Daylight Seized

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A brave little boy with curious powers is taken from his parents for the King.

Submitted: March 10, 2013

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Submitted: March 10, 2013



His parents pleaded with the royal guards. "Please, he's only a child," his mother pleaded, clinging to her four-year-old son as tears streamed down her face. "He won't be able to do the work, not yet," she rationalized between sobs, holding her son close, his head on her shoulder. "Please, just wait a few more years..." she cried. The young boy looked up at his mom, his shaggy brown hair spiking up as some of the locks were relieved from the pressure of her hand. "Mama," he murmured, his light brown eyes looking worried and scared. He reached a small hand up and wiped the wetness from her cheek.

He frowned at the guards, clenching his wet hand. "You made Mama cry," he said angrily. He heard his mother gasp as the intruders were encased in a tight ball, the area around them growing brighter and warmer. Soon, they were sweating as they fumbled around in confusion, their tempers quickly growing more and more sour as the heat increased. They realized the child was causing the unnatural happenings and reached for their swords, but the swords were scorching hot from absorbing the heat around them. Needless to say, the men soon began to blow on their hands to try to ease the burn.

He heard his mother begging him to stop, petting his hair as she tried to sooth her only child. "I'm fine, baby," she murmured. "Please don't hurt them," she asked of him. "Please," she begged, rocking him gently. Slowly, the angry four-year-old let the guards go and returned the room to normal. The guards looked pissed and took a step forward, but the boy's father stepped between them. "Please, give us a few minutes to say goodbye," he asked of them.

"Mama.. I'm tired," the little boy said, his eyes drooping. His mother rested her forehead on his, stroking his tiny face with her thumb. "I know, baby," she whispered, tearing up again. It was killing her to know she had to let her baby go. She knew he wouldn't be safe, but all three of them would be killed if she didn't let him go. She closed her eyes tight, praying that he would make it through and be able to come back to them safely. "Your daddy and I love you," she whispered, her lower lip shaking. "We love you so much... Be good for them. No more using your powers," she whispered. "Promise me."

The little boy, nodded, looking up at her tiredly. "Why are you crying, Mama? Where am I going," he asked, hugging her and resting his head on her shoulder as he clung to her. He didn't want to leave. He liked staying with his Mama and Daddy. They had a lot of fun together. He didn't understand why they were giving him away. He whimpered, beginning to cry himself. "Are you and daddy mad at me? I'll be good, I promise..."

"Hush, baby," his mother patted his back. "Your daddy and I love you so much," she pulled him back so he looked into her face. "But we don't have a lot of money. They're gonna take care of you for a while, and then you can come back home," she told him. "But you have to do as they say," she held him close. Her husband knelt down and wrapped his arms around them both. Partly to sooth his wife, and mostly to let his son know that he loved him. "Listen to your mother," he told the boy gently, patting the boy's head. "Be good for them. We love you, Joseph," he told his son, and pursed his lips against the shakiness he felt in his voice. He felt it was his fault that he son was being taken from them. What kind of father and husband was he, that he couldn't bring enough money to feed them well, let alone pay off the debt of the land.

The boy smiled up at his daddy obediently and nodded. The grown man chuckled, and ruffled the little boy's hair. "That's my boy," he murmured fondly. He kissed his forehead and had his wife follow suit before the man lifted his son out of his wife's arms and handed him to the King's men. Joseph looked back at his mom and dad sadly as the men got what they wanted and left the house. "MAMA, DADDY!! I LOVE YOU," the boy screamed so they would hear him through the walls. The man holding him yanked on his arm and muttered for him to shut up. Joseph cried tears of loss and fear as he was carried into unknown grounds.

He was taken to a bakery, where the owner frowned in dismay at the small, now-sleeping package that had been delivered to him. He spoke in whispers so as not to wake the boy. "You're sure this is the Sun," he asked, clearly furious. The King's man nodded. "Yes, sir. We were witness to his powers first-hand," he frowned. "There is no doubt this is the boy."

The owner sighed, pacing back and forth in the lobby of his bakery. "What in the hell am I going to do with a toddler," he asked, annoyed that he had been reduced to baby-sitting. The guard shrugged. "We don't care, nor does His Majesty. Just take him and keep him until he is called for." "Fine, fine, just give me the brat," he hissed. The guard shook the boy awake, and the little one straightened and yawned, jolting awake as he did not recognize his surroundings. "This is your master," the guard told him, setting the boy down. "You will stay with him and do as he says."

The four-year-old looked up at his new master with cautious brown eyes. The master sneered. "Come on, boy. I'll show you where you'll be staying." The little one said nothing as he followed the middle-aged man to the back of the bakery and down the wooden stairs. His master waited impatiently, as the boy's small legs had troubles traveling down the creaky stairs. Losing his patience as Joseph reached the fourth-to-last step, he grabbed his arm and heaved him to the dirt floor. The boy landed with a soft grunt and looked up at his master. "We don't have a lot of time. You have to be fast," his master told him. The only reason he was being somewhat kind is so he wouldn't have to listen to the boy crying so late at night. That was the last thing he wanted to hear before he went to bed.

The boy nodded and followed his master past the oven and piles of wood to be burned to bake. They reached another door in the back of the basement and it creaked as his master opened it. There were lots of people, humans and anthros alike, sleeping on the floor. Some had blankets and others used the old burlap rags as pillows against the hard dirt. "You'll sleep in here," the master said. Hearing his voice, some of the slaves sat up to see what the master wanted at such an odd hour. Seeing the small boy being all but shoved into the room with the door shut behind him, all but one of the slaves laid back down to ignore him. The only one who didn't was a man who was turning gray.

He motioned for Joseph to come to him, and so the boy did. "Lay down with me," the man whispered. Lost and tired, Joseph laid down next to the man and cuddled up against him. "I miss Mama and Daddy," he murmured after a short while. The man looked down at him. "You'll be alright," he murmured his reply to the boy. "Sleep. We have to get up early." Joseph, as silently as he could manage, cried himself to sleep.

The next morning, the older slave showed him around, teaching him the daily chores. Wake early, put the blankets in the corner, all folded up. Sweep the floors and ready the oven for baking. Prepare the dough, knead it to get all the air bubbles out; this was the little boy's favorite. Though the older slave was amused, he chuckled and chided the boy that they weren't playing. They had to do it quickly because their master didn't like waiting. The boy nodded and did it as quickly as he could. Soon it was time for breakfast, though it was light. "You'll have to earn your rations," he told Joseph. "The better work you do, the more the master will give you to eat. If you do poorly, you won't eat at all. And if it makes the master angry enough, he will pull out the whip."

The boy's eyes were wide. "What's the whip," he asked. "Trust me, kid. You don't wanna know." After a few more hours of working, however, the boy would learn. An elderly slave had collapsed as she was carrying a box of freshly made bread. The master was furious and made the slaves gather, like he always did for punishments. He whipped the old woman's back, one for each of the loafs of bread she ruined. After the third smack, Joseph tensed as he started to manipulate the light, but then immediately stopped as he remembered his mother's orders not to use his powers. He stayed tense, his little fists clenched as his eyes filled with frustrated tears. He wanted the sun that he hadn't been able to see all day. He wanted his mom and his dad and his own bed. He wanted to be home. But he had a feeling he'd be stuck here, without any of them, for a long, long time...

© Copyright 2018 Jean Kyn. All rights reserved.

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