Faith of Pyrus Communis

Julius stared out of the window across the expanse of a seemingly never-ending green forest. In the background there was no noise other than the sound of his breathing; even that was faint.

His hand reached up to touch his neck where a chain rested. At the end of it was a weight hooked on it in the shape of a curvaceous golden pear. Many people had asked him why he had it, but he never answered them; it wasn’t their business.

Plus, they wouldn’t understand.

How could they possibly conceive the idea of a mere chain being more than just? It was inconceivable.

On the thirty-first day of the first month of autumn, he who holds the symbol of pyrus communis will be given his first gift. If he accepts or rejects will change his season.

His mother, on the day before he was borne, was approached by a strange man who uttered strange words to her. She thought him odd and quickly walked away, but his words stayed with her still. She told her husband about the encounter and he waved it away as someone wanting attention. The man had likely told the same thing to other people.

And, so, she put the man and his words in the back of her mind—until Julius turned seven.

It was on September 31st, his birthday, that he received his chain and to this day he didn’t know who had sent it. There was no name or any contact information on the tiny box it was in. Not one attendee could recall seeing anyone peculiar hanging around nor did anyone confess to bringing it. The latter could be summed up as being embarrassed about the gift, but the former was a frightening thought. He recalled his parents being on edge for the rest of the party and keeping an eye on everyone. He was also told not to stray far from their sight.

Being as young as he was, he didn’t think much of it at the time.

It was later on that night that he had a nightmare and, despite being seven and more aware of how embarrassing it was, he went to his parent’s bedroom to seek their comfort. When he got near enough, he saw that the light was on under the door. He figured one or both of them were up, which worked better for him, and was about to go inside when he heard the sound of his mother’s voice.

“I’m telling you, Leo, that we should try and find that man,” she said pressingly. “Again, what are the odds that on Julius’ birthday, the thirty-first day of the first month of autumn, he would be gifted a chain with a pear, a pyrus, pendant?”

“I told you that I agree it’s strange,” Leo replied, sounding tired. “I also said that it’s unlikely we’ll find that man after all these years. We’d have to have a specific item he’s attached to in order to track him using magic and there’s no guarantee he’s even alive. Then there’s the fact that he might not remember us or his words. Prophets, assuming he is one, often don’t.” Julius heard the sound of the bed moving. “I’m sure everything will work out, Reina.”

Julius heard a sound like someone was sighing. “Do we give him the chain?” his mother questioned. “Either way, it’s been gifted to him, right? Does he have to wear it or…?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Well, we were told that whether he accepts or rejects it will change his season,” his father said thoughtfully. “That could work whether he wears it or not, I suppose, but it is something wearable. I’m still wondering what ‘his season’ is meant to mean other than his life. How is his life going to change? I don’t want it to be for the worse.”

“I don’t think we can make that choice for him, dear,” his mother said solemnly. “We can tell him what to choose, but it wouldn’t be his decision.”

“I know, I know…” his father sounded sad now, too. “We can talk to him tomorrow. It’s best to get it done sooner than later.”

Julius heard a sound from his mother, he figured, and then there was silence. He stood outside the door for a long moment, wondering about their words and whether to go inside or not. His nightmare was no longer on his mind, but he had another idea.

Knocking on the door, he called out to his parents, “Mom? Dad?”

There was another sound of the bed moving and shortly the door was opened to reveal his mother. She frowned down at him, her brows furrowed in confusion, and her face scrunched up in concern. “Julius, why are you out of bed?” she asked. Behind her, his dad was looking on with the same confused and concerned expression.

“I had a bad nightmare,” Julius told her, trying his best to sound bothered. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight? I promise to be good.”

“Oh, sweetie, of course you can.”

His father gestured for him to sit next to him. “Come on, kid,” he said. Julius allowed himself a small smile and hurriedly got onto the bed beside him. When he reached his destination, he leaned his head against his dad’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He missed the surprised look between his parents and how their concern only grew.

Obviously, he wasn’t the cuddly type.

Rather than ask him about his nightmare, his parents allowed him the moment of reprieve. His mother got back in the bed and began to rub his back in soothing motions.

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

He missed the small smiles that his parents shared.