October had nearly ended, as had autumn. Winter snows would soon be upon Asphodel, and as Guereda stared outside their apartment window, a hot cup of cider in their hands, they pondered the changing of the seasons. Leaves were falling, carpeting the ground in shades of red and orange, while pumpkins and pumpka were plucked from the fields and lit the night. In a few days, it would be the Haunted Hallow. There would be children everywhere. There would be laughter and sweets and singing of dark and moody songs in happy and cheerful voices. Neighbors would play violin music from the stereos or pipe organs from boomboxes, setting the mood. There would be spiders, real and fake, and Nezubats would fill the air. Children would run from door to door while their parents shouted at them to slow down. They would carve jack-o-lanterns and gorge themselves on candy, posing for photographs for the parents and their relatives, acting sweet to their neighbors and playing pranks on their friends. It would be cold outside, but warm inside every heart, and it was only the beginning. For in a few short weeks, scarcely four in number, the season of the winter solstice would be upon them.Reda sipped their cider. That was the thing, wasn’t it. The cold and dark sky huddled around the bright lights of candles in the window. There would be even more song, and there would be even more organ music. There would be sleighbells a-jingling and fingers a-tingling. There would be laughter and music and love. Children would build snow forts and snowmares and throw snowballs at each other. They would decorate evergreen trees to give thanks to the gods for the gift of the season. They would make cookies with their parents, and rip open brightly colored packages. There would be laughter, and joy, and—
Reda set down their now-empty cup and leaned their forehead against the window. It was too much. Too much. They had friends, they had friends, but it wasn’t enough. They felt a hole in their heart, a gaping wound that would not heal without the input of love. They felt lost and abandoned, and at this time of year, they only wanted something to hold. They wanted to comfort someone, share in their triumphs and commiserate with their failures. They wanted love, they wanted love, they wanted love!
Reda didn’t realize where they were until they were at the train station. They looked around themselves. They appeared to be wearing their jacket, and they had changed out of their mint green Mary Janes and into a cute pair of pink boots. They looked around themselves. The train? Why were they on the train?
Oh…of course…
It was October. Soul Stone dispensaries were closed in October, everyone knew that from life skills class. It was to prevent mutations from cropping up in children. And it wasn’t a myth, either—Reda had grown up at the Academy. They had seen children every year with multiple eyes and tiny wings, the marks of an October imbuement. Which meant that if prospective parents wanted children during the month of October, they had to get them on the black market. The local town near Grendel wasn’t big enough to have a black market that could provide what Reda was seeking. That meant she had to go to Asphodel Garden, or better yet Asphodel herself. They’d heard enough rumors at Academy and university to make a pretty good guess at where they could find a soulstone at this time of the month. So that wasn’t a worry. What was a worry was…what were they doing here? Going to get a soulstone? They knew what the consequences were of getting one, they knew what would happen to a child like that. They knew that this was an impulse, and a purchase, which made it an impulse purchase, which was never a good idea. They hadn’t thought this through. They needed to turn around, unless they came up with a very good answer.
Well, if there was an answer, there must have been a question. So what was the question?
How can I take care of a child?
It’s not hard. You feed them, you comfort them, you take care of them when they’re sick, you help them out. You hold their hand, you do what they want to do, unless it hurts them, in which case you put your foot down. You acted responsibly. You kept a consistent schedule. Reda would be the first to admit that they didn’t really eat regularly. But with a child around, they would always have a reminder to, right? So there was no way they would forget to take care of their baby, or fail to. And even if they didn’t know how, they could always look it up. People had been writing about it in pamphlets and books for centuries, and now it was on the internet, too. They would always have help at their fingertips, or at least words of advice.
What would I do with a child?
Go ice skating in winter. Decorate trees. Drink hot cocoa. Make snowballs and paper snowflakes. Bake cookies and casseroles. Go flower-walking in spring. Pick and press flowers. Grow grass in paper cups and sugar crystals in jars. Go on picnics and attend imaginary tea-parties. Go stargazing in summer. Visit the beach, go wading into tidepools. Make sandcastles and climb trees. Eat hot dogs and fried potatoes. Go pumpkin picking in fall. Make apple cider at the local historical society. Go shopping for new clothes for school and admire the color of the leaves. Decorate the house for Haunted Hallows and trick-or-treat under the light of the moon.
Do I have time for a child?
Reda worked, it was true, and they did go to school. That was true. They were a college student. But their child would be at school most of the time anyway, and their schedule would allow them to pick up their child from the train station when necessary. That wouldn’t be often—a school bus waited to pick up the children from the train station every day and take them to their homes around town. And if that wasn’t possible, they could live at the dorms. Reda had been saving their money for a long time. They could afford to pay tuition and fees, and they had a good job at the library, with the potential to make more publishing articles and stories in magazines. They could afford to have a child, and spend time with them, too. Their homework was not too onerous, and they had free time on the weekends. They could definitely take care of a child. It wasn’t like they were doing much else with their free time.
Is now the time?
Reda looked out the window. If I have to spend another lonely winter without someone at my side, I will die. Their eyes stung. They slowly wiped away their own tears. The empty ache had been there a long time. It was time to go. So what if it was October. The Academy had always had mutant children, since its very conception. Mutations were never fatal, or if they ever were, Reda had never heard about it. So the child’s life would be a little bit more difficult. No more difficult than it would be if it were a hybrid, or a race that some other child disliked. The Academy had a zero-tolerance policy for bullying. Reda’s child would be safe, no matter what it looked like.
Yes.
Reda got off the train and made their way to the black market and into the unknown and slightly terrifying world of parenthood.
They promised themselves one thing: they would never walk alone again.
