Survival

‘With an unforeseen suddenness came down the behemoth instrument yielded no doubt by a savage.

The skies parted to give way to a hammer that ripped open the air that day into a wounded sigh, so immeasurably heavy was that battering contraption, so swift in its delivery that your uncle probably felt no pain. 

I stood in the distance, waiting with the rest of us, your brothers were little boys and you just a baby.

When that hammer lifted, the only trace left of your uncle was a small smear of entrails and the rest of him was still stuck to the savage’s instrument.

 I saw what was left of your uncle and to this day I wish I hadn’t. His limbs were sprawled and mostly mangled. His head was pushed to his abdomen, all that was within him had not just seeped out of his body but mashed together into his organs. His body made no noise as it plopped to the ground in a soft pulp of hideous mess.

As grand as he was, death had left him no dignity. 

Your uncle was the biggest amongst us, much bigger than your father, he had single-handedly brought us all into this safe haven, a place of refuge with food and water, far away from where the savages dwelled.

It was cold but there was silence, the lack of activity was a benefaction from our ancient gods.

It was a difficult journey for us, for our last home was ravaged by savages. We were a much bigger clan then. Families of extended families, big broods of scampering children always running about in relative safety. Sure, there was always a foreboding shadow of distress; it’s a misfortune that me and my mother before me and now others and their children after, were and will be born into a world now overrun by savages. 

An entire race of unseen forces, so monstrous in proportion but with a soul so deficient that they seem to have dedicated themselves to the extermination of our kind. 

I’ve heard some elders talk and known of timeworn legends who sought to make peace with savages, but it always ended in our destruction, one way or the other. They aren’t willing to understand nor hear our beseeching words. Their archaic beliefs of carnage and justifications to bring forth calamity towards all and our kind is how they know to live. What helps them ground their faith into our deathbeds is their sheer size. 

You’ve seen them, daughter, so lumberingly gargantuan are they in size that we are but nothing to them. They often forget that this is or was our world, that they are a life most unknown, alien and new to these lands, that they just suddenly seemed to come out of nowhere to colonize our spaces and now they wish to eradicate our very existence from nature.

Ah, but what was I telling you? yes about our arrival.

It was your uncle who had sensed it. He was the most capable warrior, honing his skills in many a battle, his immunity towards diversified venoms had hardened him. 

There had been attacks on our colonies, but we always came on top. There had been other clans of different enemies, a lot different than these savages. All these wars, now ancient by your standards my dear were for territory. 

That night, at least it felt like night your uncle had come into the hut and the stench of death lingering on his body was enough to apprise us of the approaching savages.

There was death rain brought forth by savages and their horrible magic a few miles east to our hut and we saw how the clouds forming from the vengeful force of that torrential poisonous watershed had begun accumulating into a dense fog, and soon, that mighty rain with its impermeable fog would loom above our heads and when I was your age daughter, I had watched my mother die under that acidulous downpour. 

My memories are saturated with far too many death scenes and too few contented memories. 

It was the gifted alacrity of your uncle that enabled us and a few more families to escape through the tunnels that Savages couldn’t enter. It’s hilarious even at this morbid hour and a bit of comeuppance to know that those tunnels are believed to have been built by savages themselves.

I stopped counting days, I got heavy with your brothers and during one of those never-ending exacting treks to reach a safe place they were born.

The perpetual panic of impending horrors had sucked away whatever joy one could feel at being a mother and I tried to shut away the horrendous shrieks of helpless cries that I’d heard from others who couldn’t escape the indiscriminate gassing of our families. 

I had run out of tears and the pain had balled up in a raging fire, but the unerring need and undeniable truth of leading and giving my family a better life made me repress my feelings.

One day we were out of the tunnels, and the world looked bigger than before. It looked like a new world but we were afraid about others who might be living here or even enemies, but having your uncle at our side made it easy to find a safe space to go about our lives. 

There weren’t any savages living nearby and even though the food was scarce our years of living under permanent hardship have made us into survivors and that is what we did. 

You were on the way and your uncle and father would leave each night to hunt and forage because savages are blind at night and we are nothing if not gifted, my dear daughter. 

Your brothers always such a menace were difficult to control and played about all day, and it hurts me to confess that every time they left the house I thought that was the last I’d see of them. 

I know it’s a cruel thought but at this moment I do not wish to lie to you.

Do you know one day when your brothers didn’t return home I left you alone, tucked away, completely hidden to look for them?

I found myself ensnared in a booby trap by an enemy, not savages, even though it was our territory.

I remember that day as clear as the day you were born. My feet were stuck, it was like a huge net made out of thick ropes and the more I struggled the more helpless I became. I saw the enemy running towards me, ready to pierce my soft flesh and I would be dead today had it not been for your uncle, who fought it away. 

Your brothers were with him. I was so glad, not because I was alive, my darling, but because I lived another day to see you. 

That was the last time we were so lucky, for a few days later the savages found your uncle and killed him.

Did we cry you ask? yes, we did, and just as our ancient rites of funeral decree us, we feasted upon his remains to let his strength seep into us. Even in death, your uncle provided for us.

A few days after that all was quiet. The savages had left, perhaps we could resume our lives again, but with your uncle gone our miseries had only expanded and we saw no way other than existing and persevere.

Your eldest brother had taken after your uncle and he practised his skills with obstinate determination to fill his shoes. He wanted to be a warrior and that day while he was practicing in the yard, and listen to this carefully, daughter, our yard, our very own territory that belonged to us, a savage penetrated his armor with a javelin with such violent extremity that I saw his organs stick to the end of that javelin and get pushed out of his body. 

I couldn’t look. My eldest son, my warrior child brutally murdered in front of my own eyes, and for what? He hurt no-one, he only wanted to be like his uncle, he was dead before he could turn into a man. 

These savages are such unrepentant vicious murderers. How can they live with themselves?

I shan’t cry, I promised your father I won’t cry anymore.

It was decided we’d leave this place. I couldn’t bear to be here, not another moment longer. 

Your father and brother left to scout and find the tunnel that led us here. 

It was nighttime, our safe time, but we were wrong because suddenly it was the day. It wasn’t night at all, and I saw a thick fog fall upon them as they neared the tunnel. The death rain was upon them.

I wanted to scream but my body had shut down. I was in shock, in disbelief. This couldn’t have happened, This can’t happen. My sons, my husband, my family..I wanted to run but you were holding me and how could I ever let go of you? Your big eyes questioned me and I had no answers, as I saw them engulfed in the acidic fog of that rain; heard their screams, saw them choke, watched them beg for air. 

They were scratching at the earth, trying to dig through stone. So desperately were they convulsing I tried to look away but couldn’t. They were shrivelling. It was horrific to even think what they were going through. 

It was a painful death, daughter. A very painful death to know that you’re dying and not be able to do anything.

It’s a gruesome laugh, a most melancholic thought, a macabre bit of fortune that you were killed instantly, my sweet sweet daughter. A crushing blow that flattened you, tiny as you are, inquisitive as you are, never having seen a savage, venturing too close to it. 

Of tears I have none, but I do promise you this, over your dead body, my sweet that I might not be able to avenge you, but I will make life hell for these savages. 

Big as they may be, I come from a line of ancients, of survivors; my ancestors survived a meteor, I’m a roach, I can survive some humans.'