The purple-tinted sky gradually blushed to red, welcoming the rise of this planet's moon. From street lamps to high skyscrapers, they all feasted in their brightest light. Kôra marveled from afar, the skyline of the Grahein downtown. He snapped some shots with his uncle's spare phone. This city's light was brilliant yet unfamiliar, it was unlike the glowing trees which are planted as sidewalk decoration.
The najyi, as it is called by Kôra’s people; perhaps the sparkles of city lamps overpowered the simple bioluminescence from its foliage. As Kôra always recalled, those trees were such a wonder; they were the charm of the hills and valleys where they originated from. He even had some planted in his family home. Small but adequate, nowhere as grand as he thought of the city lights.

He has thought of it enough, he missed his home.

“Thank you all for showing me around,” Kôra  thanked his friends who were walking beside him, distracting himself from the thoughts.

Only Kôra who came home empty-handed. Delven held a paper bag filled with pastries she bought, and Tal carried varieties of local street food. When walking along, he realized his height only reached Delven’s ear and will be more contrasting if compared with Tal. He started to think that his only known quality was being the shortest boy in class.

"You said that three times already," Talst remarked.

“That's alright, no problem,” replied Delven cordially. “It must be good, right?"

“It is better than I thought,” Kôra replied, scratching his right palm. "I meant. . . Great. I used to go out together with friends and. . . I. . . Just happy right now."

"You had friends?" responded Tal nonchalantly. "Now, where are they?"

"Some dead because earthquake, other left, so for many I never meet again,” Kôra answered, putting a bitter smile on his face.

"That's really terrible Kôra, I'm so sorry to hear that," Delven. She turned her upset face to Tal, perhaps for steering the conversation that way. Tal shrugged it and looked away, nothing of these were his fault to think of it.

"If you need help just tell us, if you don't mind," she offered. Delven pat Kôra's shoulder and did not let go.

Tal peered at Delven with his green eyes; a strong aura of distaste emanated towards Kôra.

“I wish to had good photo of together moments,” he anguished over. Delven attentively responded, nodding to him. “I managed to copy photos of their corpse for identification. Unfortunately, they looked very different like that,” Kôra told Delven more, who gradually dropped her hand from his shoulder. “I will prepare for Delven to see them.”

"Uh. . . I'm really sorry to hear that, I hope you can feel well again," she tried to think of an appropriate response. "That is. . . Disturb. . . Distressing, I meant. I really hope you feel well soon," she emphasized her concern.

“Thanks for the hope,” he replied with a more cheerful note, trying to break the gloomy air himself. “I am better now." His face beamed.

Delven smiled a wide smile; a look of both relief and worry at the same time.

"So heartwarming," asserted Tal with more sarcasm. "But I'm not some rebound friend," he continued bitterly.

"Do not worry, I do not think Tal is," Kôra ensured, still with a kind expression. "Even dead, they better than you."

"Good," Tal begrudgingly closed, crossing his arms. He forgot about the street snacks inside the plastic bags he held. Tal flinched like a startled kitten when those hot packs of snacks touched his skin.

All of these incited Delven's awkward laughter, and even more awkward sequences of silence. Their footsteps even sounded like it were louder than the passing cars. Kôra's mind wandered.

"May I know what time it is? I late for even ten minutes, will be much trouble!" Kôra remembered something out of the blue, bringing back his friends' attention.

"What is it, Kôra?" Delven asked back. "It's still six to twenty; we’re late for ten minutes but your uncle mustn’t be there yet," she calmed him down.

“Delven may be right,” Kôra concurred, “Uncle usually arrives past six, it is not possible he is home now.”

“It’s your house, right?” Delven made sure, pointing at a lonely beige-colored house by the road. “Seems like no one’s there yet!”

The house looked like a normal small city house which follows common Earth architecture, with ornamentations that are common here. It was decorated with Tôryaemaen-styled talismans and ornaments; including large colorful fabrics with inscriptions and geometrical symbols that were hung orderly. Despite the festive decoration, the surrounding atmosphere felt vacant. The vibe strengthened by the front lamp that shone dimly.

Kôra opened the rusty door gate which creaked at the moment he pushed it; a hung ornament of a small wooden bowl filled with fruit miniatures swung by. The boy recognized that hatam, every house at his village has it hung on various gates and doors as a fortune-bringer. While his friends stayed behind the gate, Kôra took off his faux leather shoes and walked up to the terrace. He was going to  put the key into the fitting hole when he noticed something.

Huh? Is it unlocked?

Kôra stepped back. He went to turn the doorknob to make sure for the worst. The cold metal which supposed to touch his fingers, it was warm.

Click!

The door opened from inside, Kôra’s heartbeat rushed.

Behind the door already stood a tall middle-aged man with a tousled appearance. His face looked dark that it was difficult to tell if he was angry or just exhausted. The amber-haired man looked at Kôra dead cold, which the boy tried his best to avoid. The narrow gaze became unsettling when he saw Delven’s and Tal’s belonging.

It was Haren.

"Jastra lonyaevnah, nyoh? [1]" Haren asked in Aylar-dialect Toryamaen language. The tone of his voice was sure firm but nowhere alarmingly harsh.

He glanced unemotionally at Tal and Delven. Theyboth set their gaze low like he was talking bad about them. “Ûngtsya! Ra to ni tsuvtaryah, nyoh? Kanoi![2]”

"Tânna malalayenya, tânna tashel tyalaovnyajo. . .[3]” Kôra answered with remarkably softer intonations, his eyes looked straight down to the floor. “Tânna tasônyah.[4]"

Silence ensued in the gap between passing vehicles, the road was getting less quiet.

“It’s night, come inside!” he ordered again, finally in language both Tal and Delven understand. As expected, Kôra with no more objection did as his uncle asked.

“But, Sir. . .” Delven tried to speak up. “We were—“

“He’s okay, you all can just go home,” Haren cut with a much softer voice, and seemingly looked at them with guilt, “Sorry.” He slammed the door loud, leaving an echoing silence. That was just useless; Delven could only stand outside with Tal patting her back.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“Rotten brat!!!” Haren barked, his voice heard much louder in the small kitchen room. "What took you so long? I told you not to eat outside!”

“I did not. . . I did not eating outside. . . It was they. . . They. . .” Kôra responded with a shaky voice. The boy uncomfortably sat in front of the dining table; sweating all over. His fingers are fidgeting in an incessant manner. “They asked. . . I refused them. I swear I do not eat outside, please do believe,” he begged.

“No more allergy or poisoning,” he replied with an indignant tone, not even looking at the kid. He served a reheated meal from a pan. “If you lie, your loss. I warmed up chicken spaghetti, go eat it.”

“Thanks very much, Uncle,” Kôra responded in bleakness, he bite his lips trying to contain his dismay. He loathed the weird earth food, he just could not bring himself to eat something that resembles slimy pale worms.

From the stove front, Haren prepared a glass of warmed milk. He turned his head to observe Kôra who was too busy with his food. The kid’s unpleasant face would usually be an annoyance for him, but now he should not buy it. Feeling safe and unnoticed, Haren uncovered a vial from one of his sleeves. The vial was fully clear as the liquid inside, which had a minuscule brown paper with inscriptions soaked in it.

Haren once again side eyed Kôra who struggles to finish his meal, he sighed with unease. The man delicately opened the cap, not to make a popping noise. Two drops were enough this time, the concoction diffused evenly into the milk. Haren tossed the vial afterward with care, it landed into a sticky note posted on the kitchen wall. The container was absorbed in a blink just like water, leaving a sketch on the paper depicting its real form.

“Drink before it gets cold." Haren handed over the milk and took Kôra’s finished dish away from the table.

“Thanks very much, Uncle,” Kôra received it with two hands. He took a sip and made a grimacing face as soon the fluid touched his tongue, it was worse than the spaghetti he had.

“Uncle. . . Uncle Haren.” Kôra gathered his courage to speak up, attempting to not skip a heartbeat as his uncle turned his head. “No offense, but. . .  I think. . . I think this milk is spoil,” he addressed his concern.

“It’s one week away,” Haren showed Kôra the carton, pointing to its expiry date. "It doesn't smell or tastes bad."

“But—“

“What? If you don’t like cow milk don't ask for one.” Haren’s tone started to get stern.

“It. . . It really tastes spoil, Uncle. . . Even for cow. . .” Kôra attempted to convince, abandoning his qualms.

Haren took the milk carton and poured it to his own glass to drink. All done in front of Kôra for him to watch.

"Not spoiled." He handed the rest of the milk to Kôra. The taste was just as awful as the one he was currently drinking. It further confused Kôra more, who looked up at his uncle with bemusement. "Probably it's the sleeping potion I mixed in."

"But. . . Sleeping potion. . . Sleeping potion do not taste like this. . . This is weird; this is ugly taste!"

“Yes, that happens when you don’t get enough sleep. Your mind messes up,” he annotated with a dubious softer tone. “It’s for your own good; this will help you sleep, so drink and pull yourself together.”

“I. . . I am. . . I am sorry, Uncle." his voice trembled in bewilderment. “I am sorry. . . I complained. . . Problem is me. . .”

It was more than a possibility in his mind that Haren could be right, it all made sense. There was no other likely explanation about the alterations of his senses. Same food or beverage would not taste different, and even more absurd for those that he cooked and prepared himself.

Kôra was fully aware of it; since the earthquake, his mind has never functioned decently. All the nightmares of sleepless nights and the stranger in the mirror, those were just a few peculiarities. It was never the same again, it was the thing unlike before; the delusions were only progressing worse.

He remembered the exchange he had with Delven, his friend, about his friends. His friends. Family. The lost faces of the dead people from the place he called home; those who he was trying to move on from with an obstinate yearning. Kôra trembled, a cold stinging surge emerged from his chest. Did he not pray enough? Was not his sins forgiven? Was this a godsend torment?

The grudge of the dead will torment the living, they said. If he was dead like the Thing of the Mirror told him, would his current existence be a purgatory? Was it, or is was not it? His cognition sneered at him for believing in things that were believably unreal. It was surreal enough, enough to let his doubts stack up to a pile. Enough. He could not even be certain about what was running in his mind, let alone speak about it.

What is wrong with me?

His hands were shaking harder, the rim of glass he held joggled and bumped into his teeth. Kôra could not just go to the bathroom and throw up as his uncle was watching. The kid held back the liquid inside his mouth, resisting the persistent need to vomit. His eyes glistened; he did not know if it was because the rotten thing he was holding inside his mouth, or the one holding him back in his head.

Whichever it was, the taste was just plain sickening.

_______________________

Notes:

[1]. Group studying, huh?

[2]. Bullshit! What the hell were you doing with them, huh? Come in!

[3]. I feel regret, I will properly explain.

[4]. I made mistakes.