The small village bustled with a level of excitement that only the oldest villagers had ever seen in their lifetime. There were rituals to perform and food to be made; the water child was coming. Ten years had already passed since the last person of that name had died. He had been old, but still healthy, as most of his nature were. Even in his late sixties, the man, Kai, had been sturdy and full of strength, just as his given name suggested. But there had been an accident. Outsiders had entered the village and Kai, along with many others, had been killed protecting the village.
It was an unheard of disturbance in the cycle, the cycle that for over 1000 years had gifted the village with the presence of the water child. Nobody in the village knew of any story that suggested that any water children had ever been killed, or even died for that matter – they just disappeared when the time came. And everyone always knew when the time had come. There were always two signs. The water child would start to slowly lose their vitality, though never to the point of being sickly. The shine in their eyes would dull and the coolness that surrounded them would gradually fade. That was the first sign. The second sign came later, with an announced pregnancy. The water child knew immediately, the villagers, with the pregnancy – the water child they all knew and loved would be leaving them soon. Preparations would be started and rituals prepared though the why of the tasks had long been forgotten. The moment the new child was born, everyone in the village would immediately know that the previous had gone. They didn’t know where to and the sorrow was short-lived. After all, someone had already come to replace them.
However, when Kai had died, there had been a body and there hadn’t been a new child. The villagers were unable to forget and they mourned deeply. Gradually, the people who knew the customs best and knew the joy the water child brought grew older and they died. The misty air full of rainbows disappeared and became dry. It rained less and the villagers continued to mourn their loss, though it wasn’t for Kai. He had been buried in an unmarked grave and soon most forgot his name. His death had done something to disturb the cycle and it frightened the villagers. No, what was missed was the water that the water child always carried with them. Adults longed for their children to experience the misty and beautiful childhood they themselves had experienced.
Finally, after ten years, on an early February morning, a sign came and then the next day another. The first was this: the first rainbow anyone under ten years of age had ever seen. The second: a pregnancy announced by a youth in the village, still unwed and not yet promised. Those old enough to remember the process commanded preparations begin immediately for the water child. However, many of the rituals required a living water child to perform. A solution was found. While rare, the woman who had birthed Kai still lived. She was now of an advanced age, the oldest woman in the village. She would perform the rituals she had said in a crackly voice. There was only one other villager old enough to remember that she had been the one to give birth to the water child. It was decided. The rituals would go as planned.
Now, as final preparations were being completed, it started to rain, and a scream rang out in the village. The water child was coming. The villagers gathered around the hut that the youth lay in, panting and groaning in pain. She was a youngling still, only 15 years of age. No one in the village was really sure how she had gotten pregnant. None of the men, older or younger admitted to anything and the girl herself had remained silent for the length of the pregnancy. Nobody dared ask. The fear of losing the child was too great. The weather worsened and the sky grew darker. Hours went by and the villagers waited. Dinner passed and the villagers waited. And then, there was one final groan of pain from the young girl and the villagers heard a cry – a baby.
Immediately, the rain eased and the clouds rolled away, showing a bright sky full of starts. The crying had stopped but nobody came out of the hut. The villagers began whispering amongst themselves.
“Wonder what his name is going to be?” a young boy mused.
“I just want to see another rainbow,” another child murmured.
Then the door to the hut opened and the midwife walked out, holding a small bundle in her arms. Everyone fell silent. For many, it was the first time they had ever seen a water child.
“The lass has safely birthed the child, “the midwife began softly. “It was a long labor and I’m sorry to say she didn’t make it through herself.”
Nobody made a sound. Even the girl’s poor mother remained silent. The mother almost never made it and even when she did, had no part in the raising of the water child.
“She did give the child a name though, using her dying breath,” the midwife continued, pulling back the fabric covering the water child’s face. “Her name be Maya.”
“Her? It’s a girl?” the villagers whispered collectively, panic in their voices.
“I thought there were only boys. Maybe this isn’t the child after all,” called another.
“It be rare but possible. My mother birthed the last and gave the knowledge to me. This definitely be the child,” replied the midwife, raising the child for all the villagers to see.
The infant’s eyes were wide open, though birthed only minutes before, and their piercing blue colour glowed in the darkness. This settled the affair among the villagers and they soon left to the food and celebrations. The water child and her dead birth mother were left to the midwife, who quickly returned to the birthing hut. Had there not been a celebration taking place, another villager might have heard the quiet sobs of the midwife from the hut. If anyone had entered, they would have seen her place the child next to the body of her birth mother shakily and seen the vicious burns covering the palms of both her hands. The midwife covered her face with her scalded hands and cried harder, remembering the last words of the poor pale girl beside her.
Indeed the child did have the eyes, there was no mistaking that. Maya was their long-awaited water child with her icy blue eyes. Only instead of being cool to touch, she was as hot a burning fire.
It was an unheard of disturbance in the cycle, the cycle that for over 1000 years had gifted the village with the presence of the water child. Nobody in the village knew of any story that suggested that any water children had ever been killed, or even died for that matter – they just disappeared when the time came. And everyone always knew when the time had come. There were always two signs. The water child would start to slowly lose their vitality, though never to the point of being sickly. The shine in their eyes would dull and the coolness that surrounded them would gradually fade. That was the first sign. The second sign came later, with an announced pregnancy. The water child knew immediately, the villagers, with the pregnancy – the water child they all knew and loved would be leaving them soon. Preparations would be started and rituals prepared though the why of the tasks had long been forgotten. The moment the new child was born, everyone in the village would immediately know that the previous had gone. They didn’t know where to and the sorrow was short-lived. After all, someone had already come to replace them.
However, when Kai had died, there had been a body and there hadn’t been a new child. The villagers were unable to forget and they mourned deeply. Gradually, the people who knew the customs best and knew the joy the water child brought grew older and they died. The misty air full of rainbows disappeared and became dry. It rained less and the villagers continued to mourn their loss, though it wasn’t for Kai. He had been buried in an unmarked grave and soon most forgot his name. His death had done something to disturb the cycle and it frightened the villagers. No, what was missed was the water that the water child always carried with them. Adults longed for their children to experience the misty and beautiful childhood they themselves had experienced.
Finally, after ten years, on an early February morning, a sign came and then the next day another. The first was this: the first rainbow anyone under ten years of age had ever seen. The second: a pregnancy announced by a youth in the village, still unwed and not yet promised. Those old enough to remember the process commanded preparations begin immediately for the water child. However, many of the rituals required a living water child to perform. A solution was found. While rare, the woman who had birthed Kai still lived. She was now of an advanced age, the oldest woman in the village. She would perform the rituals she had said in a crackly voice. There was only one other villager old enough to remember that she had been the one to give birth to the water child. It was decided. The rituals would go as planned.
Now, as final preparations were being completed, it started to rain, and a scream rang out in the village. The water child was coming. The villagers gathered around the hut that the youth lay in, panting and groaning in pain. She was a youngling still, only 15 years of age. No one in the village was really sure how she had gotten pregnant. None of the men, older or younger admitted to anything and the girl herself had remained silent for the length of the pregnancy. Nobody dared ask. The fear of losing the child was too great. The weather worsened and the sky grew darker. Hours went by and the villagers waited. Dinner passed and the villagers waited. And then, there was one final groan of pain from the young girl and the villagers heard a cry – a baby.
Immediately, the rain eased and the clouds rolled away, showing a bright sky full of starts. The crying had stopped but nobody came out of the hut. The villagers began whispering amongst themselves.
“Wonder what his name is going to be?” a young boy mused.
“I just want to see another rainbow,” another child murmured.
Then the door to the hut opened and the midwife walked out, holding a small bundle in her arms. Everyone fell silent. For many, it was the first time they had ever seen a water child.
“The lass has safely birthed the child, “the midwife began softly. “It was a long labor and I’m sorry to say she didn’t make it through herself.”
Nobody made a sound. Even the girl’s poor mother remained silent. The mother almost never made it and even when she did, had no part in the raising of the water child.
“She did give the child a name though, using her dying breath,” the midwife continued, pulling back the fabric covering the water child’s face. “Her name be Maya.”
“Her? It’s a girl?” the villagers whispered collectively, panic in their voices.
“I thought there were only boys. Maybe this isn’t the child after all,” called another.
“It be rare but possible. My mother birthed the last and gave the knowledge to me. This definitely be the child,” replied the midwife, raising the child for all the villagers to see.
The infant’s eyes were wide open, though birthed only minutes before, and their piercing blue colour glowed in the darkness. This settled the affair among the villagers and they soon left to the food and celebrations. The water child and her dead birth mother were left to the midwife, who quickly returned to the birthing hut. Had there not been a celebration taking place, another villager might have heard the quiet sobs of the midwife from the hut. If anyone had entered, they would have seen her place the child next to the body of her birth mother shakily and seen the vicious burns covering the palms of both her hands. The midwife covered her face with her scalded hands and cried harder, remembering the last words of the poor pale girl beside her.
Indeed the child did have the eyes, there was no mistaking that. Maya was their long-awaited water child with her icy blue eyes. Only instead of being cool to touch, she was as hot a burning fire.