Jar's Monograph

When I rose, my eyes burned. It wasn't a sudden pain; it was more slow and consistent. It was as if it knew why it was there and had no intention of leaving. It knew my eyes were safe and that I couldn’t help it. Oh, the envy I hold for that pain, for it was not confused. I don’t know all the answers, and it scares me. I didn’t understand why I was there, but it felt like I’d been there for a while and would be leaving. I ran as fast as I could. I hit something. I couldn't see it at first, but when I refocused my vision, I realized something clear was blocking my passage. It seemed to go around me and up to the sky.

 The sky was shiny and reflected the tree. One time, I climbed up the tree and touched the sky. It was cold and smooth but not slippery. It was like it didn’t want to hurt me, but it didn’t plan to let me go. I never touched the sky again. 

I wasn’t supposed to see it, but I did anyway. Reality has a lot of feelings that I don’t get. 

I was starving. This feeling wasn’t new to me, but I don’t remember when I last felt it. I could have eaten anything. I thought about eating the tree, but couldn’t bring myself to. The tree was in all of my memories. If I ate it all, my memories would be eaten too. Occasionally, the sky would open, and a large monster would come in. It had five skinny, wet, sinuous necks and five sharp, red, knife-like heads on top of them. Then another beast behind the clear thing would point to me and make sounds. The only thing I could make out of it was “Homunculus”. I think Homunculus was the tree. After that, the monster would use its five necks to drop something into my world. It tasted terrible, but so did the thought of losing food. Once, I tried to eat the monster. It put me in darkness for all of eternity and a day. Then one day, the light came to me. 

* * *

I found it dusting the jars. I had many curiosities in the jars, but this one gripped me differently. It was wrapped in a ragged yet fine Cashmere cloth. The cloth was dusty and discolored. When I unwrapped the fabric, I found a clear mason jar—painted on the outside in a blue slanted calligraphy, Homunculus.  When I looked inside, I saw a Bonsai tree with a trunk resembling a fist and an outstretched index finger. Crouched under the tree was a small man-like creature. He had a shriveled body with a disproportionately large head and fists. He had razor-sharp blue eyes. I opened the jar. I blinked. The jar was back on the table in its cloth. I had a cut on my knuckle. The blood dripped onto the carpet. It was spelled “ I Am Menelaos. Do not eat my tree ”.  

* * *

Mother said not to look at them. That made them so much more exciting. She said they belonged to Ms.Hyacintha. According to Mother, everything belongs to Ms.Hyacintha. It’s like we belong to Ms.Hyacintha. Walking through the corridor, I smelled must, secrets, and lies. Like most thieves, I abhor lies. They are for people who are too weak to steal possession, so they steal perception. When I reached the end of the corridor, the walls were lined with shelves. Jars covered every open space. I knew all the interesting things would be hard to find, so I started looking. I found a jar bundled in a fabric that looked like it belonged on one of Ms.Hyacintha’s dresses. I carefully opened it. I knew that whatever it was was one of a kind.

The jar was labeled. Usually, I had to guess what I was looking at. Though the label made it easier, it took some of the whimsy out of it. Nevertheless, I could not read, so it didn’t matter. I peered through the glass and saw a tiny man with fists that looked too big for his body, the head of a monkey, and eyes as blue as the sky he had probably never seen, but no lips. He was being punished. I know what it's like. There was a tiny tree with a trunk that looked like it was pointing upward. Then I heard Ms.Hyacintha’s footsteps and quickly turned around. When I turned back, the jar was back in the fabric. My knuckle had a small cut on it, and my blood dripped onto the floor. Then I heard an ancient voice whisper, “I am Menelaos. Do not eat my tree”. I finally understood he was a thief. He needed me.

***

When I walked through the Specimen Hall, I could tell one of my jars had been moved. I held my past, present, and future in an airtight seal inside those jars. As I inspected some more, I realized the Homunculus had been touched. He was supposed to be in darkness for all eternity and a day. He was wrapped back up in his rag, but I could tell it had been opened. Light has a way of staining things. Of course, it was the Homunculus. His eyes sang a song that could only be heard by those in jars. He had a way of manipulating people. I don't think he knows he sings, but it’s because of that song that he’s in there. I didn’t think he could sing when I made him, but the song told me to put him in the jar, seal it, and write Homunculus on it in sea snail's blood. So I did.

***

The light came as fast as it went. Twice. I wish I had known loneliness. The loneliness was a slowly rising, low-hanging stench. Slow enough that you only knew it was there once you were so deep in it that you couldn’t escape it. I didn’t deserve to see the light, but I don’t think I deserved to be put in darkness for eternity and a day. I had seen a new form of monster. They looked similar to my head but had two parallel, horizontal, fleshy tubes under the nose, almost like wet, red tree trunks. One even peered into my pathetic world. It was the smallest of the three I had seen. It knew something about me that I didn’t, as it seemed all the monsters did. Though I don't remember seeing them before this, I was confident I had. Sometimes I think it could tell me about my past. I will not eat it until it tells me to. If I must, I will outlive it. It is the only meaning left in my world.

Seeing my world being jostled made me think it was not its own. Maybe it was a mere vessel, a possession in the monster's material world. Like life on display, monsters would observe my world but not dare enter it as if they feared me and the tree, but questioned our being sentient. Then the tree spoke to me. It told me I was being taken. The thought of me being worth stealing, for just a moment, made me forget I was hungry.