V. Johnson, “Portrait of a Runt”
“What does it mean to be human?” She asks, cocking her head when I glance over at her. Her gaze is fixed on the cover of the book I’ve propped up on my knee and she’s moved from her spot in the corner to perch in the large windowsill to my right. She’s sitting in my usual spot and, though her small body doesn’t fill even half the usual space I do, I briefly find myself irritated. But I smother the feeling in favor of what should be simple maternal warmth. Surely the owl-girl has been residing with me in my quarters long enough for such emotions to present themselves.
Her wings are neatly folded against her body and her too-clean white feathers are fluffed to hide her tucked legs. I could reach out and touch her if I so wished. With a slow sigh, I close my book—a ragged copy of Innocence in The Eyes of Eternal—and set it on the desk in front of me as I turn in my chair to stand. Circling around to the window, she shuffles to the side, her clawed feet leaving little marks in the wood.
“Well, I don’t quite know.” I slide my hand a little closer just to tease her. She makes odd little chirps of protest as my fingertips stop just before reaching the downy feathers below her chest. Chuckling, I draw my hand back. “There’s the human soul, human body, human mind, even the human spirit if you consider it separate from mind and soul.”
The answer does not seem to satisfy her, for she does not understand.
“But… Jules, what if you have a human soul, but not a human body?” She hops onto my desk with a heavy thump and a glass paperweight disappears into her fluff. “Can you still be human?”
“The Eternal believes anyone can be human, little sparrow! Even those that this kingdom has decided to dredge up from the muck of the southern swamps. Lizardskins and Siulk, not worth the scraps from human tables, but they are invited in under the eyes of Eternal. Do you know why, my robin?”
She pauses in the meticulous duty of preening herself to blink dumbly at me, surprised by my casual use of such derogatory terms for the swamp peoples and my sudden question. I frown.
“I should have you study the verses, you’re clearly not remembering my words. But, for your benefit, I will repeat myself again. They are let in because of what happens after the first death. One loses their body entirely, letting it rot and feed others. Without a body, there are no such impurities about someone. They only have a soul remaining. And this soul of theirs takes on the perfection of humanity as they sap the world’s knowledge into themselves.” I pause to circle behind the desk and grab a glass from a small shelf in the wall. Under the row of glasses, is a bottle of a bitter alcohol said to bring clarity to the mind, and I pour myself a drink of it. “Once they understand, they lose their barbaric ways, and adapt to that which is right. Then, the soul is allowed to enter true Eternity as one of us.”
I hear a bit of a clatter as she stumbles over the paperweight in an attempt to reach the far end of my desk.
“Oh, dear.” I let myself grin when she falls forward atop some papers and struggles to lift her top-heavy body up again. Watching her brings about a sort of glee I hadn’t experienced until I met her. It was like watching a garden snake try to swallow a too-large something with spines. I let her be for a moment, sipping my drink, before sighing and grabbing her by the scruff of her neck. I pull her upright and let her try once more to move over or around the paperweight.
“What if you don’t have a soul?” She beats her wings and finally makes it across the wooden surface. And, in honesty, it’s a good question. Thankfully, I have an answer.
“Then you are not human.”
Yet again, this answer does not satisfy her. Not because she doesn’t understand, but because she does. She knows she has no soul. There is a reason she is one of only a few of her kind in the world. Her mother was an Apostle of Eternity who had served the church faithfully long into her elder years. Never once did she ever proclaim her hidden filth, the desires that warped her soul at night. Unfortunately, the Eternal knows all, so she did not have to proclaim them at all. One evening, alone in the church with scriptures about her, it is believed through referencing the scarce list of prior incidents that she was struck with sudden agony when desires dared to threaten her again.
No one knows how long it lasted, but when the Minister found her in the morning, she had already rotted, and a single egg sat at her feet. The creature borne from it did not cry when it hatched, when it wished to feed, when pricked with needles by doctors testing it for purity.
It did not make a sound unless it was brought before the divinity of Eternity. Then, it would scream as if burning. It had no soul, exchanging one for flightless wings.
“But… do you think I could be hu-” The second she speaks those words, I slam my hand down on the desk hard enough to sting my palm. Her wings spread out defensively and she instinctually postures, her eyes wide. I lunge and grab her scrawny neck, throwing her to the floor. My drink spills but I pay it no mind, setting the glass down calmly. Feathers fly up from her as she tries to right herself and flee, but stops when my boot hovers over her left wingtip.
“Don’t you ever ask something so foolish again, my dear. You know you are not human. You do not have what it takes to be human. You are soft and fragile, there isn’t a single firm bone in your body. You would bend to the will of a dog if it so much as barked at you. A human knows how to resist, to defend itself with what it knows is waiting for it. You are a mistake, an abomination that should’ve been brought to justice in the church your mother defiled.”
Words escape her grasp, leaving her only to desperate screeching. I am tempted to press down, to feel a small crunch and know I’ve accomplished something with her, but I refrain. The Minister will be visiting tomorrow. She cannot be damaged, else I lose her to some odd family in the city that will never teach her properly.
“Hush, Eve. Now.” I step away, leaving the bird-girl on her back. “It’s almost sundown, you should get some rest. I’ll prepare a list of verses for you to memorize tomorrow evening. Off you go then.”
As always, I merely stare as she struggles.
