Shake Me Awake

a covid sketch

February 17th, 2020 @ 2:22 AM

My first alarm of the day drives me out of my sleep. My body is jello trembling like it’s never held the weight of my soul any more. My stomach wobbles too, but it stills when it recognizes that it needs food before rumbling a demand for it at me.

I walk on bone soft legs to the kitchen in the corner of my studio. I already planned to eat tamago kake gohan for my first meal of the day. Before I went to sleep, I set the rice cooker with a timer, and it’s already steaming away as I open the fridge. When I grab the egg from the fridge, the beep of the rice’s cook coming to an end breaks through the silence of the house. I rapidly grab the soy sauce, and kimchi jar and close the fridge.

I move over to the counter and place the bottle and jar down. I hit the warmer button on the cooker, and pop open the lid. My mouth floods with water at the delicious carby smell of the steam wafting off the rice. I grab my favorite bowl from the cabinet. The feeling of the cool ceramic under my fingers excited me to swallow my drool. I add some rice wine to the rice before fluffing it up with the spatula hanging behind the cooker.

I am almost in tears at the beauty of the grain as I fill up my bowl. I pile my rice high, and make a small divot at the top. I pick up the egg and crack it into the impression. The orange yolk shines like a little sun just waiting to greet the day. It’s refreshing, as we rarely get to see the suns anymore.

It has been three years since I last saw more than the occasional streak of sunshine through the smog that covered the town. I look out my kitchen window watching as the thick clouds roll passed as if they had somewhere to be. The smoke billowed writhing against itself searching for any air left to be consumed. The magic that animated the clouds flashes occasionally casting the little corner of the kitchen in a sickly purple. I found it quite beautiful despite the truth that one whiff of the magical curse would have you collapsing suffocated. I am glad for the spell of protection that had been placed around the apartment building.

I asked a licensed witch to strengthen the one on my own apartment just to be extra sure that it was secure. The statedom had sent a government witch, but there had been a lot of rumors about them doing more shoddy enchantments in the recent years. I don’t wanna take any chances. I watch too many people submit to the curse out this window in the past three years. Many of these deaths were young adventurers who had answered our mayor’s mission request.

The spell is a difficult and complex blood magic from what I understand, connected to Virgo Stelleti, the son of the owner of Stelleti Steel. The steel factory was the heart of the village until it blew up. It was a mess. The factory held most of the village’s jobs, and many of the villagers died along with Virgo’s father. I hear the explosion was caused by a broken refactor, but there is also the rumor the Stelleti Steel was not up to code. The mixture of grief, truth, and rumor resulted in the village as a whole suing the now defunct factory. This bankrupted the Stelleti family, which drove Virgo’s mother to suicide. It was her blood that was rumoured to have set forth the curse.

After finishing eating, my mind was so full I barely focused on my food. I always seem to be enraptured by the smog and it always drives me to my music. A surge of energy courses through me and I reach for my phone, fingers tapping against the screen as I navigate to the video recording app. Positioning the device on a nearby tripod, I adjust the angle until it captures the kitchen counter and the window beyond. I set up a small front light and use the smog’s glow as a diffusion. I grab my Aslatos and position myself on the counter With a deep breath, I hit the record button, the red light blinking to life as the camera begins to capture my surroundings.

“Hey, everyone,” I begin, my voice wavering slightly with nerves. “It’s me, Enji, I know it’s been a while since I last posted, but I wanted to share something special with you today.”

I hold the string that connects the two gourds between my index and middle finger, wrapping it around my hand with both balls pressed together in my palm. I take a deep breath and click the balls together. I shake them in a rhythm that reminds me of the way my heart used to race when I played in the park as a child. I add in clicks that remind me of the occasional chirp of the crickets that used to keep us company in the afternoon. As the rhythm builds through the room, I feel a sense of peace wash over me, the weight of the world momentarily lifted from my shoulders. For a brief moment, it’s just me and the music. I was a solitary figure alone in the smog, but as I shoot and flip flop I am playing leapfrog with my older brother before the explosion. I feel my feet swing as they want to dance across the kitchen floor. I let out a laughter of joy and flip flop the balls one more time before clicking them twice in an ending.

I lower the aslatos, and see myself smiling in the forgotten camera. I am startled at the genuine expression of joy on my face but I take in a deep breath releasing my nerves, “Thank you for listening,” I say to the camera, my voice tinged with gratitude. “I hope this brought a little light into your day, as it did mine.”

With a final wave, I end the recording, the red light fading as the screen goes dark. I barely pay attention and quickly edit the footage. I feel nervous when I hear my playing so I just caption the video and clip some of the end and hit the big red post button.

February 28 2020 @ 5:55 AM