Dance of the Damned

Glass Skin

Micah laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, or what he hoped is the ceiling anyway as he began to hum softly to himself.

He has been in this position for a long time, not sure how long, but long enough that he felt his body grow numb.

Afternoon naps suck.

Every little sound in the room seemed to grab his attention and, no matter what happens, he can't just dismiss them. Not when they seem to be his only connection to the outside world, no matter how unpleasant they feel.

The little pitter-patter of feet run all along the marble floors and he knows they are not babies, nor are they friendly. He learned that the hard way.

Note to self: Never stick your finger at a creature that may be stuck in the corner of the room. They do not like it and you won't either.

He ended up with a bad cut that day and, at least, five visits from the doctor in that single day itself. It was a record that he proudly held when compared to his minimal number of achievements.

"Sad, sorry little boy." He murmured to himself in a singsong tone. "Never going to get anywhere. Soon, he'll be found dead in a ditch."

"Young master!" Elise walked into the room, gasping as she heard the last part. "How could you sing something like that?"

"Sorry." He said smiling and sitting up from the bed. "I heard some boys singing it before and I thought it sounded neat."

"I don't think it is something for you to sing." She murmured, walking to him with a bowl of water and a cloth floating in the warm liquid. "Hands up."

Micah did as he was told as she began taking his clothes off and, as gently as possible, pressed the cloth against his porcelain.

Micah flinched slightly and Elise watched as that area of that skin began to turn a deep purple.

"I am so sorry, young master. Was the water too hot? I should have checked the temperature properly." She said this, running out of the room, leaving Micah alone again.

He touched the area, remembering the heat that coursed through his body once the cloth touched his skin. It burnt as if he touched a kettle that was put on the fire for longer than it needed to be.

He flinched at the pain again, sighing as he heard the faucet in the bathroom. Elise is busy trying to adjust the temperature of the water.

If it is too cold, there is a chance the boy will catch a cold and if it is too hot, he will get burnt. The temperature can't be off even by one degree.

The warmth of the sunlight breaking into his room from the large, glass window in front of his bed offered him no comfort. He hated heat more than anything else in that world.

Though he could never hate the plants, even if they are the ones that made him feel the most left out. Even more so on the day of the death of his parents.

_______________

"Mother, will I ever be able to see?" He remembered asking the woman with his exact hair. If he tried to look hard enough, as her shadow fell on him, he could almost see her.

"Aren't you doing that already?" She asked, placing his hands on her face. "Can't you see me now, Micah?"

The shape of her face, how her nose pointed a certain way and her lips always in a permanent pout, the way her hair rested on her clothes and the feel of her soft, cold hands. They followed him from her death to where he is now.

"I still can't see you, mother." He remembered saying as the doors opened and his father walked into the room.

The musky smell of his perfume and the powerful steps he took to reach them and the harshness of his voice resounded in the boy's mind, yet, his hands remained gentle when they are on Micah. Maybe even gentler than his mother's.

I had a good life, growing up. He thought. A loving family. A comfortable home. Kind people around me. I don't have a reason to complain. And I never did.

His hands reached for the burn again as a flash of heat searing through his body made him gasp for air, hands trembling while the screams in the distance faded away.

The burning heat he felt turned into the warm summer sun, making the boy sigh as he felt the other parts of his body start to heat up.

Hearing the water run in the distance, he knew that Elise is still in the bathroom so he opted to walk to the window and began pulling the curtains close.

He must have pulled it too hard because the cloth struggled with him for a bit before hitting him on the arm, cutting his burning skin as more warmth trickled down his torso.

Giving up, Micah fell to the floor, hand over the cut as he tried to stop the blood that flowed out of his fingers, staining that white skin red now.

"Young master!" Elise shouted, walking out of the bathroom and dropping the bowl of water all over the floor as indicated by the crashing sound followed by splatters on Micah's skin.

This time, the water did not feel like it was burning his skin.

"The water is the perfect temperature, Nanny Elise!" he said brightly.

"Don't give me that." She scolded, putting a dry cloth over his arm. "How did you even get injured? What were you doing out of bed?"

"The sun was too hot." He said, pointing to the window. "I wanted to close the curtains and it cut me."

"You should have waited for me, you stupid darling boy." She fussed and pressed the cloth even tighter to stop the blood from coming.

Once that was done, she brought even more bandages to wrap him with.

"I made the bath, come." She said that, but she was the one that took him to the bathroom and sat him into the tub.

After exactly five minutes, he came out and was dressed at lightning speed. Dried and re-bandaged, the boy ate his medicines and followed her out of his room for his daily evening walk.

________________

"The garden looks absolutely beautiful this evening, young master," Elise said, staring at the garden they walked through it on the pathways made by Briar and his father.

"Any flowers in bloom?" he asked, pausing as a soft breeze filled the air. There was still a little bit of warmth in the air and a bit of light.

The sun had just begun to set over the horizon.

"No." She said brightly. "Isn't that a good thing? No deaths for this year yet."

"Yes!" Micah said gleefully. "Though, for the flowers only to bloom when a death happens … it is quite sad, don't you think so?"

"I don't know." She said softly, voice almost carried away in the wind. "Doesn't it show how fragile life really is? That death is not entirely the end? It could also be a beautiful beginning for something new."

"I have never seen the flowers bloom before," Micah said with a sad smile on his face. "But I am sure they are beautiful, more than what I see in my head anyway."

"Whatever it is in your imagination, young master, they are as beautiful as that," Elise reassured him when the doors suddenly burst open as a woman stomped her way to them.

"Mistress Huckbury. Are you out here for a walk too?" Elise greeted the pompous woman whose perfume whiffed all the way to Micah's nose, making him nauseous.

She is wearing her wig and the most extravagant dress she could buy with the money from the estate, isn't she? Micah thought, hearing how her dress rustled with the fifty layers of fabric with every step she took.

"I should have you beaten." The woman almost screamed but seemed to decide against it.

"What is the matter?"

"Did you forgotten about the dinner tonight?" The woman hissed, looking at the two, heavily powdered face glaring at them. "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity with the king coming over."

"I didn't real-"

"Of course you didn't." She interrupted her, almost spitting her words out. "We need extra help in the kitchen. Go help."

"But … what about the young master?"

"I will look after him." She said, the words coming out like a well-rehearsed line. There was a pause.

The two women measuring each other up before the woman shouted again, "Go! We have no time to dilly dally."

"I will be right back, young master," Elise said, walking away as quickly as she could. Now only, Micah and the woman were left in the garden.

All the tranquil air from before gone as all Micah could smell is her perfume in his nose.

"You seem well enough to be walking on your own." The woman said, looking down at the boy.

"I am. Elise said that I am as healthy as a mare now." Micah said happily. "How are you, aunt?"

"Wonderful. I am wonderful." She said as the two began to walk again, the woman walking a little too quickly for Micah as she began to complain about the servants in the house, the supplies, furniture, and about the rising groups of bandits in the country.

"Aunt, you are walking a little too fast. I can't seem to keep up." Micah called out to the woman, who finally stopped, clicking her tongue in annoyance.

"You are a healthy young man and you can't keep up with an old lady like me?" She asked as Micah finally caught up with her.

"You are not old, aunt. I dare say you might look younger than my mother." He said, trying not to show how out of breath he is.

"Charmer you are. Just like your father." She said, clapping her hands together suddenly. "Oh no! I just remembered something."

"What's wrong?" Micah asked, concern written all over his face.

"I hired a carriage to get the most important ingredients from the marketplace. They are the king's favourites, he shared that with your father." She sighed, shaking her head. "I am far too busy to go get it. I guess we will not be able to have that tonight."

Micah fell silent, thinking as the aunt began to walk to the house.

"Wait! Aunt!" he called, walking quickly to her. "The marketplace is not far from here. I can take the carriage."

"But are you sure?" She asked in a sickly sweet tone. "The governess is not going to be with you."

"But I have gone enough times to know my way, besides the shopkeepers all know me. Let me go, aunt. Please?" He begged, giving her his best smile.

"Fine. Fine. I can't deny you anything, can I?" She said, "Go on but be quick about it."

"Ok!"

_________________

On the way back from the marketplace with a box full of parsnips and a few extra fruits from the shop owners in the marketplace, Micah smiled happily.

He knew what the woman was talking about. Parsnip soup with four kinds of meat, twenty different spices and seven other vegetables.

He hated eating it but his father loved it and now, it's been years since he last smelt the soup. He couldn't wait to get back.

But his excitement is short-lived when the carriage suddenly turned over and everything crashed down.