table, both hands open on the table-top and lightly leaning on it as support. Eyes closed in figurative rest. Hiding in the black behind her eyelids. Heavy shoulders pushed low and her tight scapula extended outwards, hips moving back as her compressed spine stretching alongside with the movement. Brushing off the piling rust off her body, but rust couldn't be removed by a simple stretch. Head hung low, her chin close to her nearing collarbones. Hair fallen casting a dirty veil to her peach face, whitened with low energy and creeping exhaustion. Yet darkening the skin under her eyes and sipping away the brown from her iris.
Feeling the expanse of her overworked muscle fibers and even the pull of her hair strands on the roots of her hair follicles. Marie's vibrance shook, letting out a sliver of colour in the cruel path she's been forced on. Resonating her body.
Staying in the position, actively feeling the rise and collapse of her lungs and diaphragm, controlling her breathing. Each breath slow to intake and every exhale smooth in its exit. Calming breaths she quickly learned when she was thrown to the pit. Doing them whenever overwhelmed and stressed, maybe even practicing them too occasionally if she humoured but humour wouldn't fit in the downcast mood. It hasn't been; for long, too long of a time has it been muddy fog but it wasn't time to delve into those thoughts. Marie didn't want to plung deeper into the thoughts anyways.
Reverting back into her original pose, hands slowly peeling away leaving only her feet to touch a surface, eyes opening back to their trite place. The dark partly covered by her darker hair. Vibrance disappearing as her vision solidified, Marie took hold of the spoon and brought it over to a water bucket covered with a unsmoothened lid. A short wooden ladle hung on the side, afloat on the water, held in place by a hooked extension that passed through the ladles loop on its handle.
Disconnecting the connection, Marie splashed some water onto the saliva-wet bowl of the spoon, cleaning down the neck of the handle and keeping it fresh for next use. Rubbing anything she considered dirty.
A simple cleansing and routine. Putting back the bucket lid, Marie balanced the spoon on where the cloth touched the mortar, leaving it out to dry.
Having no more work to do indoors, it was time to leave to the outside. Slicking her hair back to clear her view. The fatigue in full light showing its disheveled appearance. Life has been tough and it still is but she has grown tougher to combat it. People's presences didn't have the throat-drying, unnerving feeling anymore. Although interacting with others still posed difficult, Marie was able to do it for both her and the child, hardened by her will to find work and self-sustain. The environment had accelerated the process.
Making noises since his mother got up, eager for attention, quietened down when his mother aimed for the door. Going to - knowing - complete silence when the door closed behind on her way out. Face drawn to the closed door, patient for his mothers return. Eyes locking onto it waiting, not a while before his hope turned from a healthy tree to a tiny dandelion lone in the plains. Darting his sight to someplace else, to the crack-full ceiling. Attentive to see the gold light that lasered past the crevices of the roof boards, flowing from one spot of light to the next. Random spots of sound coming from his mouth, maybe mother would hear him past their wooden home and past the large space between them, where the happy sun hopefully shined onto. His hope unable to flickering empty.
Alone in the now less dark room, more light pouring in from the far reaches of the world the longer he lay waiting. Having been fed, boredom was the only enemy he would be facing anytime soon. It's boring seize inching closer to make him even more bored. There was only so many cracks on the roof to jump to and only a limited number of times he could repeatedly stare at the brightened rays until their interest diminished.
Wishing to go out to see the suns doings under its full majesty, small fits where happening inside the blankets and snug tub. Suddenly making loud shouts and extravagant movements, kicking and fighting the air and cover over him. His blanket, held down by his own weight, drained his resolve as he kicked and wiggled, unbuldging with its hold on his soft body. Energy rapidly leaving as he continued to try, screaming even louder but his shouts fell onto no ears. Powering through the barricades to go nowhere.
Tired from the endeavour, his baby tantrum came to a halt. Determination to see the world retreating back leaving sleepiness in its shrinking footsteps. The damage done contained to his makeshift cradle, his blanket now able to stretch further than before. A miniscule gain but it was a positive gain nonetheless that he was quite proud of. More leg room for his feisty legs.
Enjoying his small victory and having used enough energy to obliterate his noble chambers, was ready to sleep. The trickles of sweat from his skin was somewhat uncomfy but it didn't bother him. The temperature was perfectly fine for him to sleep through anything, even the loud chattering outside.
Going back to the gold, even more pronounced as the day dragged on. His home fully lit up showing the old and worn-out walls and tattered ceiling which cracks were larger than previously thought, somehow growing larger the brighter it got. One of the his home's great mysteries but no matter how radient the light, it would never seep through the roof directly above him. Other parts of the roof were penetrated by the gold but not this section above, blocking out the rain and sun. Forming a shadow that filled his area well at this time of day.
Eyes uncontrollably squinting as he studied the rays, close to floating away on his fluffed up tub. The golden lasers could try their very hardest to take his attention but they couldn't compare to the tranquility of restful slumber. Soon to shut his eyelids where time sped past to his mothers presence, where everything was blocked off. Not a single noise could break his concentration from sleeping.
Nearing it's closure, no more light would directly touch upon his eyes if he was given one more second.
Blown wide eyed, a sudden thump rustled the weak wall closes to his cradle. Shaken by the sudden impact, compacted his legs and arms into one and froze up in reaction instantly. Face towards the movement and silent, the outside noise keep coming.
Thud, Thud, and the groaning of the wall whenever hit by something. The harsh noise unrelenting in its assult accompanied by the shouts and howl of anger and pain rung frighteningly next to him. The affects of punches and kicks clear as the day nearby, each contact a following grunt and another leading thud. Increasing in violence the longer the fight extended. Heavy breaths easily passing to the babies ears. Their gasping becoming more intense under the heat of the sun.
Stuck beside the terror, the wall resisting as a body slammed towards it. Holding the brutal scuffle back, creaking and whining as the downed fighter was repeatedly recieving blow after blow. Each one sending him pushing against the old wall shaking the whole home.
Forced out from his stupefied, frozen state. The crys of his home, barely able to protect his frail body, exerting its all to push back against the many forces. About to collapse at any moment. Fragile and alone inside a weeping building, the fright and horror is overbearing for a developing child.
The more hits that rung the easier it was to cry himself, reaching a spilling point. Uncontainable, he bawled and sobbed using all the air in his lungs to cry and make himself known but no-one cared. Hands grasping and reaching in confusion and desperation, flailing in the air for someone, for his mother. His crys getting louder to travel further as he called for her help, but no help would be given or come.
Giving blow after blow, arms reeling back before releasing it all to fly straight to the others protected head.
Arms up high infront of his face, recieving every hit into his forearms or the side of his skull. Pushing himself against the wall behind him even more with his trapped legs. His attacker kneeling above his pelvis, the punches becoming more unbearable by the second. His entire back finally pressed firmly on the wood wall. Splinters digging into his skin pass his shirt as he wormed himself up. Blood oozing from the larger scratches on his back and face.
But it was worth it, placing his feet until it was flat on the ground, pushed off with his back at the same time, arms stretching outwards disrupting the assulters brutish pattern.
"Fucker!"
Hands pushing on the attackers chest and shoulders, throwing him to the floor. The brutes head striking the ground as his body whipped back.
Midway with his punch, body reeled back to throw his punch was thrown off balance when the bloody receiver hulled himself off the wall. Sending him tumbling back as he attempted to get up from kneeling due to the sudden action, making his fall even worse. His back hitting the solid ground followed by his exposed head which bounced up from the impact with more splitting force. Sending him into a deadly daze.
"~Uuggghhhhhh"
Thoughts reprocessing from the fall.
Ontop, now the one kneeling. Without hesitation balled up a nasty fist and hastily delivered it to the guy's unsuspecting face, his head suspended in the air from the gruesome fall, mind nowhere near here.
The back of his head sent rushing back to the hard mud, mind sent further away by the blow. His hands dangling in air, twitching everytime he was hit.
Lifting his fist, prepared to let loose. Another dangerous thump to the downed brute, unresisting with his stunned body. And another, and one more. Red glueing to his knuckles. Another lift off about to plummet down but stopped by a running kick to the shoulder. His entire body crashing to the side.
A devastating hit to the arm. Pain pulsing but the rabid dose of adrenaline in his body numbed most the hurt around his body.
"They're here!!!"
Getting his neck up, looked back to where the kick came from, another grunt from the opposing party calling for more men. The fresh body currently occupied with checking the downed victim, face creasing to apprehension but the knowledge of the arriving group eased his selfish worry. Walking towards the opponent after finishing the short sentence, stepping over the body on the floor.
The cumulative pain beginning to reveal itself as his frenzy sizzled out. The abuse holding his body down like thick armour. Standing up fast whilst backing away held his arms up, one level with his chest while the other below his waist. His shoulder too damaged to cooperate. Blood trickling down the nose to his lips, feeling the metallic hint as it spread and into his mouth, coating his already bloody gums. Mouth agape gripping for air. Looking for movement in the new arriver through bruised eyes, taking his whole attention as he waited for the incoming rush.
Unsuspecting, from the ribs of his hurt shoulder, he was flung to the ground letting out a pained yelp. Tackled to the floor by another and before he could go into fetal, a wild kick was thrown at his stomach. Killing the air in his lungs and any actions of retaliation. Helpless on the dirt taking punch after kick onto his aching body until it abruptly stopped. The attackers pushed off his body by fellow members who were currently dragging his body away. From his beaten face, blurry dolls of people coming from the entrance of the long alleyway were vaguely seen. Their upperhand of numbers becoming useless if they stayed.
Back on his feet, started to dash away with his defeated group the best his pained body could.
Seeing them retreat their mad sprint slowed to a halt.
In the midst of the brawl ground, bruised bodies and bloody mugs. Lethargic in the climb from the dirt to their feet. Every one of them smacked purple and brown. One holding his nose to stop the dripping blood and another squirming on the ground with a wrecked arm.
Another, arms dispersed to the side. A pool of blood spilling out his head staining the dirt. Cloudy eyes yet to fully close with a limp torso. His lame legs lifelessly kicking, displacing a weak amount of mud as this shoe soles dragged along the ground.
More like him groaning on the ground, all better off.
Unable to stop his tears, the crys continued ringing into the empty air. Even though the clash was over, the fear in his head wouldn't go away. Urgently calling for his lovable family, repeatedly calling throughout the brawl. His puffy cheeks gone to a pitiful red, tears stinging his tender skin as they dried and moistened.
Wall no longer weeping and his home free from wails. He was left with his sole voice in the barren room. Hearing nothing but his own fearful calls, also drifting to a end when he could scream no more after many watery hicks. His energy strung empty from another set of troubled movements, his body wanting nothing less than to shut down and recuperate. Wandering off as his salty tears dried for the final time.
Opening the door with a covered cup in her lifted hands. A large contain of milk standing on her forearm, pressing on her chest for stability. The dark circles under her murky eyes a tad more black.
Ridding her arm of the items, picked up the spoon and uncovered the mortar, holding both up with the same hand. Separating the two as she walked towards the baby, already scooping a portion of cold mush out of habit but the action was unneeded. Sleeping soundly, a light tinge of red on the child's cheek. A trail of crusty snot out the child's nose and an almost unseen stream of dried tears down his face, seeming to have fallen asleep after throwning a temper tantrum. Without thought Marie got on her skinny knees, putting what she held on the floor. Wiped his face with the one of the cradles many cloths and picked back up the mortar with the spoon stuck inside. She would wash it later. Unceremoniously got up and recovered them both.
Near the table Marie rested her hands on its surface this time only leaning. Too much effort to stretch her worn out mind, staying there for a while. Eyes closed and swaying very slightly side to side like dried grass, manually focusing to keep her legs straight wanting nothing more than to have a moment of silence. Disappear from the ringing and crys for a while, if not forever.
But the moment wont last long. No time for a meaningful rest or for the simple joy of reading a short chapter of a book. Carrying herself over to a short shelf in the corner of the building, holstering four dusty books and a mess of empty tins and scraps on its other parts. Looking for anything to cover the cup of milk. Picking a thin board of broken timber.
Swiping off the dust and blowing the remnants with a puff of dry air. Covered the milk and with that, Marie went out the door again.
Hearing a creak of hinges and the touch of a door against its frame, he woke up from his calming sleep. Peering towards the door with his weedy eyes. Woken too late and has missed his mother, calling out to get her attention. Retrying after a period of waiting. And again. Until reluctantly stopping after another finishing squeeze of his gathered, unorganised breathe.
Understanding it wouldn't work.
Going back to the golden rays with his needy eyes, waiting for their shine to be snuffed out into a shallow, moonlit grey drizzle and a brighter glow would come back home.