The Parting Stalac

Word Count: 1066 Average Read Time: 5:20 Time Finished: Evening of the Eighth day, pre-supper, after lots of deliberation

The birthing had been harder on Mhrnsh than he’d thought it would be.

Purposefully expelling himself at the triumphant end of the long ceremony had been a very troubling thing for him to do, but also something very necessary. He might have ruined the moment by staying: his utterly selfish feelings dominating his mind which would- and should- have been focused on the miracle which had just occurred for his friends, Shnndr and Kshtk.

Mhrnsh thought his friends would understand. Perhaps not immediately, but certainly as time would pass. But that was the last thing on his mind right now.

He rushed to his partner. They had something of great importance to discuss.

What he had just experienced helped him to make a decision he had been wrestling with for the last long while, since their last failed birth together. There was no denying, to Mhrnsh, that the troubles the Stalac had with the miracle of birthing were somehow related to the great quakes which had been happening for the last few years. Ever since the first one, which had happened shortly after Mhrnsh was finally considered to be of age, there had been difficulties… and with each passing quake, the difficulties seemed more apparent to him.

No one knew what was causing these disturbances. No one had cared to find out, because to do so would mean leaving the safety of the caves which the Stalac spent their entire lives in. No one had been damaged, or Crumbled, because of the quakes. It was a minor annoyance that most around him simply attributed to the ever-deeper tunnels they were digging. It was easier that way.

But Mhrnsh knew the answer was out there. And this past experience helped him resolve to find it himself.

His partner, Shhkt, had some reservations, of course. He was very much a Stalac, in very many ways. One which often came up in this conversation was “Staying in the Caves.” It was rumored that many bad things had happened to those who had left the caves, for whatever reason. Dusting Stones, the worst punishment that could befall one of their own was to be driven from the caves and forced to spend the rest of their years on the surface. Going out there was akin to asking to Crumble, to be unmade.

Mhrnsh was going to leave this place. But he first needed to convince Shhkt.

Opening the door they’d carved themselves out of a mightily large piece of Shale, Mhrnsh burst into their house. There was Shhkt, sitting in the living area, softly glowing in the soft glow of their Crystal. He noticed Mhrnsh almost immediately.

“Welcome back, Mhrnsh. Did Kshtk and Shnndr’s birthing end in tears, or in light?”

Shhkt’s voice was immediately soothing to the still very startled and emotional Mhrnsh. He lost all thought, and immediately went to join with Shhkt. Joining was faster than talking, after all. At least when it came to emotions.

They Joined quickly, touching heads and gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. In his mind, Mhrnsh could see exactly how Shhkt was feeling at that moment: The hopeful thoughts he had concerning their friends’ Birthing, the worries he had about their own, the concerns he felt when Mhrnsh walked in unlit. And, of course, Shhkt could see all of Mhrnsh’s feelings. Including his resolve to find what was preventing them from successfully having a child.

Their Joining broke as quickly as it had formed.

“Oh, my Opal, please say I might convince You to stay,” said the voice of the only Stalac who had always been there for him. “I do not want to lose You to Your travels.” Shhkt spoke with the tiniest hint of yellow glow showing from his chest… and and accompanying bit of fear tinting his voice.

Mhrnsh, however, was inconsolable. “To have to go through what we have gone through, when our bond is just as strong as the one which Shnndr and Kshkt share, is something which I cannot allow to befall us any longer.” His voice did not tremble, but it did waver… or perhaps falter, as he had been doing so much as of late. “I do not want to leave You, or the caves. And I certainly do not want to be lost to skies… But I cannot continue on like this. It is crumbling me with every passing day. And I know it has not been easy on You, either, Shhkt.”

Shhkt started to object, but caught himself. Taking a moment to think things through, he calmly said, “Yes, these years have been hard. Ever since the brittling quakes, things seem to have been getting worse. But losing You would be too much to bear.” Shhkt took a step back, and looked away. “I was so sure the last Birthing would work. We did everything right, cut every edge so perfectly. He would have been such a wonderful child, to carry on after we begin to crumble away.”

Looking back at Mhrnsh, he then said, “But having You there was what got me through that. I would have fallen apart if it weren’t for You. I couldn’t have borne that third failure if it were with anyone else.” Shhkt implored, “Is there no other way? Something else we could try, before casting You off to the damnable skies?”

Mhrnsh looked into the eyes of the one he cared so deeply for, and they both knew the answer. It only fell to him to say it.

“We’ve tried everything we could think of. This is all that is left, my Stone.”

That simple word of affection now felt as though it weighed two tons, dropped upon the feelings currently flowing through Shhkt. He flared Yellow, and the Deeply Translucent blue of sorrow, casting sea green light which both reflected and emanated from Mhrnsh as well. They both saw the sincerity of each other’s emotions, and then, Shhkt took his partner in a (very rare for the Stalac) embrace.

“Stay tonight, then. Leave after one more recess together. It will have to last us quite a long time.” That was very true, and they both knew it. It was common knowledge that few Stalac who left would ever return to the caves. It may well be their last evening together.

Mhrnsh would make sure it was one they would not soon forget.

The Birth of a Stalac

Word Count: 1271 Average Read Time: 6:22 Time Completed: First Day's Sprints

The room was lit a holy shade of blue.

It would be unusual, on any other day. Laughable, even, for someone to expend enough of their energy in such a show of intense emotion. But on a day like today, the day when there would finally be a child brought into this world, all around would gladly show their support.

The couple in question had been trying for the last 5 years to conceive such a bonding testament to their union. I had grown up with them, a constant friend and companion through troubling times. But without such a friend, they had told me, they could not had gotten through this.

To see them now, enacting that union they had so deeply and truly wanted, made me falter.

Falter is indeed the right word, though it left an odd color as it left my mind. Faltering in three ways, as their heads began to glow over the child they wished to create.

First, in the utter beauty of it all. I had only ever been witness to three conceptions, and one of which I was interested more in the technical side of things than in the spectacular moment.

It was surreal: Others of importance in both of their lives gathered around, lending the soft blue glow of their emotions to the room which would otherwise be black as obsidian or coal. The couple, enamoured more than ever with one another, stood at the center of it all arms stretched over their past weeks' labor- a collection of precious stone cut just right, and assembled overtop of an inscribed circle.

To reproduce, it was said, there needed to be both an intense fire and a deep determination between those involved. Constructing Your child by hand, or overseeing a very close friend's hand if You lack the skill, was indicative of the latter. And if You lacked the former, well...

Shhndr's light faltered just a hair, and only for a split moment. Should it go out, or dim too long, it would spell disaster for their unborn child. Deep fire, deeper than anything else in life, was needed to be successful.

Especially in recent years.

Shutting that thought deep from my mind, I focused my emotions on the task at hand. Our role was secondary, of course, but our light would help mask any faltering of their own, lest their partner notice and begin to doubt themselves as well. The avalanche of pain would claim many a child from parents with too few friends and too many faltering thoughts.

Which brought me back to my own, and reminded me of the second reason I falter as I stand here in support. The reason which shook me and my close ones whenever we thought of children. The reason that I could not stand by my friends 100% as they moved on to the next stage of their lives.

I was not unpopular.

Three Births, including the one which taught me what it was. Two births by friends. And though I was far from crumbling, I could not claim youth as my excuse anymore. There should be more, and would be more, were it not for all of the failing births I had seen over the years.

Why were people no longer able to do that which was once so normal a part of Stalac life? Why did one in every 10 or 15 ceremonies end with meeting a newborn, and the rest end with crushing despair and bitter, bitter darkness? Why were we not able to conceive, though we wanted no more than to be with one another?

Why couldn't we?

My light went out as my mind began to reel uncontrollably in response to that question. I focused on the stone walls, old and strong and firm in resolve. I tried to push that angst from my mind, on this very important day. That third reason to falter, the real reason behind it all, was not important right now. I must be here for Shhndr and Kshtk.

I took just the smallest step back, and then one step forward to make up for it. Looking straight ahead, I imagined myself as I was, without light: My perfectly polished edges shining only the reflection of those around me, the only light present my two yellow-green eyes.

And then, I imagined the light once again falling from my body, and gushing into the room around me. I imagined those around me reflecting my own light back instead. And I thought of my friends, and how hope has helped heal heinously hardened hearts in the past.

And hope sprung from me again, along with my light, blue as the fabled 'sky' from the stories the wanderers would regale the children with. Those same stories which would soon be told to the child lying there in the middle of the room, beneath Kshtk and Shhndr.

They were both emanating streams of that same color. Was that..? No. I urged myself not to revise what I saw with what I only wished to see. Casting my gaze to those around me for a second, and then back to them, I saw it again: A tint of red in the otherwise holy blue. It was faint, but definitely present, and in both of them.

I heard a surprised gasp from across the room as someone else noticed it too. "When hope springs eternal, eternal springs life." That was the mnemonic my parents had taught me when I first was to see the miracle of a birth. Hope was blue, and life was red.

Shhndr and Kshtk, however, were both rapidly glowing purple. A deep purple. Deeper and deeper, until they could go no further. Their light outweighed and overpowered ours, though we were not to stop our labor until they had stopped theirs. This, I had seen, was a very wise bit of advice, for what comes next can easily be ruined by a lack of constant and consistent support.

The bright purple glow was snuffed suddenly, and all that remained were the faint blue glows bordering the room. The center, both couple and child, were unlit, as unlit as those without life might be.

This was the dangerous part of a birth, and the one which had always been so. It was not unheard of for life to be taken instead of given here; A fate which forced the lone survivor to live alone for the rest of their lives in remorse for their crumbled partner, and their child who would never get the chance to crumble.

I could not think in that one moment. All I could do was glow.

No reaction.

Glow.

No change.

GLOW.

And then, miraculous release! Both Shhndr and Kshtk sprang back to life, with their purple union draining softly into the body beneath them. Though they would fade to normal, if satisfied, shades of greenish blue, it was the child which drew one's eye. Bright red, brighter than ever shown by those born even only a few lessons ago, shone from their body.

And slowly, they began to move.

First, a leg. Then an arm, and then the head— and there were the eyes, bright and yellow amidst the newborn red. They pushed themselves up, to sit on the ground, as their eyes fell upon the sated and sighing couple beside them.

This was too much for me. Too beautiful, too perfect... Too close to home.

I left the room, my inner light snuffed by thoughts of despair and frustration, as they spoke their first words.

"What will You call me, parents?"