In the Shade
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Genesis
- 1 -
In the beginning she was a single parent. Her husband had died before the birth of their children – before they had formed into the creatures they were to become. She had hoped they would be the image of him. And they were – except one.
She was glad, not that her husband had died of course, but she had a sense of relief that he did not meet his seventh son.
Because his seventh son was deformed. He did not conform to anything normal. She was isolated and scared. She did not know how to care for the last of her offspring. She was alone with him, and alone with her thoughts.
A Mother can admonish herself. A Mother can look inward, especially when she knows that everyone will judge her son on his outward appearance.
She knew it was wrong. First impressions should not matter. Her first impression was that he was repulsive. She wanted to get rid of him – to avoid the shame.
However, nature is what it is intended to be. And so, a Mother’s fear became outweighed by a Mother’s love. Initially she found it hard to look at him.
Then she fell in love.
She fell in love with her own son. She could not abandon him. No matter what he looked like, no matter that he was different to everyone else, no matter that he was deformed.
Perfection is difficult to acquire.
At the moment of realisation, she recognised that she was alone – alone with him, with her son, the seventh son. Just as his father had been.
He was the seventh son of a seventh son. In folklore this should mean he would be a lucky one, a chosen one. She did not think that he was lucky. It is not lucky to be deformed, to be imperfect.
So, at the moment she was alone – alone with him. That was not the problem. The problem would be when she had to show her son to others. To outsiders.
Envisaging a life of torment and derision for him. She would take her time, her time alone with him before the onset of comments – before the barbs – cutting comments and cutting barbs that would be inflicted into his skin.
It was a crown he would have to bear.
But, for now, it was just the two of them. He was where she could keep him safe.
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Mother and Son.
What was natural.
He was not natural.
He was her son.
He was her deformed son.
She called him Septimius.
The seventh son of a seventh son.
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Septimius was born with seven legs.
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Exodus
- 2 -
She knew the day would come. They had been together in their solitude. One day the outside world would have to be faced.
It was this day.
The day had come.
Their own world was a world which she had created. It was a shell to protect him. But shells crack and children need to escape. They need to stretch their limbs, to reach out, to walk tall. Septimius could not foresee what the outside world would mean to him. He was just an inquisitive child, he wanted to explore his environs. His Mother wanted to keep him safe forever, for him never to be seen.
She was ashamed. Maybe she had done something wrong in God’s eyes to deserve this punishment. She did not understand God. It was a mystery.
Septimius wanted to see the outside world, he wanted to be seen. He did not know that he was different. Septimius was just himself, it was all he knew. Ignorance is bliss. He did not understand difference, deformity. He did not know that it would define him.
How do you take a first step? Best foot forward. Which foot would he use? He had seven to choose from.
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Some glanced furtively, some openly stared. Septimius watched his Mother wince. He did not understand. It was his contemporaries who were the catalysts when realisation dawned. Children do not hold back – they say what they see. All children want to be individual but all children want to be uniform more. They do not want to stand out.
Septimius stood out.
But he did not stand outside for long.
He wanted to retreat back into the safety of the world his Mother had created for him – to go back into his shell.
Septimius did not know whether he would ever have the strength to leave again – to leave their own world; their solitude together.
The world that was warm beneath the storm.
He didn’t have a leg to stand on.
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Judges
- 3 -
It was inevitable that they would come. They could not stay in isolation forever. Together in their solitude. But no-one, no family is an island and so it was inevitable that they would come.
Rumours, as they always do, had got around. The child had been seen. The different child; the deformed child.
Even their knock seemed judgemental. A harsh rap. They say society looks after their own but would they look after their weakest? The only strength she felt was the love she had for her son and she was determined that her love would defend him against the visitors.
They may be older and they may be wiser, but they did not know Septimius like she did. She knew him from conception. She knew him at birth.
They may be older and they may be wiser – they may be the highest echelons of their society. They were considered so by all the community but especially by themselves.
The Elders.
They may be older and they may be wiser, but she was his Mother and her fear was that they would take him away from her.
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They took him away from her.
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The Elders, the Priests. They have never seen anything like it, like him.
They believed that Septimius was sent as a messenger; he was the lucky one, the chosen one. He was a gift from God.
They bowed in his presence. He would be revered and worshipped. He was set apart from others and so he had to be set apart.
The Mother did not understand what was happening. Septimius did not understand what was happening. Why had the child been singled out? The Elders, the Judges, the Priests passed judgement. They considered Septimius to be a god-like creature and he would be treated as such.
It meant separation.
No longer in solitude together.
They judged that their nation needed Septimius – this miracle of a child. He had to get what he deserved. Just desserts. So, he had to be raised to a higher ground. Before he had just been raised by her.
They took him away.
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They judged it was for the best.
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Kings
- 4 -
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It had been written down, prophesied apparently. They said he resembled the deity, that his presence was holy. His difference would make a difference.
Septimius just felt himself, but more scared and isolated than he had ever been.
A king in a castle.
He was surrounded by wealth. Septimius was not used to being surrounded, only surrounded by the love of his Mother. She was absent. The Mother of a God forbidden to see him. She was the one who only saw who he truly was.
He was her son.
Others never seemed to stop coming. People buying pardons, buying their way into a future life. Septimius was considered the key. He could unlock the future, the future of the nation.
King of Kings.
Pilgrimages. Guests and visitors flooded in. There were many more excluded from seeing him.
The Deity.
The ones excluded were the ones who could not afford the entrance fee – those that could not afford redemption and, more importantly, could not afford immortality.
His Mother could not afford the entrance fee.
Gold weighed him down. Ceremonial dress weighed him down. He felt the weight would mean he would sink. He was submerged in feelings.
Sink or swim.
Septimius did not long for palaces or thrones. He did not understand them.
All he was used to was a cave he felt safe in, where he felt warm.
In the shade.
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They told him, told everybody, he was re-born. He was the saviour comest. The past had prophesied him. He was unique – one of a kind. It had been written down. His past life, his present life and his future life.
Septimius just wanted his past life. Crumbs of memories in a life of opulence.
He wanted his little hide-away.
In the shade.
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Lamentations
- 5 -
Septimius did not feel like a God or even a king; the crown did not fit, cutting into his head. It felt like barbed wire because of the barbed comments he had not forgotten.
If he did indeed have a past life, he did not remember it. Now he was beginning to forget things about his existing life, forget the things that came first. Her – the one who bore him and looked after him. The features of her face were fading.
How can you miss a memory?
Septimius lived in his ivory tower, protected and guarded. He never needed to be on his guard. He was surrounded by others all the time.
All the time he was alone.
A God does not have to do anything except be a God, a being. Septimius did not have to lift a finger, or indeed a leg. Days are long when you do not have to lift a finger.
A palace, no matter how large, is only as large as its own dimensions. Septimius yearned to go into the outside world; the world he only viewed from above from his tower. He wanted to stretch his legs, just as he had wanted to do when he was a child. He had a vague memory. He knew however, that he would again attract stares as had happened before. These stares would be different. The stares would be downward in reverence. No-one looked him in the eye anymore.
No-one smiled at him anymore.
Septimius never had to look in the mirror to know what he looked like – there were portraits of him everywhere.
There were no family portraits.
He missed his family. The family he barely remembered.
How can you miss a memory?
A heaven on earth had been created for Septimius.
He was not in seventh heaven.
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Wisdom
- 6 -
Seek and you will find.
His life had become a game of hide and seek. Septimius was always found, always found out. There was nowhere to hide but there was someone he wanted to seek. He wanted to look for a memory.
Septimius wanted to find his Mother.
If only he could remember her.
If only he could find her.
His Mother.
Septimius was not a good God. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good, it was just that he wasn’t good at being a God. The Elders did notice but they had made their declaration and they had made their choice.
So, there was surprise when he summoned them to make his first decree. Septimius’ first decree was that he declared that there was to be a national day of independent reflection. It was to be a day of independent solitude.
A solitude that would include him. No guards, no protection. He assured them that he would be safe within the walls of his palace.
He will be safe, safe in the knowledge that he will finally be left in solitude - left in solitude to not be alone.
Seeking out a memory.
The day came and his appearance was pious. It was the appearance the Elders had always desired. To them, Septimius was showing maturity, showing that he was a true deity just as they had always prophesised. So, left alone he could escape in his thoughts.
He could escape.
No guards or protection. No guardian angels.
It could not escape the notice of others what he looked like. Now his deformity was known throughout his kingdom. However, everyone was confined indoors. It was the decree. It was the decree from Septimius. Everyone had to obey the rule that it was a day of contemplation; of individual contemplation. Even families had to be restricted throughout their homes, every member separated. And, where there was not enough rooms, society had to organise themselves. The key rule was isolation and separation.
It was a rule laid down by Septimius. They were the only two things that he had in his life.
Everyone was therefore indoors.
Everyone except Septimius.
It was a wise choice. He was wise beyond his years.
It should have been a trip down memory lane but he did not remember where memory lane was. He was uncertain whether he would recognise her but he had to try before all memory was gone.
So, Septimius wandered the empty streets recalling nothing. In desperation he felt his attempt had been a failure. The streets were empty and silent. He could not even hear his own tears.
A word.
He heard a word, maybe two. Maybe two people were talking. It was not allowed. They had broken Septimius’ rule, his decree.
Never a true or wise word was said in jest. He listened to their conversation. He did not hear a single word. He only heard a memory.
Septimius recognised her voice. He had come home.
You could feel the panic when he entered his home. The younger woman tried to escape, escape into the outside world as Septimius had wanted to do for so long. The older woman stood firm. She looked him in the eye. No-one had done that for so long. No-one had smiled at him for so long. No-one had looked upon him with love – except in a memory.
Septimius did not have to look at portraits to know that this was a member of his family – this was his family. He only had to look into his heart.
Her name was Salacia. She had come to visit his Mother because she had been forbidden to enter his palace. She was too poor to afford a pardon or a miracle from him so she had sought out his Mother.
She had needed a miracle. Salacia had been abandoned by her family and society because she was different, because she was deformed.
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Salacia had six legs.
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Revelation
- 7 -
In the end she was a single parent.
Salacia.
Her husband Septimius had died before the birth of their son. Her husband was not immortal. He laid where he had requested, resting his head.
In the shade.
The Elders awaited the birth – in their eyes, the re-birth.
Salacia had hoped that he would be the image of him and everything he represented, everything he had been. And he was. He was a loving caring son and grandson.
Octavius.
The Elders walked away in disappointment.
Octavius was just ordinary. There was nothing special about him.
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Octavius had eight legs.
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He was just another ordinary Octopus.
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