TCTE Short Fiction Contest

The Wolf and the Girl of Woven Light

by Angela Huynh

     Their fear falls off in flakes, breaking away from their skin and cascading to the ground gently, like feathers plucked from a bird.

     An invisible wind blows their fear towards me, embedding those little black specks into my own flesh, causing the words carved on my skin to pulse contentedly. I smirk, striding down the hall as students stream out of classrooms. The moment they see me, they recoil towards the arched windows, clutching notebooks to their chests, looking at their feet to avoid eye contact.

     Pfft. As if I can’t collect their fear either way. As if they can deflect the power of the strongest student at the Academy. As if they had—

     “What’s with his cloak?” comes a whisper on my right.

     A stinging shiver goes down my spine. A pile of emotions resurface. I stumble to a stop.

     Then a part of me snaps, and I whirl to the voice. A young boy stops dead in his tracks, his eyes wide as if he has just realized how much that whisper would cost him.

     “Why? Do tattered cloaks not suit your taste?” I sneer.

     The boy backs away, holding his hands up in front of him. “N-no, I didn’t mean that, I d-didn’t…” His fingers glow with a subtle navy blue, his hands shaking. There is a word on his left palm, one that lights up with the same colour. It says: afraid.

     “Are you so smart that you get to choose everyone’s wardrobe?” I advance towards him. “And seems like you’re so brave that all you do is whisper behind your shivering hands!”

     I feel a word on my right arm glowing, searing, and with a violent slice of my hand from left to right, the boy is thrown to the side, his scream echoing through the now empty hallway as he hits the floor and skids against the worn tiles.

     My hands pull the ripped cloak tighter around my shoulders, and I walk towards him, a snarl on my face as a word begins to burn on the back of my hand. “Weak, that’s what you are!” Following my words, a red and black shadow flings upward from the ground, brushing against the boy’s arm. He yelps out in pain, and a new word sizzles there, as if he’s been burned by a branding iron: weak, it says.

     “The perfect description,” I snarl.

     “P-p-please, s-stop it,” the boy stammers as he scrambles backwards, his teeth clenched, fighting tears. “I-I didn’t do anything.”

     “LIAR!” I yell. My shadows write that exact word along his left forearm.

     He jerks back, tears trailing down his cheeks. His shaking hands glow a frail blue, and he keeps dragging himself away until his back hits a wall.

     “You’re pathetic!” I growl. The word is slashed onto the curve of his neck. “Throwing around insults, thinking you can make a joke out of people?” On the back of his hand. On the side of his left shoulder.

     He’s crumpled on the ground.

     I kneel down in front of him, looking directly into his eyes. He tries to look away. As I said: they all think ignoring me can keep them safe.

     But everyone’s always wrong.

     “You’re nothing.”

     He screams.

     Suddenly I’m being pushed backwards, a screen of yellow light inflating in front of me and shoving me until I’m skidding against the floor.

     I yell out in surprise, and then the light fades. Snarling, I pick myself up, whipping towards the boy. He’s still on the ground, the word “nothing” freshly carved into his cheek.

     But this time, a girl stands beside him, her hand held out, palm facing me.

     I laugh. “Came to save the day? If you think you can stop me, then you’re as short-sighted as he is.” Red and black shadows burst out of the air, leaping towards her like a wolf having seen its next meal.

     She smiles softly. “I wouldn’t judge people before they’ve introduced themselves.” Beams of yellow light appear, and my shadows are swallowed by them, disappearing completely.

     “H-how did you—” I cut myself off, and my eyes narrow. “You have no business here! You’re just an interruption in our little conversation.” Shadows jump out at her.

     She doesn’t even flinch. She kneels down next to the boy, and asks, “Are you okay?”

     A sparkling, golden forcefield forms around them, and when my shadows hit it, they evaporate.

     I stand there, gaping.

     “I-I’m okay,” the boy nods.

     The girl takes his arm, helping him up. “He can’t hurt us,” she says, smiling at the boy. “As long as we don’t let him.”

     The boy looks at me, unsure.

     The girl nudges him, and he looks up at her. “Trust yourself, and believe. Do you believe?”

     “I…” He hesitates. Then, he closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he nods and says, “I believe.”

     A navy blue force field emerges, growing even bigger than the yellow one. He gasps, and the girl laughs.

     “See?” she says. “You just have to realize there’s light inside of yourself. And that you can cast the light anywhere.” The girl looks at me then, and she smiles. “And I know there’s light inside of you, too. All you need to do is embrace it, and you’ll have it again. It’s never too late.” She shrugs. “But it’s your choice.”

     She turns back to the boy. “Come on, let’s go.”

     He grins, then hobbles alongside her down the hall.

     I don’t say a word. I don’t go after them.

     Instead, my legs feel weak, and I fall to my knees. I unfasten the cloak around my shoulders, holding it in my hands. The fabric has claw marks in it, torn at the edges and ripped in large gashes.

     The cloak smells like a wolf.

     And I smell like one, too.

     “W-who am I?” I ask.

     For the first time in a long time, I cry.

 ~*~ 

     The school bell chimed a while ago, but the sound is still playing in my ears. I love the tinkling of brass against brass. That was one of the reasons why I missed this school so much. But don’t get distracted, I tell myself.

      Spotting a door opening on the fifth floor, I run up the rest of the stairs, slipping through the door as a young student quickly walks out of it, bag slung over one shoulder. The bag is still open.

     “Oh, you forgot to close your—” but the door slams shut before I can finish. I sigh. “Aww… Well, that’s okay. I guess there’s no point in that anyway.”

     A group of students is speed-walking towards the nearest exit, glancing around nervously as if they are expecting an ambush.

     “What’s with everyone?” I ask when a teacher scrambles past me, stuffing papers into his bag—crumpling them in the process— as he makes his way to the stairwell door.

     Suddenly, a shrill scream rings through the hallway, and I stumble back in surprise.

     The teacher must’ve heard it, too, as he lets out a whispered, “I’m sorry, I can’t,” before he pushes open the door and disappears into the stairwell.

     Then, three students are barrelling down the hall towards me. One girl, two boys. They are running with such desperation that I think a wolf must be biting at their heels.

     “I can’t believe he said that!” says one boy, his voice stricken with fear.

     “I-I warned him so many times already!” cries the girl, her eyes welling up with tears. “W-what am I going to tell Mom? She’s g-going to–”

     “First of all,” shouts the other boy, “let’s focus on getting out of here before he decides to come after us, too!”

     “Who’s ‘he?’” I exclaim. “What are you talking about? Who’s hurt? What’s happening?”

     But they just rush past me and when they reach the stairwell door, they nearly tackle one another, trying to be the first to get out.

     I take a deep breath, turning back down the hall where the scream had come from. I can’t just leave them there. I have to help. There has to be a way.

     I hear another scream, this time followed by someone else’s voice — the tone bitter and loud.

     I start walking towards the source of the scream, and the closer I get, the more words I can make out in the argument. “...Throwing around insults, thinking you could make a joke out of people?”

     I hear the thud of a slumped body hitting the ground.

     “Who’s doing this?” I whisper. I will myself to keep moving forward, to turn the corner of the hallway…

     And there, his back turned to me, is a boy with blackened hair and skin, bright red words carved into his flesh. There are so many words that it looks like his skin is made from an interconnecting river of burning scars.

     A young boy is on the floor in front of him, crumpled.

     But what scares me most of all is the tattered cloak the charcoal-skinned boy has around his shoulders. The cloak with claw marks. The cloak that smells like a wolf.

     The cloak I had worn the last time I was alive.

     “You’re nothing.”

      I scream at the same time as the young boy.

     My legs numb, I fall to the floor, landing flat on my back.

     It’s not him, I tell myself, but knowing that I am wrong. I push myself up to a sitting position.

     The boy with the cloak has fallen as well, and I notice a girl standing beside the other limp boy, her hand held out in front of her.

     The boy with the cloak has just gotten up, and for a brief moment, he is facing me.

     I see a face twisted in rage, teeth bared, lips snarling. On his face are a mess of words: betrayal, hate, power, loss. I don’t recognize his expression. Don’t recognize all those words. No, I’m lying. I recognize one word. The one that is carved on his cheek. It says: Sakolia.

     That is my name.

     And that is when I know it is him.

     “No.” My throat is constricted, clogged by tears.

     It can’t be him. It… It can’t be.

     More yelling. More explosions of colour.

     He wouldn’t do that. That’s not him. STOP SAYING THAT IT’S HIM!

     But the truth keeps slipping through, the way a water droplet would find its way into your palms, no matter how hard you tried to press your hands together to stop it.

     It is him.

     The boy and girl are walking away now.

     I see the boy with my cloak, his back turned to me and his hands shaking as he holds onto the tattered piece of fabric. “W-who am I?”

     For the first time in a long time, I see him cry.

     I remember how he used to say to me, ‘Don’t wipe away your tears. They’re your armour of crystals, protecting you from anyone who wants to hurt you again.’

     I lean forward on my knees and hands, crawling towards him so that I can face him. His shoulders are shaking, his face dipped towards the ripped cloak.

     Reaching out a hand, I place it onto his shoulder, my fingers resting protectively on it.

     “Sajeo.”

     His head jerks up, eyes wide. There are tears trailing down his cheeks, but it all stops when he sees me.

     “Sis?”

     When he speaks, I hear his voice. His true voice. Not the one he used just a few moments ago. This is the voice I remember. This is the voice I know.

     “H-how can it be…?” he asks, glancing down at the cloak. But then he shakes his head at it, and tackles me with a hug that nearly makes me fall back. “I thought you were…”

     When he lets go of me, his words trail off as he looks at me more carefully. I close my eyes.

 I know what he sees.

     My skin is transparent, my features woven                                                        

 with light and sparkles that glimmer and glow. People don’t see me. My hands cannot feel.

     Except, that is, when I’m with the person I love most.

     When I’m with my big brother.

     “I don’t know who I am,” he says, and I open my eyes.

     He’s looking at the cloak. His eyes are grey, with flecks of red. His skin is made of searing words, the words that have found their way inside him.

     “You’re Sajeo.” My hand is still on his shoulder. I don’t take it away. “You’re kind,” I point to a word on his arm, one that has faded but is still visible. Kind, it says. “You’re caring,” I point to another word, one that has been crossed out, but hasn't disappeared. Caring. “You’re brave,” I point to the word, the one that is buried underneath all the searing red ones, but is still there. Brave. “Honest.” I point to the word. “Proud.” “Friend.” “Brother.”

     I rest my hand on the tattered cloak. “That day, you saved me.” We don’t look down at it. We look at each other.

     “No, I didn’t,” he whispers weakly. “The wolf… it came at you, and I couldn’t protect you. It dug its claws… its claws went into your cloak and… and into you. I didn’t save you,” he chokes on a sob. “You died.”

     “But you kept the cloak,” I said. “The cloak might remind you of the wolf, but you still kept it, didn’t you? It’s because your love for me is stronger than the wolf and what it did. You kept it because even though you had to hold the shadows with you every day, you’d also be holding me.”

     I rest my hand on his cheek, my fingers touching the carved word of my name on his skin. “You’re my brother. You’ve always been stronger than the wolf that hurt me. But now there’s a wolf inside of you, and I need you to be stronger than that one, too.”

     He closes his eyes, clenching them tightly.

     “Sajeo?” I ask.

     When he opens his eyes, I no longer see the grey and red in them. I see the soft, brown ones, the ones that always made me feel better when I was small.

     The vibrant, burning words on his skin begin to fade away, peeling off him like snowflakes defying gravity.

     And then, he picks himself up. When I stand to look at him, I don’t see that monster.

     I see my brother.

     “Don’t leave me,” he says.

     I reach out, taking the cloak from his hands. Holding it up, I wrap it around his shoulders, fastening it where it belongs. I stand back. There are tears in his eyes, but none in mine.

     “I would never leave you,” I say.

     A wolf howls somewhere in the distance.

     But my brother is here.

     And I know I’ll never need to be afraid again.