The Moonshaped Sorrow (Open Novella Contest 2020)

Chapter One: The Sorrows

It was common knowledge that everyone in Emagora was born with exactly one magical Blessing, and among the townsfolk of the tiny island of Araofin, it was just as common knowledge that Coriander RosOrion's gift was utterly useless. He didn't mind.

Unlike most others, whose Blessing would surface at some point as they grew up, Cori didn't remember a time before he saw the visual manifestation of people's sorrows floating in a cloud behind their head. Over time, he'd learned the nuances of what these visions meant: the larger the cloud, the bigger the sorrow weighed on the person at this particular moment. But the darker the cloud, the heavier it weighed on their soul at all times.

As far as Blessings went, it was a quiet one. No one would know that this was what Cori's Blessing was, if he didn't live on an island in the smallest city of Emagora, where everyone knew everyone's Blessings.

But Cori could never forget. It was rare for him to come across anyone without any form of sorrow hanging near them. Even those that in all other means appeared happy carried around some cloud or other.

The sorrows proved distracting. When faced with someone who carried a deep sorrow, wondering what the sorrow was and how Cori could possibly help ease it was all he could think about. When interacting with someone seemingly happy but still bearing a small sorrow, Cori could only ponder what their sorrow could possibly be.

The never ending distraction might have been why Cori grew up with a preference for plants over people, and with his closest friend being his mother. At least he knew the source of the cloud she carried, and as for the plants, they were the only living creatures he never feared seeing the sorrow from.

The older he got, the more he chose to spend his free time with his flowers. His mother lamented it one fine day in late spring.

"Cori, do you ever think you spend too much time here?"

At the time, he'd been engaged in a gentle tugging battle with a clump of weeds that had taken root underneath a patch of violets. Not all weeds had to be disposed of-they were just plants after all, unexpected visitors to his haven- but these weeds could interfere with the growth of his violets, so they had to go. He paused and glanced up at his mother.

"Do you think I do?" he asked, knowing very well she did.

She sighed and scratched at her head, right above where a blot of something-oil or grease, or maybe just dirt-was smeared on her forehead. "Cori, when was the last time you left the house?"

He smiled, and resumed his tugging of the weed. "I'm out of the house right now."

She let out a humph, and Cori didn't have to look at his mother to know that she was crossing her arms. "Coriander, you know what I meant. Out of the house, and out of your garden."

The weed came loose, roots and all, and Coriander tossed it to the side. "It's all right Mother," he said, patting the soil around the violets back into place. "I'm happy here."

"Yes," she said, "but I'd be happier if you were happy with someone with you."

His hands paused, and he looked up at her. Her hair, once brown but not cloying with gray, is held in two messy buns that pop off the sides of her head. Between that and the large circular goggles resting atop her rounded forehead, she looked rather like an owl. Her mouth curved unhappily as she gazed down at him, something she could only do when he was kneeling on the ground.

"Mother," he asked, "what brought this on? You've finished one of your clocks, haven't you? You're always fretful just after you finish."

She averted her gaze from his. "That's not the point. I just don't want you to be stuck here with an old woman for your whole life."