CHAPTER ONETHE SONG
Damju awoke to the song.
It was a beautiful song.
It danced in her head—coming from everywhere, all at once. She sat up, opening her eyes to a familiar world of light and shapes. It was the way she saw, which had always been different from others. It was still night. Night was dull. Not like daytime that glowed. And there were night’s sounds that lulled her to sleep—chirping crickets, night birds, and howling animals that shared their small valley.
She tilted her head to listen. Only there wasn’t any of that now. There was only quiet—like someone had told the world to hush. There was just the song. Beautiful and strange, filling up her thoughts.
But where was it coming from? Who would be playing music so late? Standing, she ran fingers along the cracked mud walls of her home, careful not to stumble over her mother—who lay sleeping. She reached down to put a hand to where her two brothers should have been, but there was only emptiness.
Not long ago Damju could walk easily under calabash bottles hanging from their ceiling. But she’d seen almost twelve harvests now and the bottles grazed her hair as she moved to the door. She pushed through it and outside.
The night air was warm and still strangely quiet. But she wasn’t alone. She could just make out the shapes of people moving along narrow moonlit streets. Some were small. Others her height. All children, she realized in surprise. She frowned. What could they be doing? She reached out, catching someone’s arm.
“Wait! What’s happening?”
A breathless reply came. “The song, Damju! Can’t you hear it? Can’t you see—Oh! I’m sorry!”
Damju recognized the voice. Ewa, who always seemed to forget Damju saw differently. “I hear it. But what do you see?” How did you see a song?
Ewa fumbled. Her voice was strange—like someone still half asleep. “I can’t explain. But the song shows you things. Beautiful things!”
Damju was confused. A song that showed you things?
“Where are all of you going?”
“To find the song, of course,” Ewa answered. “Just like you.”
“What? I’m not—” She stopped, realizing her feet were moving! But when had she started walking? The song! She could feel it pulling at her, urging her on. Ewa shrugged away, leaving Damju between other children, all marching forward like a flowing river.
Fighting, she made her feet stop, planting them firm in the middle of the street as others pushed past. “Kambo! Dawda!” she called to her brothers. They had to be out here. But how long ago had they left home? How far might they have gone? The thought made her panic, and she shouted their names over and over into the night.
“Damju!” Someone grabbed her. Her brother! She clutched on to him.
“Kambo! Where’s Dawda?”
“Right here,” her other brother answered.
Damju breathed in relief. “I thought you were gone.”
“We almost were,” Dawda snickered. “Came back when we heard you calling after us like a loud goat!”
Dawda was always the one to make jokes. For once, Damju didn’t laugh.
“This song, it isn’t right! We have to—”
“It’s okay, Damju,” Kambo said.
“The song’s showed us what’s out there,” Dawda added.
“What? What did it show you?”
“Baba!” Kambo said. “He’s waiting for us!”
Damju stared up at the shape of her brother’s face, too stunned to answer. Other children passed by, and they were now the only ones just standing. Baba? Their father was gone. He’d died when she was small. Her brothers remembered him better than she did, but he was gone all the same. Did ghosts walk this night?
“I know how it sounds,” Dawda said. “But we saw him, Damju. Calling us.”
Something Ewa said came back. The song showed you things—beautiful things.
She shook her head. “No! It’s not real! The song! It’s showing you what you want to see. It must want you to—!”
“It’s fine, Damju,” Kambo assured her, his voice like Ewa’s now—half asleep. “We’ll come back, with baba.”
“No, don’t go!” But they were already gone, and her hands clutched at other children who pushed forward. One by one, they marched past the village’s low stone walls, chasing what the song showed them, the things Damju couldn’t see.
Somewhere in the valley came another curious sound. A woman’s voice. Damju thought the woman might be crying, and she fought to hear the words above the song.
The children. He has taken the children. Taken them from me. The children, the Children of Night …
When everyone had gone, she stood alone, until the song and the voice faded away.
Copyright © 2023 by P. Djèlí Clark
