Dajan

by Falling Wednesday

Author's Notes: This is a story I wrote years ago in junior high. I didn't make any changes (excluding typos)

I thought I would share it.

“And then, the big bad wolf said ‘the better to eat you with!’”

I opened my mouth wide and snarled. I heard Dajan laugh and clap his hands in delight.

Smiling, I continued the story of Little Red Riding Hood. Of course, Dajan hardly understood what I was saying, for he didn’t know any English, but he seemed to listen and hold onto every word I said. He had once told me in broken English that his name meant “dark sky during heavy rain,” but I knew he was the complete opposite. He was the sunshine in my dark world.

After I had finished telling him my story, I heard the bell hanging over my door jingle as someone walked in.

“It is Father,” he said in a smooth, collected voice.

I followed the echoes of his footsteps with my ears until I heard the chair next to me squeak and sag as he sat down.

“Abraham, I need to speak to you.”

“That’s the only thing you can actually do for me,” I thought, face wrinkled in anger.

My father never came to my room unless he had bad news. He was all business, buying and trading slaves all throughout the year.

“The slave boy is ten today,” he started.

“His name is Dajan,” I interrupted.

Father ignored me as he continued. “That means you’ll have a new entertainer to keep you company.”

I felt like I’ve been slapped in the face.

“Why do you call him that? He’s not my entertainer, Father. Dajan is my friend.”

“You do not make friends with slaves, Son--especially working ones.”

I would’ve shot him an angry look, but I couldn’t see him. Only the usual darkness glared back into my glazed, empty eyes.

“I know that, Father. I make friends with people, and Dajan happens to be one of the best people I know! And plus, I’m ten too. Why aren’t I taken away?!” I shouted angrily to the darkness.

I felt another slap in the face, but this time it was real. Streams of warm tears fell down the sides of my cheeks.

“Take him away,” he said.

I sobbed as I heard two other pairs of footsteps come into my room and take away Dajan as he mumbled “Good bye, Abe.” He was a small, yet strong boy.

“I’ll bring in another one tomorrow, Abraham,” Father said before leaving the room.

I cried myself to sleep that night. I blamed Father, for I never cried to sleep when Dajan was with me.

The next morning, Father kept his word and brought in another slave boy for me. I didn’t want him.

“I want Dajan, Father,” I said sourly.

“Dajan need to work, Son. I paid a lot of money for him. This fellow here will be better than Dajan.”

He thrust a rope into my hands. This was how Dajan was given to me when I was five years old. My father tied ropes around the slaves like dogs, chains for those who were stronger. He left without a word, leaving me with my new friend.

Trying to make the best out of it, I turned towards the rope and weakly smiled.

“Hi, my name’s Abe, what’s yours?”

Only his deep, shallow breathing replied. Maybe he didn’t speak English.

“Do you have a name? I asked, trying not to sound offensive. The slaves born on the farm didn’t have names like people “fresh from Africa” as Father put it.

Again, only a slow, rhythmic breathing replied.

“Well, may I give you a name? I don’t want to call you Slave Boy, y’know.”

And that’s how I recreated Dajan. For the first few weeks, he merely sat by the door, breathing and listening to the stories I told him. Although he now bore the same name, he wasn’t anything like the real Dajan. He never laughed or clapped in delight at my stories. I missed my only source of light.

“Why don’t you ever speak?” I asked him one day, exasperated.

Without someone to talk and listen to, my dark world became even darker, and it frightened me. What if Dajan wasn’t even there? What if Father had tricked me and handed a rope tied to a bag of flour?

I felt better when I heard light footsteps padding towards me.

“Dajan?”

I felt a warm, small hand through the light, cotton blanket. My heart stopped ringing in my ears and I smiled in relief. Father hadn’t deceived me. Outside was quiet and the wind blew through the trees, whistling. It must have been night.

Dajan’s slow, warm breathing was like a lullaby and I felt warmer under my sheets. I drifted off to my dreams, the most beautiful and colorful place on earth.

After that night, I became inseparable to Dajan. Of course, I had to drag him around with the rope, for Father forbade me to hold his hands. He said all colored men were dirty. The silent boy went everywhere with me; to the bathroom, dinner table, my bedroom, and even when I snuck outside, which was strictly prohibited in my state.

I was thirteen when it came to my third year with Dajan. Father obviously didn’t care whether I was considered to be mature now or not. He often talked to my mother about how useless I was, not being able to be educated. This fact never bothered me, for disappointing Father was all I ever wanted. But that day, I had overheard him talking about sending me away. It wasn’t a boarding school, camp, or a relative’s.

It was a hospital at the other side of the continent.

At first, I thought I had merely heard wrong. After all, why would I be sent to a hospital? I wasn’t sick, I wasn’t ill; I didn’t carry any diseases. I just happen to have no use of my eyes, that’s all.

Shaking my head, I reached my arm out to grab onto Dajan’s rope, squeezing it against my chest, trying to absorb as much comfort as I can. I slightly jumped when the door to my bedroom jingled open.

“Abe.”

It was my mother.

“Abe, how are you doing?” she asked with her sweet, honey-like voice.

I shook my head, refusing to answer her. I so wanted to see her expression, to see the pained look in her eyes and laugh, but I couldn’t.

I hated this. I hated this dark, stuffy world.

“Go away, Mother.”

Taken aback, Mother released my grip onto the rope and placed her small, cool hands on top of mine.

“Abe, listen to me. I know you heard what we were saying.”

I was surprised.

“You wanted me to hear?” I asked in disbelief.

“No, no, no! Of course not! It was your father. I know he may be unfair, but he’s a good man and wants what’s best for you.”

I shook my head.

“He wants to send me to a hospital, Mother.”

“So you can see again!”

I defiantly continued to shake my head, biting my lower lip.

“Mother, you don’t understand. I was born like this. It’s impossible to give sight to a blind like that, Mother. Father hates me.”

I was able to tell that Mother ran out of words, for she let out a deep sigh and silently left the room. For a few minutes, I fumed and sat on the bed, my hands clutching onto the rope. Then suddenly as if a bomb had been lit, I exploded and thrust the rope at Dajan.

“Why don’t you talk to me?! Can’t you see what’s happening? You’re not making me happy! THAT’S WHY MOTHER IS AGREEING WITH FATHER TO SEND ME AWAY!”

I angrily threw all my sheets, pillows, shoes, and hatred at Dajan. Each yelp and thudcoming from Dajan’s body made me feel better, for I was able to hear something else besides my angry retorts and Mother’s words echoing in my mind.

Finally out of breath, I started to cry as I slumped over my empty bed. Life wasn’t fair; for both me and Dajan. It was as if Father Almighty had accidentally created me, so decided to blind me in order to take me away faster than the average child.

I chuckled to myself. It made perfect sense.

Not bothering to grab my shoes, I felt my way towards the door and wandered down the hall, grasping onto the walls. As soon as I found the exit to the house, I ran outside.

I was free.

Having escaped my house more than a couple times, I easily found the trail to the river. I broke off into a run as soon as my bare feet felt the well, pounded earth. The wind touched my face and the cold felt good against my burning cheeks. Laughter erupted from my chest as I held out my arms and ran faster and faster.

And before I knew it, I had plunged into the water.

I was neither surprised nor scared; I was fully content. I was doing something forbidden that was perfectly normal to other boys.

I was swimming.

At first, it was easy. My arms glided across the waters with ease and my head was above the water and getting enough oxygen. But soon, the current grew stronger and threw me underwater.

I didn’t know which way was up or down.

Screaming, I thrashed my arms and legs, trying to find the surface. But was it below me or above? I couldn’t tell.

I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to live either. I just wanted to see. See my bedroom, the trees, my mother, and even my father. But the person I wanted to see the most was Dajan. He had been by my side for three years, even though he never shared a word. He was my friend.

Just then, I felt someone grab the collar of my shirt and sweet air surrounded me. I gulped it in as I was sluggishly dragged to the shore. As soon as I felt the mud squishing against my fingers, I grabbed onto my rescuer and helped him onto the bank as well.

“Thank you,” I gasped.

The familiar, deep breathing of Dajan answered me. But it wasn’t the usual even breaths he took. They were raspy and cut short.

Ignoring my father’s words, I felt around for his body and threw my arms around it. It was abnormally warm and damp, fur-like substance brushed against my bare arms.

Dajan was furry.

“Dajan?”

I felt the floor vibrate as something thudded against the earth.

Confused, I knitted my brows.

I felt around for my friend’s hands, but grabbed onto a small paw instead.

A warm tongue weakly licked my face and a wet nose nudged my neck. Dajan’s breathing became heavier and slower. My eyes brimmed with tears as I returned Dajan’s first and last kiss with an embrace.

Dajan was neither a slave nor a person. He was a common dog. But he and I proved to Father that friendship could thrive anywhere; even in a world as dark as mine.