The Boy Who Swallowed The Sun
Little Shama rises from the ashes of her world to take on her nemesis, The Sun. Her valiance in the face of the impossible stuns the world into an achingly long silence that comes to be called peace.
the day was Burning the night was Freezing the child was Sleeping Wake up Wake up, Little Shama look your Uncle is here I come bearing gifts Chocolate for your brother who was up before you he got first pick of course he would pick the chocolate with the colourful cellophane but for you a used tube of son screen a victory, thought Shama Little or Not she knew more than anything that what was meant for sons would always be better than what was meant for daughters Come closer, Shama, let me put it on Rafa your brother is in the corner eating his prize with a sidelong glance like a street dog with a stolen bone Where is my mother, dear Uncle she is with your father packing we’re going on a trip Isn’t that exciting [it was not] Uncle takes Shama’s arm and dots it she can hear her father in the other room packing She’s never heard her father this way at this speed she knows her father in many ways through doors past walls her mother as well by the scent of her cooking she can tell their mood their temperament even though they aren’t near but this is new it’s a new sensation a new word, surely [frantic] but that is not a word she will ever learn not in this life at least Her Uncle having dotted her spreads the screen meant for sons She knows her uncle in this way she’s known it before it makes her feel dizzy A tingling a burning a yearning that only crying can quell Mother! What do you need mother for? She’s busy don’t be bad Mother! shush now shush Shama Mothe- Uncle dots her lips and rubs it in with coarse grubby hands she can’t breathe momentarily ——! Mother Mannat walks in Is everything okay? Uncle has his hands by his side his disposition grows dry Why are you both wasting time? We must leave now! We’re ready, she says. Uncle passes through Mother Mannat and stomps towards his brother Father Fahad. Mother Mannat looks at Shama a knowing gaze a steely gaze like an onyx pit deep and absolute Little Shama often felt trapped in Mother Mannat’s gaze, a prison erected in the corner of her eye that kept her from trouble but rarely kept trouble from her perhaps this was her punishment for being born a girl armed with the son screen now she pushed it out of Mother Mannat’s sight armed with the son screen she would add it to her arsenal of boy’s toys Toys to boys but weapons to her Mother Mannat looked like she hadn’t slept all night We’re leaving now come outside, she said I’m not going anywhere, said Brother Rafa, gorging on the last of the chocolate I’m not asking, said Mother Mannat Shama knew it was serious or else her brother would have gotten his way Rafa strode out Shama waited till she was alone She lifted her frayed mattress and underneath she placed the son screen with other contraband things meant for boys a tattered notebook a broken pencil a blue piece of cloth a half-rubber ball among others items that she would never be allowed had she not maintained a cache out of sight out of the light her provisions ensuring that when the time was right she would be able to take on the boys and win a victory, thought Shama as she looked over her shoulder for spies.
Shama squeezed into the back of Uncle's pick-up truck full to bursting with items that smelled like a place she would never want to visit. Brother Rafa talked to Father and continued his protest Mother Mannat covered her head and waved away the flies and the car spluttered to life after much protest of its own and finally they were off Brother Rafa was protesting because he had promised to meet his friends Who did the car have to meet? was there a conference of vagabond engines, too meeting under the shade of a tree in the afternoon under the guise of discussing poetry but instead discussing girls? Shama knew it was serious or else Father Fahad would have given Rafa an explanation Shama knew it was serious or else Mother Mannat would have plaited her hair Under her headscarf her hair kept slipping the cloth’s embrace not strong enough not loving enough to make the strands of her hair want to stay in place Shama tried to calm her hair and ask it to behave it was nothing special to be unloved. A time would come to wriggle out far and free but that time was not now Little Shama felt fear when thoughts such as this passed through the valley of her mind What if Mother Mannat could hear? What if she would punish her thoughts? Little Shama watched Mother Mannat long and hard to see if she took objection to her thoughts But Mother Mannat was tired and the bobbling car threatened to rock her to sleep But Mother Mannat could not sleep even though her body begged Mother Mannat prayed instead Shama knew it was serious or else why would Mother choose prayer over dream Shama knew it was serious or else why wouldn’t Father wave at the men smoking in the street Their car bobbed ricketed and tumbled through the familiar streets of their town Where are we going thought Shama she looked at Mother but she was too consumed with her own thoughts to pay any attention to her daughter’s For a moment Shama felt free so free in fact that it felt alien ecstatic but alien and she couldn’t decide what she would like to think of now that she new no one was listening What thought would be worthy of freedom ? But the car halted behind more cars snaking down the on-ramp that led to the highway Have they heard as well? asked Father Shama could feel his concern through the seats it soaked the soft fabric it might have left a stain Impossible, said Uncle I know another route don’t worry The car backed up and around the snake and took the bylanes down to a dirt path From where they caught an off-road Where those even poorer than they hid their shadows Shama had never ventured into this part of town she felt her mother’s prayers get louder and desperate How do you know they will let us past? asked Father They’re friends of mine Uncle looked into the rear view mirror I’ve made a deal with them Uncle winked at Shama Brother Rafa looked up from his pocket poetry book and looked around If we were going to leave the city he drawled you could have said something I would have brought my camera Father said nothing Brother Rafa’s camera his prized possession Shama knew that would be her ultimate victory To consume the world one click at a time was true boy power Girls could only pick flowers but flowers would lose their colour and shrivel over time Boys could pick-ture the world that was forever Shama didn’t know where Rafa kept his camera or else she might’ve hatched a plan to steal it risky thought it might be but it would be a risk she would have taken It would be for a good cause Shush, Rafa Let them concentrate said Mother But All I’m saying is- said Brother but Mother glared and he went silent Consuming all that he would have said in an instant There is power in motherhood Shama knew that was why women had babies Girls have some power over what they create only some for a while The car turned the corner of the last shanty and ahead of them was desert road They were well and truly away from home If Shama were to guess she wouldn’t be able to find her way back softly she held onto the hem of her mother’s tunic it made her feel safe Uncle slowed the car to a halt and got out Father followed Rafa got out as well and went to them but he was waved away Shama was glad to have a moment of space she stretched her arms and turned to her mother Mother Mannat had fallen asleep The door was open Shama looked back at her mother careful not to think and slowly moved towards the door She didn’t get out she was neither that brave nor that stupid But she swung her legs off the side and dangled them like vines hanging from a tall tree that took forever and a half to stand upright and knew the stories that had no end But What Deal Have You Struck, Brother? said Father his temperament grating like sand kicked up in the breeze Shama covered her face with her scarf The heat was blazing now the son high in the sky burned with a fury unmatched The son was the boy supreme Shama knew that much it was where boys got all their power it was the source at night the fortunes should have been reversed But the boys were smart they trapped little bits of the sun in candles and lamps and reigned supreme untouched Oh how Shama wished to put out the lights once and for all like her mother would at night before telling them all to go to sleep For it was only once all the lights went out that it was possible to dream the sweet-est dreams the free-est dreams the true-est dreams Truer than the waking hour where the lie of boy supremacy was the unshakeable story binding them all in chains I Said Don’t Worry About It, Brother! said Uncle his temperament shifting like the sands unknow-able untrust-able unbelieve-able This Is My Family We’re Talking About, Brother said Father Don’t Talk To Me As If I Were A Child said Uncle Don’t Forget I’m The One Who Came To Get You To Warn You Or Else There Wouldn’t Be Anyone To Count The Bones Let Alone Bury You Is everything okay Brother Rafa sounded like a boy not the man he thought himself to be Go back to the car and stay with your sister said Father Brother Rafa didn’t like being spoken to this way Shama pretended not to hear it was easier that way to face him Move over said Rafa and Shama did as she was told She brushed up against Mother and she awoke Shama ceased thought The car was off again the heat beating down on them the desert meant there was nothing for miles as far as the eye could see Until there was a checkpost And Mother had never prayed harder her sentiment her fear her devotion But there was no God in this desert Shama could feel it her mother’s prayer reverberating through her bones was she praying for her? Did she know something? How Shama wished she could read Mother’s mind But all she could do was hold on to the hem of her tunic The car halted at the checkpoint the men shouted Holding them at gunpoint As if they’d flouted the last vital law of the land Because upon this day unknown to them all Their only purpose was to die But this was not spoken it was felt in the bones of Little Shama Her superpower was to feel what could not be spoken but she was only Little Had she been older her feeling would meet understanding And she would rule the world but as it stood she was Small And like all children she tried to be good and that meant to be quiet Uncle got out of the car and told Father to follow him Brother Rafa didn’t make a motion in this place he was happy to be a boy not a man Shama could feel the argument the deal that Uncle struck In the bowels of Father’s constitution Had she been older she would have understood That Uncle couldn’t barter a deal to cross on his own He didn’t have anything to barter with What he needed was a heavenly delight on earth Shama the untouched Shama the unblemished Shama the un— But Little Shama was Little Oh So Little And all she could understand was the feeling Of being dizzy Oh So Dizzy Like she would throw up everything that was inside her perhaps more even then she feared it would not be enough to rid herself of this sinking feeling that something was not right Mother’s prayers Father’s fears Uncle’s Leers Shama’s Tears Brother Rafa knowing nothing tried his boyish best not to piss himself Fahad! It’s Shama! She’s fainted Oh My She’s Fainted! Mother always worried Fahad rushed to the car and knew it was all too much He opened the door and Uncle closed it Don’t be a fool, Uncle whispered his tongue like a concealed dagger They Will Attack Today It’s Us Or Her She’s My Daughter said Fahad Mother fanned Shama trying to rouse her her face was red You’ll Have Another One said Uncle If You Survive Think Of Your Son said Uncle He Could Have One Too Father Fahad didn’t allow himself to think about it But Uncle kept swinging his dagger-tongue The Thing Is, Brother Now That We’re Here Either They Kill Us And Take Her By Force Or We Give Her Up Willingly And Live To Tell The Tale Either Way The Attack Is Imminent If The Bombs Don’t Kill Us Today They Will and just like that the dagger pierced Father Fahad’s heart he began to leak first with Sound then with Fury scored to the sound of laughter of those who patrolled the border of hell to whom tragedy was comedy and love was farce told by lovers who came and went by the hour Father Fahad had love within him he kept it in his heart a once impregnable fortress that was now smashed by his Brother who led him to paradise but forgot to mention that the price of admission was everything that made paradise worth chasing to begin with Shama lay in Mother’s arms her scarf covering her shielding her from the desert sun Wake Up Child Don’t Be Afraid Mother Mannat wondered Is This The Will Of God? How Could It Be? and her tears ambrosia fell in rivulets down her stained cheeks and bathed her daughter bone from her side lock from her head and revived her alas bestowing upon her eternal life as only a mother’s love could alas Little Shama looked up to the sky and saw her mother Shama smiled Mother cried Father died clutching his heart that was still leaking The gunslingers laughed Brother Rafa barfed and Uncle, embarrassed chuckled along hoping not to die But Shama looked past her mother to the sky and saw her eternal foe The Son burning bright laughing as it might at the plight of her family in the dust But from the sun the attack had begun and it spelled eternal doom Mother Mannat faltered allowing her scarf to slip in the breeze And the bombs did fall on the city after all Like a carpet that once promised delight And everybody died Except Shama who went blind For the eternity it took the dust to settle But when the world does end the span of eternity does bend and bow before the lost They are one with god now They are god now And They will judge the living
on televisions and radios all over the world the sounds of explosions were heard reverberating out of time heads talked feet walked marching for peace but it was too late the discourse surrounding the topic of the sanctity of life was now a lecture delivered to the rubble and the satellites were overloaded with the cries that unloaded at the horrors that echoed in the bubble In high definition Four K Kalamity Kakophony Kaos Katastophe What more was there to say? a lot as it turned out and they talked and said and swore until bed and in their dreams they dreamt of the usual but when they awoke they spoke some more until their throats were hoarse. And they took antibiotics with their gins and their tonics so they could speak some more in the bars and salons and restaurants they made up songs to sing into the night: first came the roar of planes climbing into the sky then came the whistle of bombs falling from on high after that came the sizzle of homes turning to ash and then came the lore filling the silence that the corpses left behind geno-side in the middle east they called it perhaps the dead had thought to be in the middle was to be safe geno-middle didn’t sound like too bad a fate but they were misinformed the middle east is still on the side of something on the side of wrong? it was hard to say on the side of right? what is that anyway? What’s important to remember is that middles and sides are relative What’s important to remember is to be the one who de-sides And to not be poor or worthy of a second glance in the street To not look like anything that would perturb the elite To be quiet head down don’t ask to be free For by thy master’s hand you live By thy masters foot you sleep The Master’s Name Is Rayel But He Goes By Others As Well But Enough About That! finally when the fires tired hands came forth to offer help to clear the dust of the dead They wore high-visibility vests and glistened with moisturizer so that no one would be confused and drop more bombs thinking they’d missed a spot while they did the Lord’s work finally when the breeze blew away the dust and there was silence a voice rang out through the void the voice of a child crying terrified It was not one of theirs could it be one of the dead come back to life? They must find this child could there be survivors? The news cycle salivated
When the fires tired of burning Shama awoke The dust settled and a breeze blew the smoke clear it blew the dust from her eyes that revealed themselves like pearls her thoughts untraced untracked unchained for the first time in forever she was free and the first free thought that Little Shama got was to cry and cry she did Shush Little Child There’s No Need To Cry There was no one left to say as they often would Perhaps that meant there was now a reason to cry And she would cry she would cry all that she could All that was left of Brother was his pocket poetry book She had no use for poems about pockets So she buried it All that was left of Father was the love that leaked from his heart She couldn’t recognize it from her memories So she covered the wet stain with mud All that was left of Mother was the hem of her tunic She knew it would lead her home So she picked it up She held the hem tight above her head And waited for it to guide her home The breeze blew and the cloth boughed north She picked up her feet and trudged forth slipping into the cracks That once resembled home The desert sand had shifted and revealed the solid ground below But Little Shama knew that sands would shift once more She gave no mind to what she saw She closed her eyes instead And when her mother’s hem did shift She turned direction as well Who sent the breeze to guide Little Shama home ? She knew of no such prayer that would coax their god into this Direction-eering Perhaps it would have been revealed to her when she was older Perhaps it was a true invention of her mother’s desperation She would never know She would never know A tear Little Shama’s knees buckled she fell to the ground, without a sound She wanted to cry to scream on high but that vacuum within her It pulled It pulled and pulled her within Collapsing into herself like a star about to end Itself despite itself unknown to itself that there was yet much work to be done As she gasped for air her memories did care to repeat themselves for old time’s sake to flash before the eyes of the living soon to pass into the deading a final courtesy Little Shama wasn’t entertained too long her short life didn’t have too many highlights what she did remember, though was her mission to outsmart the boys and take her rightful place in the world The world that promised everything to boys And promised only that to girls That they could steal through supplication If they asked nicely a girl could have all she wanted But Little Shama knew the fire of not wanting to ask of taking and forgetting to count the cost she had wanted freedom to begin her quest to take on the boys and win but now it would end like this? It could-n’t be so It would-n’t be so The pit of infinite nothing within her would have to wait She rose to her feet and screamed her booming voice her wobbly gait Roused the Breeze who puffed up her chest and sent a wave her finest, her best And Little Shama grabbed onto Mother’s hem so that she could use it as a sail and it would fly her home Touch-down in front of a mound of rubble that once resembled a home Shama found that all the smells had taken their leave nothing remained that was familiar Little Shama looked up enraged the son that infernal ball of flames laughing at her stalking her she would deal with him in time Stepping forth on to the rocks the headstones now of memory of a once-upon-a-time Shama sat upon a blunt-edge stone and closed her eyes and began to feel To feel by way of memory unburdening herself of reality Little Shama constructed out of the debris the home she had once known The feeling of Father in the other room smoking his pipe and cursing the paper The feeling of Mother in the other room praying to God and cooking their dinner The feeling of Brother in the other room reading his poetry and giggling away The feeling of Walls surrounding her that kept the world at bay Little Shama could have sat upon that stone and lived out the rest of her days her eyes closed her heart extended re-constructing the world she once knew but at this moment when the sun beat down harder teasing her coaxing her she knew all she could afford was a moment’s reprieve There was much work to be done Little Shama dragged the rocks aside with her tiny hands to find That the roof caved in on top of her bed but the bed springs, they were fine She ripped the mattress apart her fingers by now would start To bleed, But she wouldn’t stop until she found what she was looking for Her cache Her tools Her weapons Boy’s! Toys! the ashes served as warpaint that streaked her face this would do better than all the rouge in the world Rogue Shama off to wage her war on the Son Before she turned Rogue Shama learned Of Brother Rafa’s secret at last For out of the stone where he laid his head a light shone What's this? But of course, it was his camera! and Rogue Shama felt a kiss of life perhaps of destiny she felt a calming bliss As if to say Go forth, Rogue Shama! and take on your nemesis But wait a swirl within her Rogue Shama could feel the presence of another of many other-s she was not free! The Son could read her thoughts too could it be? like her mother before why wasn’t she surprised spies everywhere! his minions were afoot Rogue Shama hightailed it and stepped onto the cracks that once were mere hometown streets that could break a million mother’s backs
The search for survivors: it went like this for some it was their life’s work to pick up the pieces of lost causes for some it was extra credit a site for selfies to mourn the losses but a pick up drive to clear the way while the cranes and road rollers await changed the second they heard the voice of a youngling trapped by fate Hello! Can Anyone Hear Me! Raise Your Hand If You’re Alive! the rubble was now pregnant at every turn could there be life dormant lying in wait making their peace with their god? each boulder turned up a question each step taken a quest to see if any poor souls had outlived all the rest but how could a child survive the onslaught of the fires it had to be impossible! it had to be it had to be what shreds of life could they hope to find would they be just in time to hear their last wishes and be obligated to fulfill it? what if they asked to be free at last surely a dying man’s wish must be completed? I Think I’ve Found Someone! Over Here! but over there was just the bones the blood had dried into the ground perhaps they’d heard the ghosts of those who couldn’t ever be found Not amongst the living at least nor counted among the dead for to reach the heavens it was believed your bones must be interred but most of them had turned to dust and scattered across the world it was the kind of migration any nation would promote where the only purpose of refugees was to fertilize the dirt becoming one with the soil sons and daughters, true there could be no finer service nor a direr world view night fell and froze the air the volunteers of peace returned to their tents heated to perfection they wrote home informing them of their troubles of their tireless work how they intended to go on in the face of any hardship that might befall them but their letters were cut short when they heard a shout! Help! Help! My Heater’s Just Gone Out! Woe the tragedy of war
The cold cold night Shama bundled up for dear life The Son had retreated in keeping with the rules of war But Shama Rogue Shama held onto herself for dear life Dear Life she thought I don’t know you very well just yet It’s only been so long that I’ve travelled your roads I wonder how long we all get on this ride threatening at each curve To throw us off into the void We spend our lives, perhaps Just holding on holding on bundled up against the cold for dear life The night, though Shama knew was the domain of the girl She trained her eye as far as she could try on the lookout for a lamp Or a candle perhap-s that would betray the Son’s betrayal Of the ancient rules of engagement but she saw none A half-decent gesture too late too late It would not melt her resolve come morning the battle lines would be drawn once more but she first had to survive the night A breeze picked up and blew away the icicles that rested on Shama Shama looked up and gasped Of Course How Could She Have Missed It? Lamps extinguished matches wasted fires floundered In The Breeze She brought the cool to the heat of the day and whistled in the night Her Song and tonight was no exception Lady Breeze whistled through the ruins and brought warmth to Shama And Sung The Little Warrior to sleep
The next morning that fateful day when the sun had finally come out to play the volunteers resumed their pick up drives and complained about the heat they complained about the swelter the sun they said would melt her and him them all, they said and soon they would run out of sun screen
That morning having survived the night when the Son had finally Come out to fight Rogue Shama poked out her head And saw the coast was clear She pulled on burnt galoshes And refreshed her war paint made of ashes Around her neck she strung her camera the ultimate weapon her brahmastra and grew enough arms to wield the rest Rogue Shama Little, once knew this might be her last stand So she took a moment to imagine her home and say her goodbyes To Father, I say good bye Don’t well up love within when it overflows it hurts you most To Mother, I say good bye Don’t pray too hard or too long instead prepare us to receive His grace To Brother, I say good bye Don’t waste your time on silly poetry how many words can rhyme with pocket, after all perhaps in the next life I’ll know you better And with her remaining limbs she holds onto her mother’s hem And lifts it high above her head and winks at the breeze to lend Her final helping hand sending Rogue Shama around the bend Of clouds until the end of the world Rogue Shama sailed on Parachute Hem resolved to get it done wielding boys’ toys to finally end the tyranny of the Son She flew up high and higher still until her head did touch the sky And face to face with the Son, she said what was on her mind Enough she said Enough I’m tired of you and all you boys thinking that you’re all that When none of it’s true, in fact girls are just as good as boys Maybe even better how would you know you’re just a boy! And they’re definitely stupider than I I would know I’ve spent my life fooling them it didn’t take much boys rarely think girls worth a second look but on the playground or in the classroom I can trump anyone on a good day and most of them on a bad one I call upon you now to fight me to put an end to this squabble Once and for all The Sun did smirk at the almighty quirk of a young’n who would defy him Very few would stare fewer still would dare to meet him eye to eye He burned so bright and hot it was unthinkable to resist it was easier still to bow before his majestic countenance But of course it would seem her challenge was true Even if it would mean her end But it was a laugh and there were too few of those that came His way The Son burned hot hotter hottest And Rogue Shama’s Parachute Hem melted away Gasp! No! This isn’t fair! Rogue Shama Little Shama began to fall Growing Littler and Littler until Littlest would be curtain call Quick witted and nimble she reached for The camera strung around her neck She fumbled to spin the roll into place and realised she had only one left She hoped it would be enough As she tumbled to the ground she framed the Son through her lens Say Cheese she said No Please he said Click! Whirrrrrr and it was done No! screamed the Son the ground below began to boil The camera spat out the spoil-s And Rogue Shama smiled she’d picked the Son out of the sky But the Son thrashed and growled and gashed against its prison and tried to break out But Shama knew what she had to do her work was not done yet she called upon the vacuum the infinite pit within her that her loved ones had left behind the hole that once upon a time they filled merely by existing the hole that threatened to swallow her whole that demanded filling to be satiated she held the picture against her chest and gave it what it wanted The Son collapsed sucked whole into the Black Hole it had a hand in creating The broken heart of a child is a prison not even the greatest tyrant can escape And in the middle of the day high noon, in fact the Son had left the sky It was night now it would be night for all the time of the girl was nigh’ Gasp! Egad! The people wailed What devilry hath befallen But what’s that up above the world so high like a diamond in the sky Twinkle twinkle it falls to earth we must go and catch it What would it be worth? but it fell too soon and with a thud An almighty thud! that shook the world! and could be seen from outer space When finally they reached they saw a sight as yet unseen by humankind A Child grown to the size of the world they seemed to have swallowed the sun did they think it a sweet dangling tantalisingly Lying now on the ground asleep too full it must be it must be When every opportunity at sweet life was taken away from it What else would they reach for what would be left to do but to reassert their claim to the life to the dirt that was stolen The world was shocked into silence All the talking heads went mum the selfies hid themselves The news cycle stopped peddling there was nothing now But a black screen a black feed and the blackest black of night The eternal night Those who had dropped the bombs came forward with anger And tried to pierce the Sun from the belly of the beast but they soon realised that to extract the Sun meant their demise the fires of armageddon would be called forth on earth and this Not even those fire gods could imagine It must be a boy the scholars said look The broken pencil the frayed notebook the blue cloth And the camera strung around its neck These are all historically speaking boys’ toys It makes sense the scholars concurred that this strength be shown By a boy Little Shama Rogue Shama Monument Shama She became a beacon a reminder of the crimes committed on this land The masters who carpeted this place with missiles who once lived in the blindspot of the world now had nowhere to run their crimes had caused this eternal night and they would answer for it for all time They would answer for it because the world cowered in fear now They feared that when the boy who swallowed the sun awoke He would swallow them all as well for good measure Every year they brought gifts and offerings to Monument Shama Who continued to sleep on the land that was and always would be her home They brought gifts hoping that when the Monument awoke It would be glad They brought offerings hoping that when the Monument awoke It would be pleased And then the Sun would rise again But Shama was tired for now and she dreamed sweet dreams Of Mother of Father of Brother Where Mother taught her to make all her favourite sweets Where Father played with her and she bested him at all the games Where Brother finally agreed to share his things with her Little Shama dreamed of the world as it was best And the world would be better for it The world would always be better for it.
Dazzling, brilliant and radiant writing. Your mind is illuminated. This is as stunning as Shama!
Love the story, love this writing style. It's poetic and magical ✨