On a morning like any other, something stirred in the darkness of its sanctuary. Slowly it opened its eyes, rolled over and hugged its blanket.


    Like most boys his age, Wania was not a morning person. The smell and sounds coming from the kitchen tempted him, but the world outside his bed was just so cold. The boy pushed his face into the pillow and tried to get back to sleep.


    "Wania, get up!!" the voice of his mother came from the door, followed by a couple of hasty knocks. "I know you are awake young man!"


    The teen shot up and with a few, swift moves put on his pants, decorated with three white stripes. He found out they were the height of the current fashion, mixed with a white tank-top and purple slippers on long, white socks.


    Before his mother could call for him again, he opened the door and greeted her with a smile, "Good morning, mother."


    The white-haired, well-endowed woman studied her youngest child. The boy was already a head taller than her, his ears-long blonde hair messily sticking out in all directions. She fixed his shirt, stained with a sauce from some late-night snack and nodded. "I''m happy to see you so full of energy, eat quickly and feed the goat before it nibbles on the house again."


    Suddenly, she felt the hairs on her back stand, as something slithered behind her, spreading a familiar aura. When the woman turned around, she only saw the yellow of her husband''s old-fashioned cloak disappear into the kitchen. She shook her head and stormed after the man.


    Anticipating his parents morning ritual, Wania plugged his ears and slowly marched towards the kitchen. When he finally reached the door, his parents sat at the table, calmly exchanging plates and preparing their sandwiches.


    "Greetings to you, father." The boy slightly bowed his head and took his seat. The man on the other side of the simple, wooden table, nodded back, his long black hair flowing out of the hood of the yellow cloak, framing the chiselled, dark face. "Greetings to you too, my boy." Came out a gravel voice.


    The dark-skinned giant, clearly satisfied with the lengthy conversation, bit into a sausage and washed it down with a glass of a clear liquid. Wania wrinkled his nose at his mother''s special brew and made himself a jam and white cheese sandwich.


    "Honey, you will have to get used to vodka. Imbibing it is an important ritual for other kids your age." The woman chastised the kid and swallowed her meaty sandwich.


    "It is not vodka you brew mother. I''ve already tried what the city kids drink and it didn''t taste different from water." Wania puffed up his chest, while pouring himself a glass of goat milk. Half-way through raising the glass to his mouth, the boy froze, realising what he confessed to.


    The woman rose in her chair, preparing to scold her son, but was interrupted by the gravel voice. "Katya, my dearest, you cannot expect him to hold his alcohol with others if you never let him drink it."


    "He can get used to the taste, once he moved out of my house, Teph." She focused her rage on her husband, allowing Wania to relax. "I permitted you to handle raising our last daughter and how did that end? She forsook our traditions, our way of life and cosied up with some whore, from that little island!!"


    "I wonder if she will still visit if she were to know what you call her wife? Would the priestess bring her outstanding dishes?" The man smirked and finished his sausage, dipping it into a bucket of caviar.


    "You wouldn''t dare..."


    Having finished his meal, Wania got up and turned to leave. "Don''t think I forgot about you Wania! After you feed the goat, clean out the outhouse."


    "Yes, mother." The boy bowed towards his progenitors and rushed into the corridor. He hoped to make it outside, before his parent''s argument blew up.


    With practised moves, he put on his thick, warm suit. He fiddled a little with the hat, waist and gloves, to make sure it was sealed and stepped into the exit.


    The world outside, greeted him with a wide field of white, most of the sky covered in blue. The sun was just climbing over the horizon, giving an almost blinding sparkle to the surroundings.


    Loud bleating and mewling interrupted his moment of peace, a small animal bumping into his knee, asking for a sumptuous offering. Wania caressed the goats head and led it towards the pantry. "How''s your morning Shrub?"This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The goat bleated louder and hopped around the esteemed feeder. It complained he was late, but promised to forgive the transgression if he provided her with some proper ear scratching. The boy laughed and obliged, careful to avoid its eyes, the task made challenging by his thick gloves.


    Sneakily, he attached a chain to the goat''s collar and walked into the pantry. After careful consideration, he grabbed a wide and low can, from near the ceiling. The young man secured the can to the ground just outside the door. Before opening the can, he made sure to seal the door properly and turned around to unchain the voracious animal.


    The goat already bit through the chain and chomped down on the can. "I suppose a little iron won''t be bad for your diet. I better note down to bring out a new chain later, though."


    Wania opened a pocket on his left sleeve and scratched the memo into the pad inside. With that done, he left towards the outhouse. The goat mewled after him, the sound disturbed by the metal it was chewing. The boy waved at the pet and steeled his resolve. The task before him would be a gruelling challenge, worthy of a demigod.


    With large, measured steps, Wania struggled to the outhouse. Careful not to trip, he pulled a shovel out of the ground and looked up at the wooden structure before him.


    The boy nodded his head, lifted the locks on the door and came into the spacious room. He adjusted his footing, feeling the change in his weight and with a sigh, walked over to the leftmost sit. He plunged the shovel in and out, in and out, struggling not to let go of it as it got stuck in the mess below. "Why can''t we build a proper toilet? Mother and her traditions." Wania complained and kept at his work.


    "It builds character she says, it''s a good exercise she says." The young man mumbled under his voice and moved on to the next hole.


    Three holes later and half-way done, Wania came out, stuck the shovel back in the ground and plopped down. He leaned his back on the wall of the outhouse and looked up at the blue. Next week, he''d move out to live on his own, experience college. He rubbed his hat, groaned and let his hand back down to the ground.


    "What''s up?" Came a young, feminine voice from his left. His neighbour Sophia, was looking down at him while petting her family''s dog.


    "I''m alright... I blurted out, that I drank some vodka and mother has me cleaning the outhouse." The boy struggled back to his feet and faced his friend. "How''s your morning Marika?"


    "Mom''s been getting cranky, she says something is changing in the air." The young woman answered and looked towards her home, a small wooden building jutting out of the all-encompassing white. "Teph having any issues too?"


    "Lately he had to drink mom''s brew every morning, but you know how he is, won''t say much." Wania shook his head and also looked towards his home, the largest building in the village. "Did Thulu say anything specific?"


    "Nope, only that the air is shit. Dad''s been trying to placate her, that they could call uncle to send over some seawater... did that send her into a fit." Sophia sighed and admired the blue above. "At least we will get some calm over there."


    Suddenly, a large shadow covered the sky, shocking the teens. Before they could find what caused it, everything cleared up and the bleating of two goats came from their knees.


    The two looked down at Shrub, who nodded at them apologetically and ripped into it''s most recent offspring, tearing open it''s back. Sophia''s dog trembled, squirming its back a little and dropped to the ground, clawing at its snout.


    "Shit, I will take Yog back home. See you after you dealt with your punishment?" The girl picked up her dog and asked over her shoulder.


    "Alright, I should finish in like an hour, or so." Wania picked up the shovel and went back into the outhouse. Before closing the door, he took a glance outside, Shrub was licking up the remains of its child. The goat bleated in annoyance and hopped away. "Will things really be calm?"


    The last hole turned out to require more effort and the boy only left the outhouse after two hours. Sophia sat outside, sketching random symbols in the ground. "Took you a while." She said, without looking up.


    "It seems one of the older ones, lost control in the last stall. I will have to prepare a new shovel." Wania sighed and tried to make sense of the runes in the ground. "What are you making?"


    "Just practising some writing, I''m not sure which country my parents will send me to, so I want to be prepared for any possibility." The young woman stood up and stretched.


    "How''s Yog?" The boy asked and began walking towards the small grove outside the village.


    "Dad had to put him in its cage, it began burping bubbles." The girl paused and let out a sigh. "I think the next couple of years will be more exciting than we expected."


    "Yeah..." Wania sighed too and looked up at the blue. "But... they''d tell us if something serious was happening, right?"


    "They don''t exactly consider anything, besides your grandfather coming over, serious." Sophia chuckled. "The world could blow up and they will just shrug like it''s another Tuesday."


    "Well, they''d make a feast, so not exactly just another Tuesday." Wania let out a hollow laugh and flexed his hands. "Fuck... I haven''t..."


    "Keep it together, they won''t let you come if you..." The young woman chocked and squatted, hugging her legs. "Alright, fuck."


    The teenagers took a couple, synchronised deep breathes and hurried to the grove.


    <hr>


    Late in the evening, Wania sat before his computer and released a deep sigh. He smacked the white box a couple of times, but the machine refused to turn on. Resigned, he parted with one of his blins and shoved into the cd-rom reader. The machined released a satisfied whirl and the screen lit up.


    The boy opened his browser and was greeted by the title of his blog. In large, silver letters, it read "Moon Walking".


    Wania stretched his fingers and began typing out his day. He skipped over the inconsequential details and wrote about his ordinary meditation session with Sophia.