"I wasn't enough for him to stay—was I?"
The grief that swallows me as I long for the touch of my late lover, to embrace and cup my hand on his cheek and tenderly kiss him as we lie on bed. The smell still quietly lingers as some years have passed leaving me to wallow in my sadness yet I seem to never get past that thought.
We were both childhood lovers we grew up together, my mother gave me to be cared for as she died the same disease our family died of, rare, yet frequent in our family line. I even wonder why do my ancestors even feel the need to leave behind descendants to even continue this debacle, this ticking clock that announced our death at the age of twenty.
For me maybe it was to meet him—we both had it, although rare for people it was tough luck that let us both meet.
I resolved myself to live my life with him and die.
Yet it seems he had different thoughts from me.
This disease that hunts us is quite different of what people think a disease is. The world that runs on energy called—"mana" is the lifeblood of our cultures and our lives, without it, a person would seem like a lifeless husk, dead—probably? We were gods in the eyes of normal people, gods with pitiful amount of years, yet that amount of time is enough to damage the whole world as we know it. People have a set amount to spend and recover, but us? We had an unlimited amount, enough to kill us as we turn twenty.
The world revolved around trying to contain and mitigate the damage that we could cause—why not kills us?
Our lives revolved around the dome created to house and keep something away from us—we don't know what it is anymore as years passed yet the tradition remained.
A sacrifice to power the dome that was created not only that it had to be a willing sacrifice. They learned early on that the sacrifice had to be willing how they learned? The exile of the instigators to the willing audience that let it happen. The people saw how they were exiled slowly yet painfully by the dome.
The haunting faces painted by artists still intact in museums and walls of many public establishments as one by one an unseen force pulled them by their feet, families tried to help yet were unable, they were dragged day by day slowly yet the dread and the horror came. We learned why the dome was created and why we maintained it.
After an incident where a country known for freedom tried to puppet multiple individuals situated in their country half of that country seemed to disappear—now it sits as fractured states.
The rules were created to prevent the abuse and repeat of the same incidents. Firstly, one must not in any way or form force the individual to sacrifice. Secondly, countries and people are not allowed to manipulate the individual in ways that may seem advantageous to them. Lastly, no killing of individuals to create advantageous boons. These were the rules created by the chosen for the chosen after some threats and the happening of said threats.
I really should thank them for letting us have the freedom they fought for but it seems that everyone that fought for it was dead—the whole unable to live past twenty dead—though there are still some of their allies alive most of them were pushed out of their positions and or living their retirement some are still in the place where it all happened to facilitate the sacrifice.
The rules were not only created by word it was set in stone by the people before, if said rules were disobeyed and ignored, the nightmare of the dread still lives on even if you unknowingly disobeyed said rules.
There was once a politician that was paraded around, known for his manipulation and his threats, are all naught in the face of anger of the dome. People laughed as he was dragged by his ankles his family in shame, abandoned him as he was slowly and painfully pulled, no one seemed to help him—lest they be dragged too. I heard the most painful thing for him was the humiliation, he wished that the dome exile him faster to escape such torture.
His victim—canonized and held as a hero.
It seems the gods have justice given to them and the common people not given any at all.
Well—what do I know—I'm a god myself.
Days pass by as I mourn the death of my lover—dear to my heart yet unable to move on. I lived past twenty—a miracle they say—I wonder how they would feel knowing how I lived past twenty. I lay down on the grass near a tree where me and my lover always frequented to pass time. Someone calls out to me. A girl cute in stature just like a toddler—she looked the same as the day I left for travel—with her skirt called patadyong—in a checkered pattern while her shirt in a plain white that somehow made her skirt pop out more, her long hair blowing in the wind while her skin sun-kissed for the sun. She made her way towards me.
"Tito, why didn't you tell us you came home, were you planning until midnight to come inside"
She said in a tone reminiscent of her mother—who she looked like.
"''I didn't notice the time I just needed to rest a bit after the long journey"
She looked at me eyebrows raised. "In the middle of the field? Not inside the house?"
"You know how that place meant to me"
"I thought the fatigue from your travel you would want to sleep on a bed"
"I guess I was feeling a bit reminiscent"
She shrugs it off and she immediately bounces on me. Me being a good tito—her uncle— let her knowing full well the hurt that would come.
"I missed you!"
I wrapped my arms around her body as I softly replied.
"I missed you too"
I entered the house—small yet lived in—the walls all looked the same the arrangement of the furniture unmoved the new additions may seem minor as paintings of the family I call my own litter the walls of the hallway. I stopped to stare at the painting that was created before the death of my lover. His skin Tan—his body toned underneath the shirt—I would know I slept with him. His eyes smiling with an expression that seemed to convey love—the painting was created with me in the room waiting for my turn but it seemed all we did was stare at each other.
I was interrupted by the sound of my niece's mother—my childhood friend and the sister to my lover—my confidant greeting me.
"You looked like you never aged at all—like him"'
Pointing to the painting of her brother—complaining about how it seems that as the years go by, I never seemed to age while fully knowing why I never did at all. I humor her.
"And you seem to age faster than I realize"
She dramatically gasped acting like I killed someone.
"I'll have you know that everyone my age is jealous of my skin"
"Yes—yes the beauty of the village still the same as always"
I never really understood the attraction people pointed towards her, I never really felt it myself but I understood who wouldn't want to be together with someone of her personality and stature? I mean—I wouldn't want to be with her after all who would want to get together with someone you deem as a younger sister? I mean I may be biased after all I am attracted to men—specifically her older brother who I grew up with.
The furniture and the outlook of the house is still the same although the items are moved around from here to there it is still the same house I grew up in. I never really noticed the ambience that used to calm me down—but now I do as my travels keep fleeting me from place to place I would imagine this house I grew up in as my comfort whenever I yearn for home.
"Natividad, I missed you"
She smiled at me weary of the years the passed—but for me still the same as when we were young.
"I missed you too"
She hugged me. I barely know what she went through as the only family left of a sacrifice in the years I grieved, unresponsive and angry at the world she kept this house we deemed home running. She took care of me—I know a barely adult man—I really wouldn't know what I would do without her. Any wish and request I am at her beck and call after all the safety if this family is what keeps her drive and if eliminating and mitigating the harm that came the way of the family she built—I would destroy it.
She knows why I left the threat left untouched would sooner or later destroy this house she understood—she let me go and deal with it—knowing full well what it took she did discourage me but the with how much I owe her and think of her as family I have left—I went.
I missed her life milestones—her wedding, her pregnancy, and her family she created. I did stay once for a long amount of time once to complete her request—the urgency that was—but I did it and I had to go back. Her luck with lovers is tragic—one died early the other left her—after the last one left she swore of romance of any kind. I was never really there; I had to commit to my mission even if it meant losing out on the life she was building. I do not regret it.
"Tito—tito are you staying for long?"
My niece asked with her little brother who looks older then her now—he looks exactly like Natividad—I do not know how she keeps popping out lookalikes but she did a great job—I can never see the faces of their fathers.
"I'll stay long until the next sacrifice so, two years "
"You've done it, haven't you"
Natividad said looking a bit shocked
"I did"
I replied while playing with my niece and nephew.
"It is done."