Dulce Lacrimae

Thirteen year old Aniela shivered in the cold Secondary school classroom, miserable as always. Aniela had a bit of hope when going into First year, maybe she'll finally meet friends. But alas, life is terrible. Aniela looked at the dull walls, clearly showing that there wasn't even a slight attempt of trying to make the room look less like a prison. There was a hole in the wall, and the drawings got a lot more vulgar because teens found things like fascist symbols and human genitalia to be top tear humour. Aniela personally didn't find it funny, but then again she didn't remember the last time she laughed. She thought back to the past three years, she missed her mother deeply. While she and her father ignored each other as much as possible.

During break time, she had the ritual of sitting alone in a bench outside. She didn't eat, because she rarely felt hungry. She just looked at the sky and waited for the break to be over.

She had no friends still. She tried to talk to people, but they just laughed at her awkwardly or just stared at her. She actually tried to socialise, and tried to be active during class and talked during group projects. But people never wanted to be around her. But she had one friend who cared about her: Albert Federov.

Federov has not changed the past three years. Still looked vague like from the first time they talked. They would walk together around the rural area of Galway, and Aniela even smiled a few times. He never got angry at her. They also investigated that strange book together. The first page lamented over life and death. Federov found it poetic, yet it bore Aniela. Though they've noticed that not all the pages are blank, that the first few pages had things written into them. They both just assumed they stuck together when they first looked at it. But Aniela started to enjoy reading the book. It spoke of different necromantic beliefs over the duration of history. It spoke how in the medieval times it was hated because people believed to resurrect a person, you need to work with God. So necromancer's worked with demons, which was ill doing. The book claimed that this is false, that necromancy is more of a form of active manifestation. You worked to manifest your beliefs. It has nothing to do with demons or what not. Aniela really enjoyed the different tales of necromancers, they were like hero's when raising people's beloved. She wished she could meet one.

That night, Aniela took out the book and started reading through the chapters. She laid on the floor which was littered in papers of drawings and homework. Aniela was getting good grades, evident by the 90% papers lying in the corner of the room. It's like she was making a nest for herself.

Under her bed, was her whole treasury, her notebooks filled with drawings of crows and human bones. Beside them were boxes with clean animal bones. None were killed by Aniela herself, she would never. After reading a bit more about a necromancer called Cador Firth, who courageously saved his beloved wife from dying because her father sold her soul to the devil, she turned around and laid face up to the pale white ceiling. Their house was rented, so she couldn't decorate it as she pleased. When she was younger, her toys would add colour to the room. But she grew out of toys, and now the only thing in her room was her bed, a wardrobe, a little brown nightstand which stuck out like a sore thumb with the rest of the white torture, and Aniela with her makeshift nest.

Aniela looked at the five year old alarm clock on her nightstand. It used to be red but because of the light constantly coming from the window, it started turning pink. It was half past eleven in the night. Perfect. She crawled closer to her bed and took out a little shovel, a box and a rock with neat writing on it. Then she put on her shoes and slowly made her way to the window. She opened it, and threw the shovel and rock out. Then she stepped out into the grass herself while gently holding the box in her hand. Their bungalow had a small garden in the back, and her window faced it. She looked around the garden. It smelt of wet overgrown grass. Her mother always took care of the garden, and they even had bird houses. Her mother loved birds. But now, the houses were broken. Like their family. She grabbed her things quietly and creeped out onto the road. She knew this road well, far from the N17 and its only inhabitants were farms, rare houses and wildlife. Aniela made her way to a small field which was beside a tributary. She was careful, because she learned her lesson when falling into it two years ago. The tiny patch of grass was accidentally walled by presumably the owner. The tributary closed it off into a perfect rectangle.

There was a series of tiny graves inside the tiny field. The thirteen year old crouched down beside an empty space. Then she started her ritual. She dug up a small rectangular hole. Then she opened up her box and there were the clean bones of a bird she found dead on the road. She always cleaned the bones and then studied them. Then she buried them. After putting in the bones and on top the soil, she put the rock at the back of the grave. On it was written "Bird on the road. Died doing what she loved, flying." Satisfied with her handiwork, the girl got up and walked back to the road, up to the N17.

Aniela went to sit in the park. She looked up at the night sky, covered by clouds. She sat at a bench beside a bedside of daffodils, and looked down at the river which at this time of the year was flooding beautifully. "Why, hello dear." A voice greeted her and she jumped up. Federov stood proudly beside her with a gentle posh grin. "Hello, Mr Federov." Aniela gave him a small smile, she wondered how he always walked so quietly. Not once did she catch him walking to her, he always surprised her.

"How's school?" He sat beside her.

"Boring, as usual."

He chuckled, "Ah yes, school can be quite dull at times. But it's important for you to learn, even the most boring things."

"I don't see how knowing the exact dates of the Great Famine events will help me."

"Ah, but at least you are not one of the people dying during the famine. I think knowing the dates is the bare minimum of respect you can give them." Federov's eyes creased into a smile.

"Have you thought what you'd like to do in the future?"

"Well, l'd like to be an artist. But working at the morgue would also be cool. But I don't know which of these two to choose."

"Oh? But sure, you can do both until your art will be so great, working at the mortuary will be pointless."

"What do you work as?"

"Well, nothing really, I'm still learning but I'm bit of a writer if I say so."

"What do you write?"

"My observations on people. On how people interact. It's a topic on which I could write fifty books on and not run out." Aniela just nodded.

There was silence for a while. But for once Aniela was the one to interrupt it.

"Do you know what I really like to be?"

"What is it? I'm all ears."

"I'd like to be a necromancer."

"A necromancer?"

"Yeah, like from the book. I think that would be cool."

"I mean, it's a lovely wish but I doubt it's achievable my dear."

Aniela sighed sadly "I know, but it's nice to wish." But then her face lit up.

"I've just finished a chapter on Cador Firth, he saved his wife from the grips of the devil."

"Oh?" Federov raised his brow. "Tell me more."

"So Cador Firth married a girl from Wales. But then she caught the bubonic plague, as it were the times of the Black Death. Cador Firth was upset and didn't want her to die, so started to search of ways to save her. Then he met an old priest who gave him a vellum book, a lot like my own. Cador Firth tried to manifest a protection of his wife's soul with a ritual, but then he realised her soul isn't hers. So he went back to the priest, who told him that her soul must've been sold to the devil. So Cador Firth went on a journey to find out why. The book kind off just jumps to the conclusion, that Firth finds out who sold her soul, which was her father because he was in debt. Angered, Firth sacrificed him in a ritual and saved his wife!" Aniela beamed.

Federov scanned her face. "So he killed her father?"

"Yeah, but he did deserve it, didn't he?"

"Aniela." Federov scowled. "Murder is never the option. It's lovely that Mr Cador Firth saved his wife, but there must've been better ways to deal with this situation."

"I suppose.." Aniela looked down unhappily, a bit ashamed of herself.

Federov patted her shoulder. "Anyway, I think it's time for you to go home, don't you think?"

"Right. Goodnight Mr Federov." Aniela got up to walk away through the park.

"Goodnight, Aniela." Replied Federov, and looked on while she left him on his lonesome.