Inner Demons (2023)
Violet blinked, once, then twice. She opened her eyes to find a meadow stretching into the horizon and her back leaning against something hard. With a gasp, she glanced down only to find herself in the body she would inhabit every night.
BY USHNA SHAEIRAH
IMAGE BY EBRU KUR
“Repent for our sins, Violet. Ask the lord to absolve us of the plight we have caused.”
Violet nearly didn’t catch her mother’s reminder as she wordlessly trailed behind the older, scrawny woman. Her gaze was focused on the broken cobblestone. They were on their way to the infirmary in the town square. It was a long walk. Coins were scarce, so a carriage ride was a luxury they couldn’t afford.
The war was over, marking the end of The Reaper Years—half a century plunged in bloodshed, destruction, and chaos. The men who survived had returned, though Violet believed the ones who died were lucky. Her father was lucky. The soldiers who came back were ghosts walking among the living. A ghastly hollowness reflected in their sunken eyes. It was the same fear that shrouded her mother; the same fear that pervaded her prayers, always spoken in a crazed rush of sibilant whispers. Even now, she was praying.
Violet hated it.
For as long as she could remember, she was told to repent for the sins of her people. From birth, her world was filled with nothing but sorrow and destitution. Sometimes, she felt as though feeling happiness was a crime, a sin. Despite the high consuls’ promise of peace, things were still precarious.
The humdrum in the streets wasn’t something Violet looked forward to encountering on their trips to the town square. The air was always heavy with loss. She could smell it in the smoke climbing skyward from the pile of burning bodies. She could see it in the ruby-turned eyes of the widows lining up for their daily rations. She could hear it in the cries of the infants who would soon die of the illness or starvation. The war was over; their suffering wasn’t.
“Don’t breathe in the smoke.”
“Yes, mother.”
Tugging her scarf up to her nose, Violet sidestepped the scattered piles of stool and tar. It reeked of sewage that made her stomach lurch. Luckily, there wasn’t much breakfast inside for her to worry about soiling her woolen scarf or homespun skirt. As they approached the door to the infirmary, her mother suddenly stopped short and whirled to face her with darkening eyes.
“I pray you be shown mercy, despite our sins. If the nurses tell me you have indeed caught a variant of the illness, you may die, Violet. You know we cannot afford medicine, right?”
“Mother…”
There was a pause. It was tense. Within that breath of a moment, the two made a wordless exchange. Her mother’s eyes roved over her figure and finally yielded, softening her gaze.
“I know,” Violet whispered, aware of the odd patches of dry skin decorating her body. These unsightly spots lacked color and blood flow. A constant foulness nested in the back of her tongue. Every morning, she awoke with the feeling that something had decayed within her mouth. At first, her symptoms were not as prevalent. However, she’d noticed that her body had progressively grown weaker and parts of her skin had lost its warmth.
With a deep breath, her mother nodded, another set of prayers leaving her mouth as they entered the infirmary. In all honesty, Violet didn't want to be there. She longed for nightfall so she could return to where she desired to be.
Caspian. The name echoed in her thoughts. The exiled prince of Luceras had somehow burrowed his way into her heart. She could see his mercury eyes and that mop of ebony hair as she blinked.
It was cruel that he didn’t exist in her world.
She’d kept him as a secret since early autumn–when she’d discovered her peculiar ability to travel to a far-off kingdom whilst asleep. She didn’t know the specifics of this kind of travel herself. All she knew was that one night when she’d grown tired of repenting for sins she had no hand in committing, her tongue felt dry. She’d clenched her eyes shut—a dark crease nesting between her brows as she laid on a cotton sheet too thin to keep the cold of the hard ground from seeping into her bones. She’d fallen asleep—willing herself to find escapism—and had somehow opened her eyes to find herself in the kingdom of Luceras, inhabiting a body that wasn’t hers; a painful reminder that she didn’t belong there. She was “a piece that didn’t fit,” as Caspian had quipped on their first encounter.
It was like living a double life.
In due time, Violet had quickly learned that Luceras was far better than her world.
When asleep, she’d spend days there, yet would always awake with a ragged gasp before dawn. At first, it was jarring. Her heart would race and her lungs would take a long pull of air, as if they’d been barren and still just moments before. Being propelled back into her world always left her feeling off-balance, especially, since the night hardly ever showed signs of passing. She would always be greeted by a sky so dark and sable. Eventually, Violet realized that time passed faster in the kingdom. She figured a little over a minute in her world must have been days in Luceras. It explained the awful aches in her bones and the bitterness on her tongue when she would decide to wake up and return to her life.
The people of Luceras—oh, how she loved them—were merry and kind. They didn’t obsess over repentance. They didn’t frown upon joy. They decorated their quaint houses made of lustrous stone with lush ivy vines and flowers of every color—something Violet seldom witnessed in her small town. They lit a large bonfire in the beginning hours of twilight. Women and men danced around the vermilion flames and sang songs of monsters and knights. Meanwhile, the children squealed and ran in the dirt barefoot, chasing each other in jest. Their laughter was contagious and gentle on the ears. Violet found it easy to get lost in it all.
Despite being an outsider, the people of Luceras had welcomed her with warm cider and kind eyes. In return, Violet lent a helping hand wherever she could. When she wasn’t occupied with the exiled prince and his escapades, she would search for people in need of her assistance. And, when the time came for her to lean on their trust and aid, they had followed her as she and Caspian led the rebellion to overthrow his conspiring father.
Her heart kicked upon recalling the way Caspian’s hands had so delicately taken hers as they had seized the castle the night before. They had come so far since.
Violet had debated whether or not to tell the prince that she wasn’t from a distant land, but another world entirely; that she didn’t look like the body she inhabited. After everything they’d been through, she felt as though she could risk telling him the whole truth. Her little white lie of being a runaway from an outlying kingdom wouldn’t last forever. She often wondered how he’d take the news. Would he ask if her hair was cedar brown or something entirely different, if her eyes were truly blue? Beauty was not her strong suit as her mother had told her time and time again. Unlike the body in Luceras, her true body had fiery red hair and shared the same shade of eyes as Caspian—mercury gray.
If he were to see her true self now, he would be repulsed. Her skin was paler and lacked life in places. Her hair was gradually falling away, growing brittle and thin. She looked nothing like she did in early autumn when she first set foot in Luceras.
Her symptoms didn’t quite match the widespread illness. She didn’t have a fever. Her eyes weren’t yellow. Yet, her body was coming undone. That was why she was here, in the infirmary with her mother. No one could explain what was wrong with her.
Violet didn’t feel a thing as the nurses poked and prodded her skin, nor did she hear them when they instructed her to strip off her clothes and pull over a large, cotton gown. Her mind was stuck in Luceras, longing to return to the kingdom and the prince. If only dusk would arrive sooner. If only she weren’t stuck here.
Violet blinked, once, then twice. She opened her eyes to find a meadow stretching into the horizon and her back leaning against something hard. With a gasp, she glanced down only to find herself in the body she would inhabit every night. Her hands flew to her face. Her fingers dug into her cheeks to make sure that she could feel this. That this was truly happening.
Somehow, she was in Luceras, sitting against the Elder Oak that stood just outside the kingdom. It was the spot where she would awake every time she returned to the realm.
Violet sighed. She must have nodded off. Now that she was here, she could easily idle away for hours. She’d only be gone for a few seconds in her world. No one would notice. No one would even care. Her mother, however…
Perhaps, I should wake up, Violet thought. The nurses need to examine my symptoms anyway.
Her musings were cut short once her eyes registered a familiar head of dark hair emerging in the distance. Her heart thundered.
“Caspian,” she breathed.
Violet shot up, bracing a hand against the tree to regain balance.
“Caspian! Over here!”
His eyes looked dark from afar but she knew he had spotted her as soon as he met her gaze. Electricity prickled down her arms. Her breathing quickened and the smile that split her lips reached her eyes. Violet found herself running as fast as she could towards him. The nurses could wait—he was right there.
“Is that a Violet flower I see?” Caspian hollered back, a hearty laugh decorating his words.
Violet laughed right along. Her legs burned as she ran to close the distance between them. He was at arms’ length. Her hands were reaching for his—ready and yearning—when the electricity returned. Only this time, it was far more concentrated and unfurled in her chest. It caused her to buck.
With a start, Violet shut her eyes and felt something heavy set upon her chest. When she gasped for air, it tasted bitter. Her eyes shot open and she felt dazed. The sight of two nurses crouching over her body filled her vision.
She was on the ground. Her bones ached. Her mother was wailing. She was back.
Confused, Violet tried to sit up. A firm hand kept her pinned against the ground. She must have made a face because the nurse spoke in a rush. “Stay still.”
Violet frowned. “Why? I was only asleep!”
This time, it was her mother who spoke. Her eyes were brimming, her face wet, and nose a bright scarlet.
“Asleep?!” she spat, bitter and anguished. “You dropped dead, Violet. Dead.”
Ushna Shaeirah is an Early Childhood Studies major who enjoys reading and writing creative fiction in her spare time. She is set to graduate in the spring of this year and will attend graduate school to continue her academic studies.
Image: Inner Demons (Ebru Kur, 2023)
Edited for publication by Elle Addae, as part of the Bachelor of Creative and Professional Writing program.
HLR Spotlight is a collaboration between the Faculty of Media & Creative Arts and the Faculty of Liberal Arts & Sciences and Innovative Learning at Humber College in Toronto, Ontario. This project is funded by Humber’s Office of Research & Innovation.