The Orphan

Beginning of a novel or novella, depending on how I feel about the story.

On September 25, 1781, I died for the first time. I met him, the Sage, quite by chance. All the sounds of the forest dissolved into silence.

His white hair refused the sunlight that otherwise showed the trees no mercy. Yet, he was surely younger than I.

I couldn't have spoken to him. How could I? How could I! Just the way he stood, his hair in the wind, that young yet wise face—that alone left me speechless. He caught sight of me before leaning down with a knowing smile to pluck a white mushroom. A tree trunk stood beside him, from which the white growth hung down.

I should have asked him right then. Exactly when my mouth refused to work. And even if I had. What would have changed? Nothing.

"Do you know it? The lion's mane mushroom?" the Sage began to speak. He brushed the partially blackened tree where he crouched. The growth hung limp against the wood, short and prickly.

With all my strength, I forced myself to shake my head, even though I knew it well, that mushroom.

"A true imposter." The Sage tilted his head. "It looks like an animal, tastes like lobster, but is actually nothing more than a mushroom. As if it didn't know what to do with itself."

I know I will never forget that.

Even as he passed me by, when in the end I couldn't reveal what rested inside me. Even though I didn't speak, I found what I was looking for.

His back seemed to grow larger with every step that led him away from me.

My journey was not yet complete.

This day never let me go.

"Hey! Stop dreaming."

"Leave me alone, leave me alone," I answered the stranger.

"Doing nothing, then, and still getting paid? The Overseer won't like that."

"I am doing something. I'm dreaming, so leave me alone."

Offended, the young man turned away from me and muttered something to himself. At the same time, he dug into the brown earth with a shovel.

"If I find it, it'll be mine alone," he said.

Meanwhile, I sat on the ground with one knee drawn up, my shovel resting beside me. In my daydream, I had subconsciously counted the dug holes: "Two hundred and eighty-three, two hundred and eighty-four..."

Three days had already passed since my meeting with the Sage. My caretaker used to say, don't regret what you do. But now I've realized that you are much more likely to regret what you don't do.

If only the sun hadn't been so hot that day, and the sky not so raw blue. There wasn't a big grin on my face, but my brows were raised higher than usual. Perhaps I could have gathered the courage to ask, to seek an answer, if the sun hadn't been so captivatingly bright.

Beyond all the holes stood a building. It was a half-timbered house with a thatched roof, with a small tower rising at its left end. On the path we had also taken to get here, a person was approaching us.

I really didn't want to work. So I lay on my back and counted the clouds instead of the pits. What must it be like to be a cloud? Do they have goals, or names?

That last thought burned itself into my mind even before I closed my eyes. Do I have a name? When I opened them again, a childlike face was looking down at me. It had large, searching eyes, in which I saw a pathetic reflection.

"Father is calling," it said without blinking.

"Already?" I asked, turning my head away because of the closeness and sitting up.

"'They are to rest today,' Father said. His face was swollen, if you catch my meaning."

"Probably because he's not really working over there," I said, gesturing toward my resting partner beside me. He was drinking from a small glass bottle. I actually knew him; we had spent the last 18 years under the same roof.

"Funny. Nothing escapes the Overseer," my partner said.

The child turned its gaze to him: "Did you find it?"

He shook his head. "I hardly dare to think it, but maybe... possibly the Overseer is wrong."

"Then stop thinking. If anyone knows where something is, it's Father." The boy pointed to the building behind him. "It can't be that hard to call him Father instead of 'Overseer'. He is calling for you."

The childlike boy held out his hand to me. I took it and pulled myself up. While he helped my partner, my gaze fell upon the black ring on my thumb. My eyes lingered for a while.

It was supposedly the only thing my parents left behind: a completely black ring. When I slipped it onto my largest finger a few years later as a child, it refused to ever come off.

Without realizing it, I was already walking along the sandy path with my work partner and the child. It led back to the orphanage, from where the child had joined us. I could feel the warmth of the sand through my boots.

"What's wrong with you? You haven't been yourself these past few days. You were the one digging so eagerly," my partner said, swinging his hand to point at the dug holes.

I stared at the sand. What should I have answered? That I met the Sage by chance and now I want to travel? He wouldn't understand.

Besides, I knew a rat when I saw one. The child walked ahead of us with an appearance of complete innocence. At the same time, I knew this kind of person, the kind who is no different as a child than as an adult. The boy had ears almost the size of his head. Everything I said out there, Father would hear too.

Ultimately, I looked my partner in the eye—perhaps for the first time today—and said, "The sun doesn't always rise in the east."

He stopped for a second, blinked rapidly, and then walked on. I had known him for a really long time. My shovel dragged through the sand with a clinking sound, but my partner carried his shovel over his shoulder.

On the way back, we passed a small garden bed that held little greenery. We were just leaning our shovels against the wall next to the door as the child was already pushing the wooden door open. After only a few steps inside, he stopped.

I forgot the sounds coming from the orphanage, and that I was standing. One look at the Overseer's face was enough to make me shudder. Again and again, his yellow eyes appeared red to me.

"Wash up. We eat shortly," the Overseer said. His right hand never left the area of his hip.

I had the impression that Father—the Overseer, I mean—was staring at me. And his face really was swollen.

After a nod, the child ran first toward the well. After a brief look around, my partner followed.

"You stay with me after the meal," Father commanded then.

"I understand." Before I could even finish speaking, Father had already turned around.

"One more thing. What we are looking for, what is it exactly?"

He faltered in his step. He never faltered in his step. "You will see, when you find it."