Somewhere, either here or there, for this story does not need a location nor a time to happen for it happens nevertheless, a child is sitting on the family’s porch.
The child is the golden apple of the family, the only son and living child of a family that goes generations back where they worked and died on the same soil that they continue to live on. Since name does not matter, let’s call the child ‘Son’ as that was its entire identity: being the son of its parents and grandparents and ancestors up above.
However, Son is lonely, as being the treasure of its family means that no harm nor corruption can befall upon it. The child is kept in a perfectly isolated world, only interacting with other children at the discretion of its parents. But why is the coveted child sitting outside in the hot summer sun? Because the adults shushed Son out, telling the child to go outside and ignore the screams and groans from inside.
Son wants to see mother, but father won’t allow it. It’s taboo to let a boy inside as their younger sibling is being born. Bad luck, the elders call it. The child will suck all the energy meant for the baby. Son doesn’t get all this energy talk but does what is told of it, for good children listen to what their parents tell them.
Waiting outside, the child can’t wait to hear cries of jubilation as mother finishes giving birth, for a healthy infant and mother should bring joy no matter what. But even when the groans stop and the cries of a much smaller and new voice are heard, there are no other sounds. The infant was not welcomed warmly into this world.
Still outside, now poking dirt with a stick, Son sees one of the aunts hurrying out of a back door with a bundle in her arms, crying sounds getting fainter and fainter away.
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Sneaking around the village, Son was wandering away from any adult’s gaze, not wanting them to look too hard and realize the child is not where it is supposed to be. For the child now has a secret close to heart that it knows the adults will not allow: a female friend.
She sits sweetly on the fence, waiting for the child. “You know, you don’t have to go secreting around so much. I’m sure even if you are leaving, your parents won’t ever suspect you’re meeting up with a girl.” Son likes the way girl rolled around her tongue, as she says it with almost a fervor, a declaration of who she is to the world, compared to the way the elders say it so hushed and ashamed.
“Anyways,” she sighs as Son didn’t respond in time. “You wanna go look at what the Outsiders have brought with them today?”
Oh, the Outsiders. The Outsiders. Something so integral yet hated by the village. The Outsiders bring with them discoveries of far-away lands, things so outlandish that many suggested magic. The items bring better lives for the entire village, but frightens them at the same thing as it is change. It is different from what their ancestors used, so it is not good. However, the villagers cannot help but use the foreign items, making excuses under their breath for the ones watching above.
“Sure,” Son says. “Luckily the other villagers don’t notice you so I won’t get into trouble.”
The child starts to go to the markets, which are the heart of the village as farmers and merchants alike cry out to the passerby. As Son walks by, familiar shouts echo as family-friends and acquaintances greet the treasure of a local family. Son ignores all of them, focusing on the objective ahead. None seem to notice her right by the child’s side.
Creeping closer to the Outsiders, the child and her look at the colorful items they have never seen before-
“What are you doing here son?!” An aunt yells, spotting the precious child near such dangerous materials. Grabbing its wrist, she starts to pull Son away from the Outsiders stall, as the treasure of the family cannot be tainted with such vile things.
Luckily, the aunt never notices her, instead focusing on the only male child of the family in her hands.
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Out by the family land, which spans across multiple houses for servants and branches of the main family, lay a small clearing. Not many knew about the clearing, for it was small and out of the way. Every day, the child wanders there to escape the watchful eye of the adults all around.
Today is a special day, because Son brings new flowers to replace the ones which have withered. The child had stolen the flowers from vases inside the family house that no one would realize or miss. Laying them one by one on the ground, the child draws out plots only the imagination can see, as there were no clear markers above ground, unlike another clearing, which lay more in the middle of the family land. The other clearing never lacks flowers, as the family replaces them daily on top of a few markers stabbed into the ground. 5 headstones, for 5 stillborn and early-departed sons, 5 missed souls who never were.
This clearing has none of that. The only evident tampering with the soil is a singular hole that was quickly dug and buried. There are no headstones, yet Son imagines them so: 12 headstones shining just as brightly as the ones in the other clearing. The child didn’t even know the correct number, as there was more before Son was even born. Nevertheless, if the ancestors are truly above, the child hopes that they are better received than they were on earth. However, if the living truly reflect the ideals of their ancestors, Son secretly hopes they instead went to be born and well received elsewhere, where, just maybe, girls were as celebrated as boys.
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“I can’t wait to escape and leave this place,” she sighs. “Out there I hear there are skirts that are shorter than your knee! Can you believe that? I can’t wait to try them on. I’m sure they’d look amazing on me.”
Son remembers mother and grandmothers and aunts having conversations about those clothes: how indecent, how promiscuous, how shameful they were. But, they would indeed look good on her.
“I’m not sure,” the child says. “Where would we go? How would we stay alive without the support of the adults around us.”
She tilts her head. “You think I’m truly alive living like this?”
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The girl slowly starts to plan an escape. “Hopefully,” she states, “the Outsiders will allow us to follow them. If we sneak on back of one of their shipments and don’t get caught long enough, they can’t return us without good conscience. We can be free, truly free to do whatever and finally be whatever.”
The child is more hesitant, as all Son knows is their family and the village. The Outside is unfamiliar, with just a vague blur of what it could possibly be. Although apprehensive, Son wants to help her survive, slowly bringing materials and money and clothes and skirts into the family’s home for safe keeping as she had nowhere else to put them.
However, the world is never truly kind. An aunt discovers the items that Son had tried to stash away. Screaming to the ancestors above, the aunt’s cries call the other family members to her, curious of what has happened. Seeing the incriminating evidence in her hands, a dirty skirt, they immediately storm out of the house, searching for the child. And instead of finding the Son, they find her in the child’s place.
Calling upon the rest of the village, they surround her, spitting and scorning her. She is caught and thrown down, kicked, beaten blue and purple till the stars above beckon her to come closer until she is no more.
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Many years later, a wedding is happening. Two families have planned to be joined together by the union of their children, one being a proper woman who had been coached since a young age while the other is the golden treasure of the family, the only son.
They have not met before the wedding, as it was arranged and unimportant of what the two participating parties had truly thought. The first time they meet eyes is when Son lifts off the veil of the woman as they are about the kiss.
Her eyes look nothing like the girl from back there. Her eyes were so full of life compared to the woman, the bride, standing on the alter. Her eyes looked towards the skies, not at the heavens, but towards the future that never was. The woman who stands before her husband has none of that. Her eyes seem to stare at nothing instead, looking right past everyone. Her eyes seem like they have accepted this life instead of trying to fight back like the girl did.
Son wishes that instead of the bride’s soulless eyes, a mirror is in place so the girl’s eyes can be seen once more.
But she is long gone.
For he is a boy.
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Even later, there is a child sitting on the family’s porch. He is the treasure of the family, as it is tradition that sons are celebrated, and girls are tolerated at best. At worst, there are no girls. Or maybe that is considered the best for the family that there are no living girls.
Because of that, the child is lonely as he has no siblings to play with, to grow up. He can only interact with other children at the discretion of his parents. However, the son is bored no more as there is a commotion at the front gates for his father has returned from work.
Running up to the front, the son cries for the loving arms of his father, who picks him up and hugs him close, to give love that his own father didn’t. The mother also comes out to greet her husband, with a slight bump that the aunts and cousins and grandmothers bless constantly to be born male.
Marveling as his mother drew close, the son tries to touch the belly of his mother, to feel his sibling’s heart beat with his, but is stopped by his father’s hand. It is tradition to not allow a son to touch the woman’s belly, as the elder might suck out all the energy meant for the baby. “You cannot,” his father slowly sighs. “The family wants a boy.”
The boy tilts his head ever so slightly. “But Father, did you want a boy?”
UF PRISM 