The Persecuted

Chapter 3

(Memories)

There were three things Adan was good at.

Remembering was one of them.

Most people didn't remembering much from their early childhood, but Adan remembered everything. His first memories were from being in his mothers womb, hearing the mumbled voices from the outside, but most of all the steady heart beat of his mother. It sang him to sleep and was a source of comfort when he was awake. The warmth that surrounded him was so perfect he wished never to let go of it.

It was probably why most people didn't remember any of it. The shock of entering the world was a trauma best forgotten.

It was cold. Gone was the warmth surrounding him, the steady rhythm of his mothers heartbeat. The midwife lifted him up by the lags and swatted his back a couple of times.

Adan cried and kept his eyes shut.

“Good lungs,” said the midwife and took a more gentle hold of him. She set him down on the bed and started working on the umbilical cord. “You have a son.”

“Is he all right?” Adan heard his mothers voice, strained and weakened by the ordeal of giving birth to him. He recognized the voice even though it was different from what he'd hear before. It wasn't muffled.

The midwife finished with the umbilical cord and started to examined Adan more closely. She pried open his eyelid to check his eyes. She jumped back, making the sign to thwart off evil. “God save us,” she muttered and stared at Adan, wide eyed.

“What is it?” his mother asked, panic coming through in her voice.

“His eyes!” the midwife cried out, her voice near panic. “I need to get the priest. The priest.” She scrambled out of the room, leaving Adan and his mother alone.

He stopped crying and opened his eyes to look around the new place. His mothers face appeared over him. He smiled. She looked terrified. He'd never forget that look.

“What have I done?” his mother said to herself. “What have I brought into this world?”

“Is everything all right? The midwife ran out blabbering like..” It was his father. He stepped into the room through the door the escaping woman had left open. He stopped short when he saw the expression on his wife. “What is it?”

“His eyes,” said Adans mother, voice breaking. She looked away.

Another face appeared above him. The look of shock was even more profound than on his mother.

“God help us,” his father muttered and looked away. His shoulders shuddered.

Adan's mind couldn't comprehend it all at the time. It was only later when he dug through the memories that he understood. The parents that had loved him without seeing him had turned their backs on him when they'd seen his eyes. The teaching of the Church were so deeply ingrained that they over rode the parental instincts every living thing had. They didn't even touch him. They didn't dare, out of fear he'd somehow infect them with something.

They huddled together, his father doing his best to reassure his mother she had done nothing wrong. It was not her fault. She feared she had done something to anger the God, to bring the disaster on them. They feared what the other villagers would think of them when word got out. Would they need to move to live a normal life?

The priest rushed in, cheeks red, breathing heavy. His robes were a mess. He'd hurried over. A short moment later the midwife came in as well.

The pudgy face of the priest appeared over Adan. He smiled at him and tried to reach for the pendant than hung around his neck. The gold glittered in the light so enticingly. The priest pulled back, eyes wide.