By Ya Han Hsu

Peter

For as long as he remembered, he had lived in the woods with Horace, his mentor all his life. They used to live around the tropic, in the rain forests. However the trees got chopped down a few years ago, forcing Peter and Horace to move.

He still dreamt of the life he had there sometimes. He remembered the birds humming tunes and flying over the trees. He once found a rare parrot feather, with a mixture of white and golden color. He still tied the feather on his thatch, whenever he got mournful and began missing the rainforests, he would touch it, feeling the softness slid through his palm.

The thatch is passed down by the Son of Earths, it was similar to Eliza’s boat, as she told him. The thatch was given by the God of Earth, Lance. The names of the Son of Earths were curved on it once they were sixteen. Peter’s name was on it, too.

He also remembered the native people, Horace would cure them with his powers in exchange for clothes. Peter had once asked Horace how he cures people. “ We each have different talents, the Son of Earths. Mine is to cure people. You will find your special ability one day, too.”Horace had said. Peter saw stars as he laid down on the boat to rest, for all the people Horace had healed, he still couldn’t help himself in the poisoned woods.

As Horace had said, Peter slowly felt his powers growing a few years later. Peter couldn’t really describe the feeling, but he could sense and control the fungus hidden underground. He heard trees sharing messengers through them, like invisible threads, weaving a world just between him, the trees and the fungus. But the first thing Horace said after Peter told him about this was a warning. He told Peter to never try to control the fungus. Peter was disappointed and unconvinced. So one day, he tried to control the fungus. Suddenly, there were like thousands of pins piercing in his hands and inside his body, Peter wanted to scream but he couldn’t. “ You shouldn’t have tried to contain them! They are lives too. If you can connect with them, they can hurt you too! This is just a warning! They could have killed you if they wanted to!Didn’t I warn you before?” Horace was furious when he found Peter laying half dead in the wetlands.

Now, Peter had learnt to communicate, not to try and control them, but when he needed them, he would try to convince the fungus to help. They weren’t willing to help every time, but they were just lives, too, Peter had begun to understand that.