Sid Red Rim

Sid Red Rim by Haley Kate.

First three chapters

Chapter 1

It all began long ago when dragons were pests and witches had the upper hand. When Kings and Queens beheaded each other for loot and Vikings sailed upon the raging seas. On a cold winters day was born a child. With snow covering the rooftops and wood burning fires smoking out the chimneys, the little town of Eldor would never be the same again.

The new mother had carried him just less than full term and his birth was straightforward but for one thing. When the midwife delivered the boy, there was no cry or squirm of surprise. Sid, as he was so called, was sleeping as peaceful as the night. And so he slept every night and for at least six hours a day and when he wasn’t sleeping, he was smiling or laughing or happily lying still in his cot. For a type two woman, as was his mother, this was a very unusual gift.

There are three types of women. Type 1 believes that they are worthless, sent to earth as prisoners for women of a higher Type than they. They marry a domineering man who expects too much in return for too little. Usually appearing haggard and older than their years, they use a smile that is well practised. Type 2 women are the opposite. They believe that they are Queens and Princesses and have an awful lot of use for the Type 1 woman. Typically, they enjoy delegating the hardier tasks to others who they believe to be less important than they are (which is everyone) and are expert manipulators of the truth. Indeed, they are self-focused, irresponsible and completely selfish. Lastly, Type 3 women are a perfect balance. They recognise their self-worth and yet are humble enough to admit that this worth is no more and no less than anybody else. They are happy with whatever life has to throw at them and are the peacemakers of society. Unfortunately, there are not many Type 3 women.

Sid’s mother, Elsbeth was very much a Type 2 sort of woman.

To every ear that would hear it, she described her new baby, Sid as perfect and at the same time reinforced that she too was in fact, perfect. But it troubled her somewhat that others did not share the same opinion. Though they never voiced their concerns, she could see it in the creases of their faces. A sleepy child would not be a clever one, nor would it grow big and strong for it slept too much and ate too little. It was weak and it was lazy. She read it in their minds. But like I said, this was a time of witches and magic and other unworldly things that are not so common today. And unfortunately for Sid, Elsbeth knew just where to find one.

Mrs Crow was a little mad. Obsessed with herbs and various teas for finding the cures of all ailments, she was bleary eyed and exhausted on her good days. Elsbeth came across her on a bad one. Carried in a make shift sling, Sid slept blissfully unaware of what curse was about to befall him. His mother, slim and beautiful with skin that glowed with bagless eyes strolled through the market place on a Thursday afternoon. She held her nose high up to the sky, aware that many gazes followed her and believed wholeheartedly that her baby was the best baby in the whole wide world.

A bell tinkled above the door of the stone cottage that housed the old alchemist. Mrs Crow looked up from her cauldron and peered at Elsbeth and her sleeping baby. A smile found its way to her tired eyes and she nodded a greeting.

“Fetch me a potion that will make my baby a little less sleepy. I worry that he does not wake enough,” Elsbeth demanded without any hint of charm.

Mrs Crow hid a scowl behind a thick cluster of wrinkles. She stood awkwardly, stricken with years and hard memories.

“He seems happy enough to me,” Mrs Crow smirked

Elsbeth shrugged. “He is too sleepy. Too lazy for a child of mine.”

Mrs Crow threw a few herbs into her cauldron and it fizzled and smoked a green flume of smoke. “You do not appreciate him enough. He sleeps well because he is content. But I can see you are a woman who is not easily persuaded.” Whispering a few words to her hand, she sprinkled an invisible dust over the cauldron. With a crackle and a fizz, she scooped some of the bubbling liquid from her cauldron and placed it into a bottle. “It’s quite cool,” she assured Elsbeth. “Feed him this.”

“What will it do?” Elsbeth asked, fearful all of a sudden that the decision to wake her sleeping baby might not in fact be a good one.

“Exactly what you asked,” said Mrs Crow with a wink.

Elsbeth waited not a minute longer and woke Sid with a gentle nudge. Pouring the green liquid into his mouth, Elsbeth watched him swallow and as he did, rain fell down from the heavens bringing with it a bolt of lightning. And just like that, Sid opened his eyes wide, never to sleep again.

Chapter 2

The village of Tweed was not really a village at all. It is what those who inhabited it called it when they were asked and nothing more. There was no church or hall or library full of books. There wasn’t even a bench to sit on. Small thatched roofs and wooden sheds dotted about sporadically were the only homes nestled deep inside the wooded area which they called Tweed. A river running through it served as a bath and as drinking water and occasionally a toilet. Shared by fifty six men, women and children, Tweed was a village of outcasts. In a time where sympathies were sparse and suspicions were high, some of the outcasts were maimed with disability, others with disfigurement and some sensed the paranormal, which others thought was witchcraft.

It was an odd sort of village, hidden from society and forgotten by all else, but the inhabitants were happy because they were free from judgemental eyes that convicted them purely on what they saw. Used to hearing tales of deeply unsettling phenomena’s those who resided in the village of Twees had learnt not to fear things that couldn’t be understood. One might think that the discovery of a boy who never slept would not be such a cause for concern. But they’d be wrong.

Sid Red Rim floated downstream in a makeshift basket weaved out of wicker. The same river where a dwarf named Mindy was taking a bath. Caught in the reeds, his little basket drifted in and out of the gentle currents rocking him back and forth, but not even the soothing motion of this could have made him sleep. He cried loudly and often until finally Mindy found him.

What would have been knee deep water was more accurately neck deep for Mindy but she reached him and when she did, she was greeted by two bulging eyes, both heavily red rimmed with fatigue. The alarming sight made her smile. She knew immediately that he had been sent to the right place. A knitted blanket was all that covered the boy and on it was embroidered the name Sid.

“Sid Red Rim,” Mindy said out loud. “You’ll fit in nicely here in Tweed.”

Mindy brought Sid home to her humble cottage that resembled a rabbits warren. A roof of leafs that frequently blew away or died was currently a brownish yellow tinge and she sighed knowing all too well that the responsibility of keeping the roof over their heads would certainly increase now that there was a baby to take care of. But despite the roof, inside was pleasantly warm. There were no windows so light came purely from the candles flickering in the lanterns. Tunnels dug out of the muddy earth wound around the cottage several times, leading to the various rooms she and her husband had created.

“Mo!” Mindy shouted. “Mo, I have something to show you!”

There was a great crashing of steel as Mo cracked his head on the hanging utensils which were low down so that Mindy could reach them.

“Grendals beard!” he cursed, rubbing his temple.

“Grendal doesn’t have a beard, darling,” Mindy said kindly.

“Just an expression, dear.” He walked slowly over to where Mindy was rocking back and forth, his tall frame clearly a nuisance to the low ceilings. Towering over her, he smiled at the little boy almost too big for her to hold already.

“You’ll have to watch your language from now on,” she informed Mo.

Mo put a giant hand on her shoulder covering half of her arm in doing so. “Mindy, he’s perfectly sweet and odd enough to fit in here, but you can’t possibly think about keeping him! If anyone came looking for him, they’d find our village and we’d be ridiculed just like we were in their villages. The less people who know of this place, the better. That baby could ruin it all for us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mo. People don’t put babies in rivers if they intend to come looking for them. I’m keeping him and that’s final!”

Mo’s face turned scarlet. “Blasted woman! I say he goes and that is that! You can’t keep him because I say so and this is my home as well as yours. Do you hear me?”

But Mindy didn’t hear him, or at least she pretended not to. Sid Red Rim had started laughing at Mo’s temper tantrum and Mindy could tell they were going to get on very well.

Mo sat down on one of the short backed chairs that had obviously been made for shorter limbs than his. Voices started nattering the moment he closed his eyes.

“There’s no point getting worked up about it. She’s going to keep him.”

“Yes and I say good for her. That child is gifted, I can tell,” came a voice.

“I’ll bet those red rimmed eyes can see us.”

“Yes, he’ll be far better company than grumpy Mo once he learns how to talk!”

Mo slammed his hand down on the table. “That’s enough. We’ve enough unwanted guests in this house without the addition of a baby.” He listened for a moment to make sure his words had been adhered to.

“You listen to those ghosts more than you listen to me!” Mindy scowled.

“I cant help it!” Mo hissed. “They’re in my head, constantly!”

“Did you see his eyes?” said one of the voices.

“How could I not? They looked as though they hadn’t slept since birth! Poor fella must have been through a lot. I bet he’ll sleep plenty now.”

The voices faded as the ghosts wandered through the walls into rooms where no ears could hear them. But Mo stayed where he was, sitting uncomfortably in his chair. He had senses that others did not and he sensed right away that the problem with Sid Red Rim was not that he hadn’t slept. It was that he couldn’t sleep and neither would he, not for a very long time.

Chapter 3

It was precisely twelve years later that the Bells rang in the meetinghouse of Tweed. Twelve years that had been long and arduous for Sid. Having twice as many hours of wake than everybody else, Sid’s mental capacity increased rapidly. He was able to speak in full sentences by the age of one, catch rabbits in a snare at two and take honey from a bee hive at three. By five he had mastered the art of fishing with a spear. But the side-effects were drastic. Catatonically rocking himself back and forth at times, his body longed for sleep. Any other being would never have survived and Sid often considered that the only reason he could see ghosts was because he was almost one himself. It aged him drastically. He was just twelve years old, though he looked middle aged with skin as thin as a peach and eyes as red as blood. Bags settled beneath bulging eyes and Sid Red Rim was miserable.

Sitting inside the rickety old meetinghouse, he wondered what meaningless worries had summoned them all here. Gustaf had taken it upon himself to be the spokesperson for the village of Tweed. He was hugely unpopular and unlike most people who lived in Tweed, there was no physical disability or disfigurement that forced him into this solitude. Gustaf was simply ugly. When the bells rang, it was usually because he rang them and Gustaf was hugely offended if people didn’t respond to his call hence why the mud hut was filled to the brim within five minutes.

In a booming voice, he said, “It has come to my knowledge that six normal beings came within our borders just last night.” There was hushed silence as Gustaf continued. “I was informed that they were frightened off by somebody. Come forward please. Be brave and accept the blame.” He waited.

Tish stood up, a boy of similar age to Sid though he looked a lot closer to twelve than Sid did. His skull was deformed which made his eyes lopsided and his jaw receded at an odd angle. When he smiled, it looked as though he was frowning, but for the laughter escaping his lips. And when Tish laughed, the entire village laughed with him.

“Okay, I admit it was me! There were six people and yet when I jumped out in front of their path and started wailing like a banshee, they couldn’t run fast enough to get out! Oh man, I wish you could all have seen it!”

The sound of applause infuriated Gustaf who started ringing the bells again. “This behaviour should not be encouraged! When normal beings come into our land, we should hide so that they never see us. If we are discovered, we will be privy to ridicule once more. Do you want that?”

A few heads nodded but mostly, people found it easier to agree with Gustaf. He had a habbit of avenging anyone who didn’t.

Sid Red Rim had seen Tish’s handiwork. It had provided him with a short spout of entertainment in his otherwise uneventful night, wondering the woods alone.

“This is serious business,” Gustaf went on. “We all know what happened to the storytellers.”

The hustle quietened down once more. A few of the people there hung their heads.

“Murdered by normal beings because they had a gift. They told the greatest bedtime stories in the world, stories that no other could match. Outcast by men because they could open up a world of imagination. Does that sound fair to you? Do you want that to happen to us? Mo, you hear ghosts!” he said pointing at Mo’s chest. “Murdered.” Mo gulped loudly. “Wren, you can smell like a dog. Murdered. Mindy, you are the shortest woman I have ever seen. Murdered. And Sid Red Rim. Well, who’s ever heard of a boy that doesn’t sleep, ever! Definitely murdered.”

He went on for another ten minutes, pointing out the villagers quirky and unusual characteristics. He missed out his own entirely. But when it was over, Sid Red Rim slowly walked home, day dreaming about the legendary brothers who could tell stories like no other. It was a cold, crispy day and as sometimes did happen with Sid, his feet walked him far from where he had intended to go. Not unlike sleepwalking, but without the sleep, he wondered off, dazed by fatigue until a whimper stirred his thoughts. He listened hard, ignoring the river close by that had once carried him in a basket to Tweed. Narrowing his eyes into a dark cave, he could see surprisingly well having grown accustomed to seeing in the dark over the many years. He wondered in curiously. The earth was damp and the air stale. He thought that it must be a ghost crying when he heard it, for people usually steered clear of caves in these parts. They were often inhabited by wild creatures, big enough to prey on humans. But not this one.

“Hello?” he called at the mouth of the cave and the whimpering stopped immediately.

“Who’s there?” came a timid voice.

Sid searched the darkness until his eyes rested at the corner of the cave where it was at its darkest. With virtually no light at all, he could only make out the outline of a little girl, probably no older than he. She was huddled over a rucksack.

“I’m Sid,” said Sid. “Are you dead?”

The little girl laughed. “Dead? What an odd question. I don’t think I’m dead. But I am quite lost.” She came forward timidly and as she did, Sid automatically kept himself to the shadows.

“I thought you might have been a ghost,” Sid told her.

She walked into the light and Sid saw that she was wearing a hat with binoculars tied around her neck, shorts despite the cold weather and a fleecy jumper.

“Can you help me?” she asked him. It surprised him when she didn’t flinch at the sight of him but he supposed he didn’t look that abnormal. He only felt it.

“You look normal,” he told her.

“Thank you,” she answered, narrowing her eyes at him. “So, can you help me?”

Sid shrugged. “I guess so. Where do you want to be?”

“I’m on a camping trip with my dad. We’re looking for the ruins of Eldor.”

“Why?” Sid asked.

“We’re treasure hunters.”

Sid regarded her for a moment. “I’ve never heard of the ruins of Eldor. What do they look like?”

“Well, it’s an old building made of stone. It was a theatre once and it belonged to two brothers. Two brothers who were very wealthy and died with their fortune.”

Sid shrugged again. “I’ve never seen a theatre out here.

The girl looked disappointed. “It wouldn’t be much now, it’s very old, but people used to travel from far to see it. It was supposed to be magic!”

“I hate magic!” Sid muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “Come on, I can help you find your dad.”

The little girl followed behind him.

“I’m Cara,” she told him.

“Sid,” said Sid.

“It’s a good thing you found me. I’ve been lost for hours. Where did you come from by the way?”

“I live in the woods,” he told her. “This way.”

“How do you know?”

“I can hear him,” he told her. “I hear lot of things that others don’t.”

“Like a super sense?”

“No. Just a lot of time practising. I don’t sleep, you see. Gives me a lot of extra time,” he explained.

“Like an insomniac. My cousin gets it sometimes. Is that why your eyes are so red?”

Sid nodded and then stopped walking. “Your dad is just beyond that Rowan tree. Give him a minute though. He’s relieving himself!”

“Oh!” Cara laughed. “Thank you Sid. Do you want to have dinner with us?”

Sid shook his head. “I don't care much for food," he said noticing the look of disbelief in her eyes. "Good luck finding the old theatre,” he said and then before she could ask him any more questions, he hurried across the bridge and headed for home.